#severine writing

[snakemoltsiren]

Has your character ever undertaken a morally questionable act they knew was wrong but would contribute to a greater good? How did they wrestle with that? How do they feel about it now?

Severine was - and to no small extent still is - a professional con artist. She has done it for quite a while at this point, even if she doesn't exactly need to to get by. She only grifted from those who could afford it - no small number of Ul'dah well off fell victim to her at some point. For a little while she did it for her own good alone. To get by. To make some money. Somewhere along the way it became far more common for her to steal for the betterment of others rather than herself. As she became more confident in both the local politics and in her own skills, she had unspoken arrangements with numerous groups of refugees. The majority of the money she got from the Ul'dah elite went to job training and placement, provisions and shelter for dozens if not hundreds of people. At some point along the way she earned a moniker - Saint Savage. A nickname that she's more than happy to be known by. Severine has done a lot of things in her past that she's not proud of, and she works every day to atone for them. But she has absolutely no regrets about anything that others might call into question morally, as long as in the end it benefited someone who needed her help. (thank you so much as always for the question SEA!!! <3)

[flos-obsessivus]

The Yandere Types:

Lilian, Prince of the Rosen Kingdom

"Having an aggrandized opinion of their love interest, these yandere characters see themselves as insignificant compared to their love interest."

--Worshipper type, The dere types wiki

The sweet prince loves real and true, willing to give everything he has in order to get his true loves affection. Lilian only sees YOU as his True Love, his gift, his one and only. To him, you are above all, everything that he is, and everything that he will be is all for you.

Ivory, Vampire King of monsters

"Believing that they are all their love interest needs, these yandere characters seek to remove other people from their love interest's life."

-- Removal type, The dere types wiki

Ivory's jealousy runs deep, often times manifesting into an ugly monster of wrath and bloodlust. No creature, human nor monster, will be able to survive when the vampire goes on a rampage. Nothing will get between him and you, and if someone does... May God show mercy on them for Ivory will not spare any.

Severin, King of the Thorne Kingdom

"Desiring their love interest to be with them literally always, these yandere characters make sure the love interest won't leave their side now or in the future. They can use promises, deals, contracts or just simply make sure the love interest is content where they are so they won't ever think about leaving."

-- Restraints type, The dere types wiki

A king who fears being abandoned. He lives his day to day being perceived as cold and cruel, but only you know the truth. He fears the day when you finally leave him, which is why he does everything in his power to keep you by his side, be it as his retainer or his servant, there is not a day where he will seek you out in the guise of him needing your help. Luckily, your loyalty to him seems to suppress the worse of his yandere tendencies, so please... don't ever think of leaving him.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Worksheets: Magic & Rituals

MAGIC

The People

What are people called who practice it?

Is everyone born with it?

Through ritual or training?

Is it considered "normal"?

Is everyone born with an equal share of it?

How long does it take to acquire?

Is there a magical elite?

Does it manifest from birth?

Why do people wish to acquire it?

Does it change in any way depending on…

Age?

Race?

Or gender?

Mechanics

How is it summoned?

Does it require additional resources?

Are there limits to its use?

Why is it necessary to the world?

What is its source?

What are the consequences of using it?

Is there a limited amount of it in the world?

Are there dangers to using it?

Does it change according to location?

What is it called?

What does it make easier?

What does it make more difficult?

The World

Has it always been in the world?

What events led to its discovery?

What lore has grown up around its use?

Why is it considered magical?

Is it "good" or "evil" or both?

Are there institutions that regulate its use?

What objects or symbols are associated with it?

Does it have a spiritual aspect?

How does it shift the balance of power?

How does it influence politics?

How does it influence human relationships?

How does it influence the environment?

RITES & RITUALS

Rite—a ceremonial act or action Ritual—the established form for a ceremony

Name of rite or ritual:

What transition does this rite or ritual mark?

Is it difficult or painful?

Who undergoes the transformation?

Is the rite or ritual mandatory?

What is the nature of this rite or ritual?

Is it public or private?

Is it dangerous?

Does it involve a sacrifice?

Is there a prize?

What happens if it succeeds?

What happens if it fails?

Who officiates?

Where does it take place?

How long does it last?

Is there a formal ceremony?

Does it change the individual's status in society?

Is it possible to distinguish those who have passed?

Source ⚜ More: On Fantasy Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[amamiishu]

???? ???_

-2 pm, at the park-

You could hear the sound of heavy rain outside from the public restroom. Nobody's here to take a shelter from this rain except you, which makes you let out a long sigh before cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella.

You've been waiting for this rain to stop for a while in the same place. You mutter to yourself if you should just run through this heavy rain or stay here for a while, but the loud sound of thunder distracted you from your thoughts.

Oh well, that's definitely a sign for you to stay here for a bit longer +stress

You curse to yourself as you finally decided to walk around inside the public restroom. Trying to find something to do even though you're 99% sure that there's no way you'll gonna find something.

When you stop in front of the sinks to wash your face, your eyes caught something on the floor that looks like an id card. Curious, you crouch down to grab it and examine the back of the card before flip it around.

Your eyes squint after finished reading the card information. You read the owner's name and examine his face again to make sure about something

Heinrich, that surname somehow sounds familiar. But where did you hear it? Someone at the school? Orphanage, maybe?

As you stand up, your eyes once again inspect the owner's face on the Id card. Focusing on his eyes mostly because you're starting to remember something.

That tired and soulless looking eyes, you swear you've seen it somewhere multiple times. But who is it?

Minutes later, your mind finally stop at this one specific name. Could it be Dieter?

You remember a bit his surname does rhymes something like Heinrich. Is this Severin guy really is Dieter's relative?

You decided that you'll ask that scary looking dude about this. After putting the id card in your pocket, you walk towards the public restroom entrance, about to leave this place, before a loud thunder strikes down the fountain in front of the restroom and making you jumped back inside.

Right.. you completely forgot about the main reason why you're here in the first place ++stress

AWAWAWAWAAAAAA first writing I did here ffaawwkk I hope it all make any sense because i rawdogged this shit at 1 am + no beta reader 💔💔💔

[avalost]

(male RT/sub!Marazhai. 500 words. Angst, passing mention of fire play)

Severin was not worried when Marazhai descended to the planet.

The strength of his grip on the railing as he watched the shuttle undock from the voidship, his knuckles turning white - that was immaterial. The prints of soot he left behind when he let go - just as insignificant.

Of course Marazhai could handle himself. Only the strongest survived Commorragh. He had a dozen titles - Dracon of the Reaving Tempest, Slayer of the... the what? He had listed them all for Severin once. Severin had not listened.

He would make Marazhai list them again, when the Drukhari returned. He would memorize them. He would repeat them like a litany when Marazhai was away, a reminder of all he had gone through and returned from -

If I ever allow this again, he lied to himself.

Severin paced the bridge, leaving black handprints wherever he went. He descended to his quarters and dug through his drawers until he found his damnable gloves, pulling them on even though he would rather flay the skin from his hands than encase them in the hated things. He sat at his desk and tried to distract himself with duty, but his hands felt like they were on the verge of igniting inside their leather trappings. He peeled the gloves off in a rage and flung them to the floor in a cloud of fuligin.

Void take this all! Where others' palms grew slick with sweat, his became black with soot. When he was stressed, when his emotions ran high - coal betrayed him, leaving a trail of his unraveling for all to see. He had never asked for this. Not this soot; not this fire. What had it ever given him, except a noose around his neck, a yoke for the Emperor and His lackeys to pull at their whim?

Eventually, he surrendered himself to his bath. At least there, he could submerge his restless hands and ignore the dark cloud that grew around him. He called the Warp and heated the water until it scalded his skin. It wasn't enough. After all, what was hot water, compared to the bite of too-sharp teeth? What was the hiss of steam, compared to the hiss of pleasure that Marazhai exhaled as Severin brought him to the peak of anguish? Days ago, Severin had called his fire to paint shapes of smoke and singed flesh upon Marazhai's quivering body. Marazhai had looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, brow furrowed with longing, voice languid as he asked for more. What could Severin do but oblige? He burned his own fingertips with each touch. He did not care. He knew Marazhai drank his pain, and was glad to give it.

That was the only time anyone had ever loved his fire.

Perhaps that was why it had been given to him.

Perhaps that was what he was meant for.

[whumpr]

monster, mistake

Drip, drip, drip. The rain trickled down onto the stone floor. Bright moonlight filtered in through the temple’s ruined roof, reflecting blue onto the wet tiles and tall looming walls. Severin awoke lying on his side, notably comfortable despite it all. He couldn’t remember what had landed him here, huddled in the shadows amidst the rubble, but he knew immediately that he’d made a mistake somewhere. Something was… strange. The way the shadows enveloped him, the towering ruins around him, it was–comforting. It felt safe. And the thought of stepping out into the moonlight only filled him with instinctive dread. Shattered stained glass painted the floor, reflecting an image he didn’t recognize in the darkness. He stood, and the motion was smooth like the darkness around him. Had the ruins been so small before? Had the pews been so far beneath him? The center of the chapel welcomed him, even despite the moonlight that repelled him so fully. It ached to step into the light. Looking to the moon felt like staring into the sun. He brought his arm up to shield his eyes and was greeted with the sight of something thick and shapeless where his arm should be. What should have been skin moved like liquid, and swallowed the light that touched it. He sucked in a shuddering breath and stepped back, out of the light and into the safety of darkness. Beneath him, the gathering rain reflected the temple above. Stepping forward felt more like sliding on ice as he moved, staring into the puddle at his feet. Hollow, white eyes that shone like the moon stared back at him–set into a face that lacked any distinctive features. He blended in with the shadows behind him, and as he brought his hand up to touch his skin, the reflection followed suit. “What…” He whispered softly. What had the temple made him?

[bitesizedpoetry]

Sylvia Plath, aged 18

[wanderingmind867]

I like Green Lantern and Flash and Hawkman and all these DC characters, but the writing style begins to drag on me. No disrespect to John Broome or Gardner Fox, but they're not like Stan Lee (for better or worse). Stan Lee writes with a bombastic nature, an exaggerated sense of comedy seamlessly blending with his narration and dialogue in his stories. Gardner Fox and John Broome wrote a lot more basically, with great ideas (but less of a cultivated image surrounding themselves).

I think I would recognize Stan Lee and his marvel bullpen. To use all his nicknames: Smiling Stan (The Man) Lee, Rascally Roy (The Boy) Thomas, Jolly Jack (King) Kirby, Genial Gene (The Dean) Colan, Marie (The She) Severin, Happy Herby Trimpe, Marvelous Marv Wolfman, etc. DC would never do silly things like this. I don't think half their writers had nicknames. But Stan Lee gave out enough nicknames that I found a whole wikipedia page about it. He kept it fun in the 60s.

Apparently Jim Shooter may have cut back on the nicknaming, although I know Roy Thomas and Marv Wolfman kept it going while they were editors. And it was a cool, unique thing that made Marvel great. I've been trying to read DC comics lately, but I still miss Stan Lee's bombastic nature. And the fact that marvel usually always credited people. DC never really credited people in the 60s. And that's unfair. So DC definitely had problems. And they needed to work on them.

[handma1denofvenus]

Severin x Wanda

Venus in Furs

(Basically imagine severin fucking sobbing as he scribbles this into his diary with doodled broken hearts all in the margins and the paper stained with his tears) (while he tries not to listen to the Greek rocking Wanda's world in the next room over. That is it. That is the context.....)

_________________________________________

My neck stained with fingerprint bruises

Maroon, lilac, and chartreuses

What an ass I am to thank thee

Who holds the nooses

My statue of Venus

My garden of Eden

Strike me down

Or cast me out

And still you'll find me

Kneeling at your feet

(Ps plz stop fucking the Greek ;O)

_______________________________________

ORIGINAL CONTENT!!! NO OTHER SIMP COULD HAVE WRITTEN THIS BUT I!!!

[ustalav]

character voice tag

tagged by @foxboyclit and my dialogue is "i am not what you wanted"

i got a teensy bit wordy w the action hmmm but lol still posting it, thank you for the tag!!

Rules: Rewrite a line of dialogue from the person who tagged you in the voice of your OCs! (You can include a beat of action to help establish character if you want.) Pass on the tag with a new line of dialogue.

Gideon: His voice is tight when he speaks, shaping his words carefully, not quite meeting their gaze. “We will never see eye to eye, I… I would sooner die than revoke my oath to the Chantry. You must accept this if we are to carry on. You can’t keep waiting for me to change.”

Grant: His laugh is a huff of exasperation, hand pulling through the strands of his dark, messy hair. “Maker, what do you want from me? I’m not your blasted savior, your revolutionary. I’m just trying to fucking survive.”

Cyril: There was a time the Queen looked at him with admiration, he’d even go so far as to say desire. All he sees now is hate and contempt. Cyril rises to his full height, a towering presence of horns and wings and the warped power of the Abyss. “I hope you enjoyed murdering my troops while you sent me on that wild goose chase, your Majesty. Drezen no longer requires your aid, you shall either leave of your own accord or the Balors will escort you.” His expression is schooled as coolly as hers but he can’t help the twinge of regret when met with the strength of her ire. It’s a distant thing.

Severin: “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before, Mother Dearest. I’ll never lure a man with my feminine wiles if I spend half my time gallivanting about as a man. What was it Lord Daveth said? ‘Sev’s a right lad, can drink you under the table with the best of them, but I need a wife.’” Her voice is mocking, deep and low in the best impression of the Lord they can make while slumped gracelessly on a couch, wine sloshing in their glass with each drunken gesture. Stings less like that.

i tag @lords-of-fortune and @amatres anddd @space-writes with a good ol' angsty "i'm sorry" as your dialogue prompt

[snakemoltsiren]

18. what is something they wish to try? why haven't they tried this yet?

Severine is very happy with her current relationship. It fulfills her emotionally, mentally and physically. Anything she or her partner are interested in, they can talk about and typically receive enthusiastic consent. She would be the first person to tell you how incredibly lazy she is - including in the bedroom. Not quite a pillow princess - her partner's enjoyment is incredibly important to her and she doesn't mind doing the work - but hey, if she doesn't have to? She won't. If she can turn her brain off and just go along with it? Great. However... There's a deep-buried part of her that wants her partner completely at her mercy. Following every word and demand to the letter. Just to see. She would never suggest or try to do this, however, because she doesn't trust herself. Because she knows that it's possible to achieve this. That with just the right pitch in her voice she can demand anything. And it's an aspect of her own power that scares her more than anything else. Plus honestly? Because her current relationship is so ideal, so incredibly giving and nurturing on both sides, she doesn't need to demand anything. Even if the thought is still in the back of her mind. At least a little. (thank you so much!! <3 <3)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Moon (pt. 3)

Lunicurrent - related to changes in currents that depend on the moon's phases.

Luniform - moon-shaped.

Lunula - something shaped like a crescent or half-moon; especially the pale area at the base of the fingernail.

Mooncalf - a fool, dolt, monster, or aborted fetus.

Moonglade - the bright reflection of moonlight on a body of water.

Moonraker - the top-most sails on some old sailing ships.

Novilunar - of the new moon.

Plenilunar - of the full moon.

The Moon...

Is the Earth’s only “natural” satellite.

Is moving away from the Earth.

Is 27% the size of the Earth.

Orbits the Earth every 27.32 days.

NOTES

There are 2-5 lunar eclipses yearly.

You would weigh 1/6th of your Earth weight on the Moon.

We only ever see half of the Moon at a time, even at “full moon”.

The light reflecting off the Earth and onto the Moon is called “earthshine” or “earthlight”.

In many languages, as in English, the word for “moon” is cognate with the word for “month”.

It takes the moon 29.53 days to cycle back to the same “visual” phase. This is called a “synodic month”.

A lunar calendar is a calendar based on cycles of the Moon's phases (synodic months), in contrast to solar calendars based on the solar year.

The Moon illusion is an optical illusion which causes the Moon to appear larger near the horizon than it does higher up in the sky.

Sometimes it’s possible to see the moon rabbit, or the shadowy face of the Man in the Moon created by lunar maria.

In the northern hemisphere, when the Moon is waxing, it resembles a letter “D”, and when waning a letter “C”. In the southern hemisphere this is reversed.

About 40% of the Moon is never visible from the Earth. This is referred to as the Dark Side of the Moon, even though it isn’t always dark.

Every month or so, the “old moon” sets for the last time as a sliver in the eastern sky. For about 3 days it travels invisibly alongside the sun until, magically born anew, it appears on the third day at sunset, on the western horizon. This course not only sets the moon in direct opposition to the sun, it also gives rise to various resurrection myths in which the hero spends 3 days in the underworld.

IN THE ARTS

In some myths, the lunar deity is represented as female (Greek, Chinese), while in others it is male (Mesopotamian , Germanic, Japanese).

In mythology, the moon deity is sometimes a friend, ally or consort of the sun deity, and sometimes their enemy.

In many mythical stories, a simple character mistakes the reflection of the Moon for a round cheese.

The Moon is the 18th card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot. It represents the mysterious terrain of the Shadow self, illuminated by the guiding light of the conscious.

Shakespeare calls the moon the “moist star” because it creates the tides, and also casts it as inconstant (because of its phases) and thieving (because it steals its light from the sun).

Georges Méliès shot the first science fiction film, Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) in 1902.

The Lunar Society of Birmingham, consisting of eminent 18th century intellectuals, was so named because its members met on nights with a full moon. The moonlight made their journey back home easier and safer.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was originally titled, Sonata quasi una fantasia, and only acquired its popular name after his death.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ The Moon ⚜ Word Lists

[avalost]

There's such an interesting dichotomy in how Kat and Sev view the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Kat was born to a plasma engine clan. She grew up around Tech-Priests. She knows her way around a cogitator more than the average person, partially from her family's job but partially from just being a curious kid and watching the Tech-Priests work. Her clan also had a fairly strict separation of tasks (e.g. her family dealt with the coolant specifically, so that was their area of expertise; other families dealt with other components; Tech-Priests dealt with the more complex parts of the eingine an its programming), and having that space to be an expert in one targeted thing gave her and her family self-respect and purpose. Because of this, she's also able to respect when someone knows more about something than she does. Her friendship with Pasqal is based on that respect, and she always defers to him on matters of technology, even for simple things that she can manage, specifically to show that respect.

Sev was born on a Forge world, so he also grew up around Tech-Priests. But he and his parents were ordinary forge workers, with no prospects but toil, and no opportunity to have expertise in anything. He's resentful of Tech-Priests, because to him, they're nothing but taskmasters who view the laity like himself as replaceable. He internalized that feeling of being replaceable early on in his life, and it created a deep-seated insecurity and bitterness in him that drives him to prove himself constantly. So he's learned as much as he could about the workings of technology - as much as he's been allowed to, without being introduced into the sacred secrets or being able to commune with the machine spirits in binharic. Unlike Kat, he tries to operate technology as much as possible - and if he manages to do it right and offend a Tech-Priest by the way he does it, that's the best possible outcome for him. He has an extremely contentious relationship with Pasqal, and it bothers Pasqal a lot that this man can coax the machine spirits to do anything at all.

[dragons-ire]

#15 Portentous

The rains rolled in the desert without much warning. Ominous black clouds rolling in out of a clear sky, a long shadow cast over the earth. The smell of petrichor in the air, and then the deluge.

Huhubici Jujubici sat at the front of his trade caravan, squinting over the chocobos heads as they pulled in to Camp Drybone. The rain washed the roads, threatened to hold up travel.

Wouldn’t do to get stranded out in the mud. Better to weather over here until it passed.

With luck, the local Brass Blades could be convinced not to inspect the cargo too closely.

His bodyguard stood with his arms folded while Huhubici jumped down to the ground. A wasn’t half a dozen 

“HEY! Watch it.” He yelled out, turning to see who it was

“Sorry!” A pair of young voices called back, waving as they ran past. A pair of elezen young enough to not have their height yet, a pale-haired one just a little taller than (his? her?) blue-haired and skinned comrade. They paused under an awning, still soaking wet from the rain to whisper to each other.

“...looks like the rain washed all the garbage clear out of the Shroud.” Grumbling, Huhubici turned up his collar and continued his hurried way towards the dingy inn for a little respite. The small party burst in the door, wringing water out of their clothes.

Just himself, his personal security detail. The drivers, the chocobos, the rest of the guards should be fine in the elements and in the wagons for now.

The only other inhabitants in the main room when his small party shuffled in were crowded around a corner table. They didn’t look up - a large Roegadyn man conferring with a shorter miqo’te woman. Another elezen - quite a few of them here today for such a small town - off to the side, watching the door without seeming to watch anyone coming through.

Huhubici deliberated for all of half a second before stomping over. 

“Are those your kids out there?” He demanded. The elezens gaze (how eyes that orange color could look so cool) shifted down to regard him.

“...were they causing you trouble?” They asked in return. “I’m deeply sorry if they were.”

“They need to watch where they’re going, or they’re going to seriously hurt someone.” Huhubici went on, folding his arms.

“I see. Again, I’m very sorry. I’ll be sure to have a word with them about being more careful.” The older elezen finished, then turned back to their drink and the conversation.

 If Huhubici hasn’t beent so miserably damp and tired, he might have been ready to demand more for the indignation. As it was, he just waited, seeing if there was more to that apology.

When nothing came, he made a small sound in the back of his throat, turning to the bodyguards. 

“Come on, let’s go.” And turned towards the long bar counter to head that way.

2019 Prompt: Wilt

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[the-baschet]

#23 - Suit

Continued from #18 - A Fish Out of Water

Severin looked as if he fit right in; his silken midnight tresses always seemed to frame the ghostly features of his sunken mien perfectly and his posture spoke that of a nobleman in some respect. The uniform he suggested for all of them to don may have complimented him the most though he had a more specific reason in his choice of garb in mind. A reason he only got to enjoy for a moment.

In contrast, Chance’s shoulders rounded as he lingered about the snack foods with his lofty companion, bidding the other’s demands without complaint. His darting eyes and meekness made it clear how out of his element he was while endless streams of sighs groaned in and out of him.

“Really? That’s how you two want to spend the next few... four, five bells?” A lean Midlander in their same black and ivory formalwear waltzed up to the pair of sulking Elezen with a wide grin stretching his tanned face. “There’s music, food, ladies that are looking at us.” He glanced to his left, their right, at a table of overly dressed Elezen staring at the trio, though namely, staring at Severin.

To which the man sipped from his glass, a long, nearly provocative drain, until he handed the empty cup to the Hyur. “Nicholas, you were always good at entertainment, mayhap you could keep them busy? I might have heard them whispering something about you before you arrived here, you know? About a swarthy man with scars littering his face, how courageous he might be and the sort.”

Whatever Nicholas’ reaction may have been, Severin saw none of it, already walking past him for one of the vacant balconies to spend his time. The ornate balustrade held the weight of his elbows and then some, vehemently wishing for the night to advance into the morrow though his expression remained as bleak as ever.

“Severin! Pray, don’t leave me alone like that...” Chance followed him outside, far too young and dependent to feel a sense of confidence on his lonesome.

“You did not wish to keep Nicholas and the others company?”

“Everyone else is already talking to someone, and you know how awkward I am.” Admitting such a thing aloud tinted his sallow neck and ears just a tad. “I just want this over with; they all keep staring...”

“You and me both, Chance. We must hope and wish that our dear lord keeps us lesser people in mind... Or mayhap I might end it early with a mishap.” A devilish smirk cracked his wintry disposition as he pulled a glittering ruby from the breast of his coat.

Chance hurried closer to the other, snatching Severin’s hand just to quickly yank himself back. “Stop messing around,” he whispered in great distress.

A large laugh shook Severin over the railing, turning to face Chance in his lounge with a sudden mark of enjoyment coloring his expression. “Oh, you know I would never. This is too important a time anyroad and I will not be the one to ruin it for him. Should anyone of us fall out of line, I will deal with them personally though I have confidence not all of us are witless.”

Chance merely peered over his comrade’s unusual countenance, noting the pleased curl of his lips and strange lift of his eyes. Seeing him actually not dour for once brought an easy smile to his own face. “Right, and I’ll help you with keeping everyone in line too.”

“Of course. We need only wait until Matti is freed and then the night will hurry along much faster.”

Severin peered through the doors which they came wisping a small sigh scarcely heard by Chance. Within remained just as they had left it, Nicholas seeming to truly make a fool of himself in the distance, though it was enough to wipe his face clean of whatever joy he felt a moment ago.

[houserosaire]

Prompt #9: Fair

“It bothers me, father, because it just isn’t fair.”

His father, who had been staring hollowly into the fire the way he so often did of late took a moment to look up. “A lot of things aren’t fair.” He said quietly, and Silvaineaux knew immediately that he was thinking of mother. “But what is it particularly that troubles you, little Silvaineaux?”

He scowled a bit at the nickname. He was still little at fifteen summers, however much he might have hated it. Especially when compared to his father’s towering and sturdy frame, but there was really no need for his father to rub it in so, was there? “Florent.” He said, pushing past that small irritation to address the larger one. “Why couldn’t he be a knight if he wants to? He works hard! He is so good with his spear, sometimes he even knocks me in the dirt.”

His father straightened, turning all the attention in his amber eyes on him. “Florent does work hard doesn’t he?” He conceded. “He might be a talented dragoon if…”

“If his father wasn’t a gamekeeper.” Silvaineaux finished. “But it’s not his fault who his father is and his father is a good man too, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Severin agreed. “Though I do not think his father wants to be a knight either. Does Florent?”

“He does.” Silvaineaux said. “And he practices so hard and we all let him practice and some day I will be a knight and Honore could be a knight if he wanted and he doesn’t even want to, but Florent can’t and it isn’t fair.” Silvaineaux rather expected that his father would give him the same lecture his tutor had about the importance of bloodline and the hereditary courage of the highborn.

Instead Severin simply looked at him, all of his attention fixed on him and his golden eyes as thoughtful as if Silvaineaux’s words were worth every bit of his consideration. “You’re right.” He said at last. “That isn’t very fair is it?”

“No.”

“Well,” Severin said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do about it?” Silvaineaux asked. “I can’t change who Florent’s father is and I can’t change the law…”

“I mean that if you see something that isn’t fair you should try to correct it, shouldn’t you? The world does not just fall into fairness, it is our job to try to make it fair, if we can. And as a Baron’s son and a knight you will have more power than say… Florent’s father or a stable boy to do so. So what do you think we should do to make it fair, Silvaineaux?”

“We can’t just change the law, can we?” He asked hopefully.

His father chuckled, and Silvaineaux thought it was good to hear because he had not heard his father’s laughter in a long time. “We cannot.” Severin said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “I do not have anything like that sort of power, but born nobility is not the only way for a man to earn a knighthood. He might perform some great deed of valor as a soldier. Very very long ago the first Silvaineaux earned our lands and titles thus.”

“But that seems so hard.” 

“It is.” Severin conceded. “And many that try find their way to the Fury’s halls rather than the sort of glory they would seek. But there is another way. We might sponsor him as a candidate, if you like. If you think he is good enough and would work hard enough and would like that. He would still have to earn it. But we have the power to make it a little easier. Would you like us to do that?”

Silvaineaux nodded. “I would. That seems a bit more fair.”

“Well then, I will do what I can.”

“Just because I asked?”

Severin smiled. “Just because you asked… and a bit because I have seen him in the practice yards and I think you are right.”

Silvaineaux settled down on the sofa beside his father and after a moment one strong arm settled around his shoulders and pulled him close. He said nothing for a moment just basked in that warmth as they stared into the fire together.

“I am proud of you for speaking to me about this.” His father said at last. “For noticing and seeking to right something that bothered you. You should always try to do that when you can.”

“I  will.”