#she's a cenric apprentice

[redwayfarers]

Oria beloved for that oc name ask? 🥺🥺🥺

Oria post! yess

Since she's a beeb I ramble about less, here's a picrew of her to illustrate! Picrew credit

01. Full name: Honoria Ionneon

02. Best friend: Thesor Sereno (also my OC. They're like MC and Aeran but with no secrets)

03. Sexuality: lesbian

04. Favorite color: purple :>

05. Relationship status: dating @just-eyris-thingsgs' Rienna Cenric!

06. Ideal mate: someone steadfast, respectful, willing be in it for the long run. In an ideal situation, they'd also be long-lived, like her.

07. Turn-ons: pretty women??? i'm not entirely clear on that

08. Favorite food: Bread her family used to make from locally sourced grains in her native Sathir.

09. Crushes: I'll have to say Rienna again but she's had a lot of crushes over the course of her life (she's 100+ years old)

10. Favorite music: TBA

11. Biggest fear: Losing the Spire!! It's come true

12. Biggest fantasy: Having a life where she isn't an outcast/a danger to her family's reputation and she had that in the Spire for a while. But uh. Things happened.

13. Bad habits:

14. Biggest regret: Choosing to escape from the Spire when her friends fell (survivor's guilt is a bitch)

15. Best kept secrets: TBA

16. Last thought: probably something about how soft Rienna's hair is or how there are survivors out there.

17. Worst romantic experience: a Guild mage she had a fling with back when she was a wee bb Wayfarer. She's cautious around dating Guild mages after that

18. Biggest insecurity: TBA

19. Weapon of choice: Sword (Porphyrogenita)

20. Role Model: Her father Justinian

[maybankwrites]

Killing Time (Sihtric x Edyt AU)

iv. Oral

Sihtric and Edyt find themselves spending months on end in a small room together when Guthred sells their Lord Uhtred. Bored and alone they find various ways to kill their time.

AO3

Word Count: 1643

Warning: Smut

Part Four of Killing Time. Sihtric notices that as Yule draws nearer Edyt becomes increasingly more tense. Determined to help her relax and take her mind off the people she misses in Wessex, he introduces her to a side of sexual pleasure she had yet to explore.

Edyt pulled her cloak tight around her as she stood in the open window watching as more snow fell onto the land below. She didn’t move when the door behind her opened, having seen Sihtric pass over the ridge and approach the inn. His footsteps stop just behind her, his arms encircling her waist. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she relaxed back into his embrace. 

“Right now,” she told him, still staring off into the cold distance, “priests and lords preparing are flock to Winchester.”

“To celebrate Yule?” he asked. Edyt shook her head, finally looking up at him.

“Christmas,” she responded, a fond smile finding its way to her lips, “Uhtred says your Yuletide celebrations are far more enjoyable, but I find there is nothing like spending the Christmas season with those you love.”

“You miss them, don’t you?” he asked, “The people you left behind in Wessex.” 

“Yes,” Edyt nodded, leaning her head back against his chest, “when Uhtred talked of heading north, I didn’t think it’d be for so long. Just like every year, in three days time, Lord Odda’s party shall arrive in Winchester. We always arrived before the other lords. When Aethelred was king, it often felt as if we spent more time in Winchester than we did in Devonshire.”

“Did you like Winchester?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I do,” she sighed, “Father used to complain about all the prayers. He said that prayers killed his knees, and Cenric always said it was because he was old. Every year, Eanflaed would go to the market with Father and help him pick out fabric for my new dress and Cenric’s wife would make it in the spring.”

Sihtric smiled down at her, letting her reminisce about the people she left behind.

“Aelswith would take a break from eating as her husband must and she and I would enjoy a small feast after prayers one day,” she continued, “Alfred didn’t mind, he’s normally off humping a servant girl anyways.”

“That sounds nice,” Sihtric commented. Edyt raised an eyebrow and cast him a teasing grin.

“A small feast or humping a servant girl?” she asked playfully. Sihtric laughed and shrugged.

“Both actually,” he answered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “There’s this one servant girl. I heard she worked for Lady Aelswith. Maybe she’ll be there when I travel south.”

“Oh?” she asked, playing along as she turned to face him.“I used to work for Aelswith. Tell me about your girl and maybe I can tell you if she’ll be there.”

“Let’s see, she had blonde hair and was about yay height,” he said, raising his hand level to the top of her head, before his eyes flicked downwards and he offered her a playful grin, “Great tits too.”

Edyt snorted a laugh before dissolving into giggles, hands coming up to cover her face. Sihtric grinned widely at her, sharing in her mirth. Regaining her composure, she looked up at him, attempting to put on a serious face.

“Blonde, short, great tits,” she listed, pretending to ponder.

“Extremely short,” Sihtric cut in, causing Edyt to scoff in offense, “Ridiculously tiny.”

“Barely below average,” Edyt corrected, shoving him lightly as he laughed at her. He caught her hands, leaning down to peck the tip of her nose. Edyt stuck her tongue out at him, before returning to their game. “Hmmm… I might need a little more information.”

“Well, I hear she was a dreadful healer’s apprentice, but a very skilled swordswoman,” he told her. He brought his hands to chest, squeezing her breasts lightly, as he backed her towards the bed. “Did I mention the great tits?”

“You did,” she laughed, pulling him down to kiss her. Sihtric broke the kiss, rubbing his nose playfully against her own. 

“Another thing about my girl,” he said, and Edyt hummed at the phrase, her face flushing, “is she needs some help relaxing.”

“Oh?” she asked, excitement pooling in her stomach as his fingers inched up her dress. “Are you going to help her with that?”

“I am,” he confirmed, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. His hands continued their task of removing her dress, parting the kiss briefly so he could toss it to the floor. Edyt’s hands tugged at his tunic. He pulled the unnecessary fabric over his head before wrapping her in his arms and jumping onto the bed. Edyt laughed as her back hit the furs. 

“Sihtric!” she laughed, attempting to scold him as the bed creaked beneath them. “The innkeeper is going to complain!” 

“You worry too much,” he told her, leaning in to kiss her, interlacing their fingers above her head. Edyt smiled into the kiss, her free hand cupping his face. Sihtric broke away, pressing kisses along her neck. “Just relax. ”

“I am relaxed,” she protested, gasping as he sucked a mark onto the base of her neck. He chuckled, continuing south with open mouth kisses along the tops of her breasts. 

“Not yet,” he commented, “but you will be.”

“Oh?” she laughed, “someone’s confident.”

Sihtric didn’t answer, eyes flicking up to hers briefly as he smirked against her skin. He moved lower, kissing down between breasts. He wrapped his lips around her nipple, tugging it into his mouth as she gasped. Bringing a hand to the other breast, he tweaked the nipple, eliciting a whimper from her. He flicked his tongue across the sensitive bud. Edyt’s hands gripped at his shoulders. Sihtric released her breast from his mouth, scattering kisses along her ribs. He nipped and sucked at the skin just below her breast, until he was satisfied a mark had been left. Her hips rocked as he trailed open mouth kisses along her stomach, blowing gently on the wet flesh. 

“What are you doing?” she asked as Sihtric yanked her down the bed, shifting to kneel beside it. He looked up at her, mouth moving along her inner thigh.

“Helping you relax,” he said, fingers teasing her entrance. “Just lay back and enjoy it.” 

“I-” Edyt began to protest, nerves fluttering in her stomach, before she stopped herself. She nodded, leaning back, fingers drumming against the furs at her sides. Sihtric paused, chuckling slightly at her still tense form. Edyt pouted at him, before laughing herself, “Hush! I am trying.”

“I know,” he said, resuming the task of littering her inner thighs with kisses. His fingers moved along her opening, spreading her for him as he shifted his focus. He swiped his tongue along her slit, grinning as she gasped at the unfamiliar feeling, hips shifting involuntarily. “Edyt, try and stay still for me.”

Edyt nodded in response, heart racing, lip pulled between her teeth as she looked down at him. Sihtric leaned back to her, moving up licking around the sensitive bud until Edyt was whimpering, desperate little pants coming from her. Finally, he centered on it, applying the lightest bit of pressure with the flat of his tongue. Edyt's hands clutched the furs as she moaned, his name falling from her lips. Slowly, he increased his pressure and pace as she rocked slightly. Her self control dwindled as he worked.

“Please,” she gasped, hands curling into his hair. He hummed in response, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through her. His fingers skimmed up her stomach, hand closing around her breast. He squeezed lightly, before focusing in on the nipple, tugging it lightly. Edyt’s back arched, breathing becoming ragged as her orgasam built. Two of the fingers teasing her entrance slipped inside, curling immediately. 

Edyt’s head fell back, the last of her self control keeping her from clasping his head between her thighs. Sihtric increased his tempo, curling his fingers as he brought her to her climax. Her walls clenched around his fingers as her legs shook. She laid, panting for a moment as she relaxed against the furs. 

“Relaxed?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his thumb as he looked up at her. Edyt smiled at him. 

“Come here,” she muttered, still a little breathless as she reached for him. She pressed her lips to his, tasting herself on his tongue. She could feel his clothed cock pressing insistently against her thigh. “You need out of those trousers.”

“I think I can manage that,” he said, sitting up on his knees to undo the lacings. Edyt looked him over, eyes trailing shamelessly down his chest. 

A cold breeze blew through the room, causing her to sit up wide eyed, arms crossing instinctually over her chest. Her face burned as she looked at the open window, suddenly very grateful that they did not face the neighboring building.

“Sihtric,” she whined, pointing at the window, before covering her face in embarrassment. Sihtric looked over and shrugged.

“What?” he asked, standing from the better and moving towards it trying to figure out what he was missing.

“It’s open,” Edyt told him, stressing the second word harshly. Seeing the confusion still on his face, she sighed, “It means everyone down below, absolutely heard me.”

“So?” he asked, grinning cheekily at her as he pressed it firmly closed.

“I-” Edyt shrugged, shaking her head, unable to find the words to explain herself. Sihtric kissed her gently, pulling off his trousers before climbing into their bed.

“Next time,” he said firmly, “I’ll make sure the window is closed, okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbled, attempting to shrug off the feeling as she leaned in to kiss him again. Sihtric tangled his hand in her hair, shifting closer. Edyt pulled him down with her as she laid back in the bed, hoping he’d distracted her from her embarrassment. Sihtric pulled back, running his eyes over her naked form. Edyt couldn’t help the excited grin that overtook her as the look on his face told her he would not disappoint. 

[sunshinemage]

Story Night

Word count: 1364 Main character(s): Oya Cenric (they/them she/her) (Wayfarer IF) CW: mentions of death

In which Oya tells a bit of her story to a new recruit.

_____

At the end of the day, when the recruits and apprentices had fulfilled their duties and found themselves with some free time, they usually gathered in the common room by the fireplace to play some games or talk the night away. Tonight was story night.

Most of the group already knew each other’s stories. However, last week the Spire became home to three new faces, and so some stories would be told again tonight.

“What about you, Oya?”

Oya was sitting on the floor, against the wall next to the fireplace. Their eyes were closed, the constant chattering gently lulling them to sleep. They weren’t expecting to be talked to tonight, especially not after Loumi’s ‘Incredible Tale Of How I Was Hired Into The Wayfarer Order’ or Aeran’s antics with the cushions. The evening always ended with the cushions. But one of the new recruits decided to keep the conversation going.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been at the Spire for some time, right? Who were you before getting here?”

“Uh…” They righted themselves. “Yeah, I’ve been here for five years, almost six.”

The recruit kept staring at them, patiently waiting for them to continue. What was her name again? Her very light Coveran accent made Oya twitch, and her piercing green eyes made them a bit uneasy.

“And I was no-one.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is, though. I was supposed to be someone, but I ended up not being anyone.”

“Everyone is someone.”

“Well, now I’m someone.”

The recruit clicked her tongue. Ellida, her name was Ellida.

“What about your family? Who are your parents?”

Oya looked around. Indeed, the cushions had ended the evening, as usual. Many were asleep in the room while the rest had gone to sleep in their quarters. Only Ellida and Oya were awake.

“Alright, alright. I come from Tol Covere. My… father is the head of a merchant House. He never cared about me and didn’t even tried to pretend he did when Cenric came to find me.”

“And your mother?”

“Never knew her.”

“Is she… ?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you know her?”

Oya’s question took Ellida aback.

“Well… no, but that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?”

“It’s fine. As I said, I never knew her.”

Both of them fell silent. The soft crackling of the fire was the only sound for a little while, and the dancing shadows cast by its light were the only movement. After a moment, Oya could feel Ellida shifting a bit, a question on her tongue.

“You want to ask more, don’t you?” They said with a smirk.

“I. Yeah, I do.”

“Is it because you’re from Covera too?”

“Mmaaaybe.” Ellida said with mischief. “So you were listening to us when we spoke about ourselves!”

Oya scratched their head.

“Ah… not entirely. You just have a little bit of an accent.”

Ellida frowned.

“Hey I’m sorry, alright? Practice got me tired today, and I was comfy by the fire.”

In response to Ellida’s pouting, Oya rolled their eyes.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

“You say you’re from Tol Covere, but you don’t have an accent.”

“I do. It’s heavier than yours, even. I just know how to hide it.”

Oya’s pronounced accent made Ellida snort.

“Okay, okay! So which House was it?”

“House Sunsea.”

“What? No way.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know,” Ellida shrugged. “That’s a pretty big House. If people got word of a magianis being in it… well, I mean, there had to be a scandal.”

“My father is pretty good at hiding things. By which I mean a lot of money can buy the silence of a lot of people.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“I only stayed in the House because it was the wish of my mother. Otherwise I think I would have been put into an orphanage or something.”

“I thought you never knew her?”

“I didn’t.”

“How… how old were you when she died?”

“She died while giving birth to me. I killed her.”

“You didn’t. How can an infant kill someone?”

Oya blinked.

“I know. But, hey, when everyone tells you this while you’re growing up, you can’t help believing it a little bit.” They shrugged. “There were complications. She was bleeding a lot and since I was what I was, she couldn’t heal fast enough. No one back there knew how to heal without magic. It was going to be her or me. She said it would have to be me. My father honored her request to keep me, but that’s all. I lived in the House, I never really was a part of it.”

“I…” Ellida’s eyes wandered around the room. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“Nothing to say, to be honest.”

“Do you know what she was like?”

“I know what she looked like because there was a big painting of her in the foyer. And sometimes I would ask people about her, yeah. She was kind and bright and fierce and brave and apparently a million other qualities. I don’t even know if any of it was true. But she was truly loved by everyone, that much I could tell.”

Oya’s shoulders sagged a bit.

“I never knew what I was supposed to feel about that. If I was supposed to feel sad or guilty, it never happened. I didn’t know that woman. She meant so much to so many people in Tol Covere and beyond, and she meant nothing to me.”

“She gave you life, that has to count for something, right?”

“Yeah, well. I never did ask.” They huffed. “But the first person to show me kindness in this world was a woman who died so I could live. Me, someone she would never meet. Maybe that’s love, but that’s also very stupid.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I feel like she would also have been the only person to love me completely. And she sacrificed herself, leaving me among people who would hate me for killing her.”

Oya crossed their arms, a flash of anger in their eyes.

“It didn’t do me any favors. Things weren’t all dark, but they certainly weren’t amazing. I am bitter and resentful and I’m not even a proper adult yet.”

They shook their head and sighed heavily.

“But then Cenric came to the House to take me to the Spire,” they said, masking their Coveran accent again. “And now things are beginning to feel pretty okay, I think.”

“Is that why you’re hiding your accent? To sever ties?”

“In a way, maybe.” Oya winked. “Also to avoid questions.”

“Well, oops.” Ellida sticked out her tongue and got up. “In any case, thank you for indulging me.”

“Next time I’ll be the one asking questions when everyone’s asleep.”

“Oh I’m counting on it! Goodnight Oya!”

“Night, Ellida.”

Oya waited a couple of minutes after Ellida’s departure from the room, then elbowed the pile of cushions next to them.

“Ow.”

“You’re done eavesdropping?”

Aeran’s head popped out of the pile of cushions, his mop of hair an impossible mess.

“How did you know I was here?”

Oya rolled their eyes at him.

“Really?”

“One day I’ll sneak up on you real good. You’ll never hear me coming.”

Oya laughed while Aeran arranged some cushions so they could both lie next to the fireplace for the rest of the night.

“Yeah right. Can’t wait to see that happen.”

“Oh it’ll happen!”

They both fell into a comfortable silence until the fire died out. Oya was well on their way to sleep when they felt a soft pat on their shoulder.

“You should keep the accent,” Aeran whispered, barely audible. But to Oya, it was as loud as thunder. “Make it yours instead of theirs.”

They turned to face their friend. With the room now plunged into darkness, they couldn’t properly see Aeran’s face, but they knew he could see theirs perfectly.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” they said with their accent. “Thanks.”

Another pat on their shoulder.

As usual, Aeran and Oya were the last to be asleep, and would be the first awake to put the room back in order the next morning.

[astraphone]

wayfarer microfic challenge, part 4

prompts taken from here! pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Symbols 

In thirty-two years, there are two symbols that Sereia has deemed worthy of carrying with her forever, inked onto her skin and heart alike. 

The first is for her order. For home, and family, and purpose. For the one place, in a world not built for her, where she could just exist. For the only people she’s ever let her guard down for. 

The second is for the sea. For the first thing she ever loved, for warm, sunny coves, for the tempestuous waters she named her sword for. For the joy of raised sails, and for the hope of safe moorings.  

The two were always meant to balance each other; home, and all that lay beyond. Lately, the former is mostly a reminder of things lost. But her order was built to wander, she reminds herself. For all that was lost, there are still things yet to be found. 

Above-average 

Sereia lands flat on her back in the training pit, scrabbling fruitlessly at Aeran as he keeps her pinned.

“I give,” she admits, and he immediately sits back, offering a hand. 

He should’ve known better. Sereia takes his hand and, while he’s off-balance, kicks as hard as she can. He goes down with a thud, and she holds on tight.

“I give, you snake,” Aeran says indignantly, and Sereia grins.

“That wasn’t quite in the spirit of the exercise,” Varyn comments from the side. “But it’s not a bad lesson. That was clever, Sereia.” 

“That was cheating,” Aeran mutters. 

“That was knowing her opponent, and taking advantage. However,” Varyn says pointedly, “We surrender in training to avoid injuring each other. Not respecting that somewhat defeats the purpose.”  

Sereia’s smile fades at the admonishment. “He’ll win every time if I fight fair. It’s not my fault he’s good at everything.” 

“That’s not—“ 

“Do you know why I have you practice against each other?” Varyn cuts in.

“Because you want a break?” Aeran offers. 

Sereia can’t tell if Varyn is suppressing a smile or an eye-roll. Possibly both. 

“Sometimes, perhaps,” she acquiesces. “But more often, so you can learn from each other. You each have areas you excel in, and room for improvement. That is not a weakness. That is the point of training.” 

Both apprentices take this in, and Sereia nods. “Again?” She stands, holding a hand out to Aeran in a peace offering. 

“Again.” Aeran yanks her back into the sand, of course. This time, they’re both laughing.

Air 

The air in the mountains is cold, and Cenric’s borrowed cloak does little to stop Sereia from shivering. But for the first time in days, she’s too distracted to care. The southern lights are dancing across the sky, and she and the boy beside her are laughing. 

The light display is maybe the most beautiful thing Sereia has ever seen, but it’s the laughter that makes her feel warm enough to forget about the frigid air. She’s never smiled so wide her face hurt before, and it’s weird, but she thinks she could get used to it.

If wherever they’re headed has more moments like these, then Sereia will go towards her new future gladly.

Fire

Vestra’s mages are overly reliant on fire, Sereia finds. 

It can’t hurt her directly, but the smoke burns in her lungs and the bright flashes of exploding light linger behind her eyes even when she tries to sleep. 

The fire is near-constant where the fighting is thickest. But the fastest route out of the country cuts through the worst of it, and if Sereia has any hope of making it home in time for the summit, she must be quick. 

It’s a hellish journey. The errant fireballs that glance harmlessly off her do not do the same for those she travels with, and she often gains and loses companions in the span of weeks or days. There’s so much death here, and it all seems so pointless. 

She’s tired of this country, and these mages, and this war. She can’t wait to be home.

Water

“Is it how you remember it?” Aeran asks as he and Sereia splash amongst the waves off Tol Covere.

It’s not, although the city itself has really changed very little. It’s Sereia who is different, shaped irreversibly by growth and love and war and grief and everything else the past twenty years have held.

But the sea, at least, is as bright and shining as it is in her memories. Diving beneath these waters was the first time she ever felt free, and she holds tightly to that joy, even after all this time.

“The ocean is,” she says with a smile. 

[imaginaryelle]

Peran Varyn, a Wafarer MC

(Melusine, he/him)

Headcanons (with minor spoilers) under the cut!

Character-defining moments:

[Asks for a 75% off discount because he has only six crowns and actually gets it] Peran: “Stealth is not my strong suit.” Aeran: “It really isn’t.” [Reads the letters]

Former street kid. Cenric saw him stomping out bits of magical fire with his bare feet and then tracked him to an abandoned warehouse covered in a snarl of security wards that were probably on some Guild apprentice’s “long term projects I hope my teacher never asks about” list.

Master Varyn picked him as a student for his “leadership potential”

He thinks she may regret that assessment

He attacked a fannaral with a dagger. Twice.

He didn’t even manage to hit anything vital! At least Aeran took out an eye!

The kind of captain who can get his squad to attack one more time and then they all die, sort of leadership potential maybe

She still offered him her name, for some reason, and he’s too desperate for belonging to refuse even though he’s not sure he deserves it.

Stupidly tall and broad shouldered and hates it

He doesn’t fit in most clothes or beds and everything is more expensive

He walks into a tailor’s and can see them calculating yardage in their heads as they greet him and he walks back out again

He’s gotten good enough at sewing to repair things but trying to piece them together in the first place inevitably ends in sleeves getting sewn wrong side out and trousers hemmed too short.

Finding well-fitted armor is even worse, and the most expensive pieces, like chest pieces and gauntlets, are always the first to get destroyed by some magical effect. All he has left in Rona is a pair of vambraces and a pair of greaves.

Tells himself he’s terrible at stealth because he’s bright blue and his eyes are glowing yellow and he can see over the crowd’s heads so he’s never going to blend in anyway, but he once watched his teacher walk into a room full of people while wearing clothes entirely composed of bright yellows and reds and no one noticed her until she tapped the host on the shoulder.

Aeran once made a point of telling him folktales about famous Melusine thieves and spies who were never caught and Peran refused to speak to him for week

Now Aeran can just hum a few bars of a song if he ever needs Peran to stop overthinking something because it always gets a reaction

Sometimes the reaction is just a glare and sometimes it’s chasing him around in circles until they end up wrestling on the floor.

Prefers cities with lots of stone architecture because then he can climb and make jumps most other people don’t expect, which can completely transform a battlefield

Rona is almost worse than an open plain for him, tactics-wise, because half the buildings are actively rotting and the other half are held in place by creeping vines so he can’t be sure anything will take his weight. And then he has a shoulder wound for most of Chapter 1, too.

Mostly uses his silver tongue to get discounts, free food, and to talk his way out of bad bets

Surprisingly good at stabbing things but consistently takes stupid risks about it

It’s not like the problem is going away if he doesn’t stab it so he might as well try, right?

De-escalation doesn’t work on monsters or once someone’s in a murderous rage, Master Varyn, he swears he’s tried it

Extremely jealous of Rhodarth’s spear; envious of pikemen the world over and only slightly bitter that there wasn’t an Alassar spear or pike available when he was training.

Used to have a staff he carried in addition to his sword but it got broken before they arrived in Rona. Of the two replacements he found, one split after a single training session, and the other was stolen during a fight where he needed the sword to combat magical protections.

Has been grabbed by the throat an unreasonable number of times.

Most people try to block or dodge that sort of thing Peran

Use your stupidly long legs to kick them, Peran

You can hold your breath for ages, Peran, stop flailing and hit them.

Things that have been yelled at him over time

Mouthy bastard

Has a decent singing voice but hates being the center of attention so he only publicly sings in groups among friends if he can at all help it. Sometimes sings to himself.

Extremely nosy, but mostly for personal knowledge rather than gossip to share.

Clingy, but gives good hugs so people put up with it

“People” is mostly Aeran, Master Varyn and Cenric

He once hugged Grandmaster Sero even though he doesn’t know them that well

It was absolutely a bet with an older apprentice

Also the only successful ambush he ever carried out against one of the Masters.

He prefaced it with an unintentionally emotional thanks-for-letting-me-stay-here and was young enough to get away with it

Actually better at diplomacy when Aeran’s not present, because he’s not weighing Aeran’s reactions against his own words.

Listen. The fear of rejection is strong, okay.

He is not taking the loss of the Spire and connections with other Wayfarers well.

He’d been holding onto hopes of staying at the Spire longer-term to train apprentices himself someday and now that’s just gone and he doesn’t even really know what happened.

Loves rescue contracts, hates assassination contracts, mostly seems to get object retrieval contracts for some reason.

Probably those folksongs again.

[redwayfarers]

in the sun and in the snow

Fandom: Wayfarer Ship: Oya Cenric/Aeran Kellis Characters: Oya Cenric (@sunshinemage), Cassander Inteus, Aeran Kellis (mentioned) Rating: Teen Words: 1187 Spoilers: None! Rory did a little piece of their Oya and my Cass for OCkiss24, and I felt inspired, so I wrote a little thing. Hope you don't mind I borrowed Oya, Rory! It's a little gift for you, after all. Because Oya deserves love, joy and happiness with the dumbass elf they fell for. Happy Valentine's Day :) read on ao3 dividers by @saradika

It’s a summer’s day in the Spire. It’s not Covera, with its warm days where the only thing one can do is sit by the beach, but it’s not freezing cold either, so the wayfarers are in the courtyard, training, conversing with one another. Laughter echoes in the distance. Artanis feels more at home than Covera, in a lot of ways. 

In all honesty, a part of Oya doubted they’d ever have it in their lifetime. Much to their surprise, they were proven wrong. 

The only thing lacking in this bustling, jovial mood of life outside the norms of the world is the fact that Aeran isn’t here. Oya misses him terribly; months pass without them seeing each other, but it does little to lessen the ache in her chest whenever she sits in her room, alone, and thinks about what it would be like if he sat there with her. It’s a soft reverie - akin to a refreshing sip of water on a hot day, or a cup of mulled wine in winter - and also one that’s expanded recently. 

Aeran’s not simply sitting with them anymore. He’s kissing them. 

The notion of it almost startles them, but they welcome it. The thoughts of him smiling against their lips make their days pass faster at times. He promised he’d be here soon; all Oya can do is wait. They might not get to kiss him when he gets here, granted. Oya thinks she might just jump out of her skin if it does happen, in some alternate reality. She just wants him around, and she wants the cozy reverie of it, and the way he hugs her. 

In his absence, though, she’ll take the wayfarers and the people the world cast aside. So she enters the courtyard, runs her fingers through her hair, and starts making her way through the crowd. She passes by Cenric and a new apprentice, a big-eyed human girl with close cropped hair. 

Cenric gives Oya a nod of greeting and a fond smile. The girl also watches Oya, seemingly fascinated by their crest, and Cenric gives her a weak hit on the shoulder. 

“It’s rude to stare,” he says gruffly. Oya laughs. 

“M sorry,” the girl whispers, embarrassed. 

Life is good at the Spire. 

When they reach the smithy, they see a familiar splash of red hair towering over everyone else. Cassander is hard to miss, especially now that he’s in in his finest, artanisian summer attire - which Oya knows is nowhere as fine as what he would’ve worn in Vodena, a lifetime ago - and his hair pulled up and braided in a style that looks messy at the first glance, but betrays a lot of time upon closer inspection. Most jarring of all, however, is the fact that he looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here, Vodena included. 

“Cassander?” Oya pipes up, and he looks up from his boots to blink at them. His hand remains at the braid on his shoulder. 

“Oya! You’re a sight for sore eyes!” He swallows and laughs nervously. “Would you mind if I.. tasked you with something?” 

“Are you alright?” Oya asks. “What happened?” 

“Nothing special, I just– I needed to have my armor fixed, and the only available blacksmith was my now ex boyfriend. So I’m–” He laughs again, this time less like he’s about to cry and more like he’s making fun of himself. “Told myself, ‘Cassander, you’re a big boy, you can do this. Just say hello, thank you and goodbye and you’re on your merry fucking way.’ But no, I had to dress up, even. I was this close to lining my eyes, too. Why look miserable when you feel miserable, right?” 

Oya sighs and steps closer, to stand by him. They understand the feeling quite well. It’s the similar sort of tension that fills them when they think of kissing Aeran, but in reverse. Where Oya has to tell themself that kissing Aeran’s good, and that their head is messing with them, Cassander looks actively ready to jump off the window in Sero’s office. 

“So you want me to pick your armor up for you?” they say, and he nods curtly. 

“If you’d be so kind, yeah,” he rasps out. “If you have places to be, I get it. I am a big boy, after all. But I chickened out at the last second. And, yeah.” He kicks the ground. “For fuck’s sake, I killed people before.” 

Oya looks at him. “It’s not a problem. I don’t have anywhere to be.” And then, they add, with a layer of cautious curiosity, “How long ago did you break up with the blacksmith?” 

“A few months, I think. Distance did its thing, but it still hurts, in a lot of ways.” Cassander shrugs. His fingers have not stopped moving over the curled ends of his hair. “How have you been?” 

It’s Oya’s turn to laugh. “Aeran should be in the Spire soon.” 

“Yeah. Are you planning any big welcome gestures? Any romantic lunches?” 

Oya looks at him, wide-eyed. They clear their throat. “Nothing of the sort!” 

He giggles. “Sad. And here I was, just about to tell you I know a place.” 

Oya looks at the ground. Romantic lunches sound nice; their sweet, unattainable reverie dances in front of them and dulls everything else. It’s a nice thought - them and Aeran, in the nooks and crannies of their family’s estate in Covera, absorbing the sun and watching the sea. Or maybe, sneaking into an old, unused room high above in one of the Spire’s towers, close for warmth as they watch the snow fall. 

And Aeran would kiss them; or they would kiss him, and it would be lovely and sweet and it makes something in them tighten and release in uneven rhythm. 

“I’m just fucking with you,” Cassander says, by way of apology that doesn’t sound that apologetic. “I just think you two would enjoy a romantic little dinner for two.” He extends an arm to wrap around Oya’s shoulders, but it doesn’t quite touch them; Oya leans into it and he rubs their shoulder. Life goes on around them, life away from the norms of good and high society, life where people like them can talk about having relationships at all, let alone failed ones. 

Then she hears the gates open and the familiar sound of Aeran’s voice, tired from the road, and her heart leaps. She turns back to look at the gates and Cassander turns with her, nodding with realization. 

“Go get your romantic dinner, or whatever you guys want to do,” he tells her. “I will be a big boy, as I said, and get the damn armor.” 

“Are you certain–” 

“Yes! Now go. One chance, Oya, one chance, go, go, go!” 

Oya breathes and tries their best not to run to Aeran. When he sees them, he beams and it’s as if they’re in Covera on a warm, summer’s day, or in an unused room in an abandoned Spire tower watching the snow fall. 

He’s home. 

And in a way, Oya is too. 

[redwayfarers]

🖊 ahh I don't know who so I'm gonna give two categories: Wayfarer of your choice OR new OC you are excited to talk about!

ty for dropping by! <3 since i've been missing my wayfarer kids something fierce, so have some wayfarer kiddos! here's some honoria for you :)

picrew link

🖊 she's from sathir but her father, justinian, isn't. he's an ayadan melusine warrior that did helped the court of sarin, and over time, after he and his first wife parted ways, he married a minor-ish elven noblewoman of sarin's court named galla and they had honoria and her two siblings :)

honoria is also very much attached to her father, who didn't shun her for being a magianis, who loved and defended her, as did her mother. the decision to join the wayfarers was honoria's own, and even though she grew close to cenric and views him as a second father after being his apprentice, she never really shook off her father's name, ionneon, in honor of him.

when the spire fell (since in my extended verse honoria and thesor sereno are older wayfarers who are spire survivors) she took a very injured thesor to her father in sathir to recover, where they spent some time living with the clan. i have an old fic about it, if anyone's curious to read! i love oria and thesor's relationship, they're platonic life partners and they're so funny together. i care them lots!!!

[idrellegames]

hello!! your game is absolutely wonderful and i'm so excited to see where it goes. i've gotten so attached to the wayfarer masters and i'm curious, how common is it for apprentices to take their mentors' surnames? is the mc an outlier if they take their mentor's name or are there a lot of them out there?

Common enough that it's not unusual, but not so common that everyone does it. It depends on the apprentice (whether they had a surname to begin with, whether they want to throw their old identity away entirely, etc.) and it depends on the mentor (their personality, how old they are, how many apprentices they've had).

If we're talking just about Cenric, Varyn, and Sero:

Cenric has had the most apprentices over the longest period of time. He's had around 50 apprentices or so during his life. Maybe a third of those have taken his surname.

Varyn came to the Order as an adult and hasn't been around nearly as long as Cenric. She taught maybe a dozen or so apprentices before the MC, including Darius Avennor (the Wayfarer who wielded Aeran's bow before him). Only two of her former apprentices have taken her surname.

Sero has only trained three apprentices (including the MC). The MC is the only one who has taken their surname.

[idrellegames]

Can I just say thank you so much for Wayfarer, I've never felt such freedom to BE my character in a game like this without having a bad reputation or being perceived as bad because I wanted my character to have some emotion and depth! Also, do the suggested names change for what origin we pick to reflect naming conventions, or am I misreading? Also also, if we get Varyn as a mentor, would she send us off for a day or so with another mentor for some peace now and again?

Each origin has a different list of name suggestions! This is to help the player get an idea of what names from that region may sound like, should they choose to create their own and want to keep it canonical.

There were a few times during the MC's training when Varyn had to leave the Spire to attend to something on her own (Darius Avennor's trial in Erenvor was one of these times; see the codex entry on the Marcian Conspiracy). But outside of those moments, if she needed to focus on one apprentice in a one-on-one session, she would assign the other reading or another assignment. Cenric and Sero were extremely busy with their own duties; Varyn wouldn't hand off responsibility of her students to them.

[idrellegames]

Apparently I'm a simp for the Wayfarer Order (kudos to you for getting me so invested in them JUST from the prologue!!) so if it's not too spoilery, what's Aeran's + the 3 Masters' favorite things (like a room/feature/memory/etc) about the Spire? You know, like. From Before 🙃

Wayfarer Order, my beloved. 😔

Ahhh, the Before Times. Hmm... I might not be able to do three for each (gotta keep some mystery 😉), but here's a few:

Aeran

That time he and the MC went exploring and fell through the floor in the basement, uncovering a bunch of unexplored levels and Cenric was so happy, he cried.

Cenric

His office, which has meticulous records and huge book collection.

He has a collection of paintings that were done by Wayfarer apprentices when they were children. Since children come to the Spire at all ages, Cenric has raised quite a few of the younger ones himself. He keeps their artwork, even though some of the artists have long since grown up, graduated, become Wayfarers, and passed on (Cenric's over 200).

He has a pendant Brissa Varyn gave him back when they were together around 80-ish years ago (this wasn't too long after she joined the Order; she would have been in her late 30s at the time).

Varyn

There's a garden in an inner courtyard that she loves. She likes it best in autumn, when the air is turning cold and the autumn colours come out.

May or may not have tried to make her own wine once. Did not come out well. She thinks it's a hilarious failure. And the barrels are probably still there...

One of her apprentices gave her a phoenix-feather quill. It's her favourite and she primarily uses it for writing sharp-tongued letters to her political contacts in different Rhesainian countries (Varyn is the Order's Ambassador, it's part of her job).

Sero

There's a staircase with a rock under it that makes it wobbly. Cenric keeps removing the rock. Sero keeps putting it back. Sometimes Cenric will toss the rock out a window into the grounds and Sero will spend an entire day searching for that exact rock and put it back under the step, just to mess with him.

There's a mountain close to the Spire where Sero sends their students to do their survival gauntlet. Basically they have to make it back down the mountain in the dead of winter (Sero is watching the entire time, in case something does go wrong--they're not going to let their apprentices die).

The Wayfarer Order's methods of international communication are not great, primarily due to the fact that they don't have access to magic. But it does mean that they have some stellar messenger ravens. And Sero enjoys the ravens' company. They think they are neat. Sometimes they'll wander around the Spire with a bird on their head and spook the younger apprentices.

[idrellegames]

this game is absolutely fantastic and has completely sucked me in, oh my GOD. i immediately fell in love with varyn and am wondering if there are any tidbits/fun facts/etc you'd be willing to share about her?

Ahhh thank you so much!!! 💗💕

Fun Varyn tidbits:

She joined the Wayfarer Order much later than is typical (she was in her thirties). Before joining the Order, she had a political career in Vestra and served the royal family as a diplomat.

She was VERY good at hiding the fact that she is immune to magic and had many, many, many strategies to keep it secret

Eventually, her secret was discovered and she fled before she could be arrested for it. This led her to travelling to the Spire and joining the Wayfarer Order.

She and Cenric had an on-again, off-again relationship for about 20 years.

Because she had political contacts all around the continent, she essentially forged the role of Wayfarer Ambassador for herself. The role didn't exist in the same manner it did before she arrived; it was more of a "in name only" thing. Varyn decided that needed to change.

Her apprentices don't train at the Spire for long. She tends to take them out into world earlier than the other masters, and have them observe and take notes on any ambassadorial duties she is engaged in.

[idrellegames]

Hello hello! Hope you’re having a good day uwu I’m not sure if this will be touched on in game regardless of whether you took their name so I decided to just ask: how do Varyn, Cenric, and Sero feel about a wayfarer who sees them as family/like a parent? Even if they didn’t take their name (if that’s an option) uwu

Hello hello! 💚

You'll be able to establish what kind of relationship you have with your mentor later on (regardless of whether you adopted their last name or not). The mentors are intended to be (hopefully decent?) parental figures, so Varyn, Cenric and Sero all have a certain amount of parental affection for their apprentices to different degrees.

Cenric is the most like a dad. He's raised many Wayfarer kids and he tends to fall into the role without realizing it.

Varyn is the most "let's keep this professional". She's more detached and more like a teacher than a parent, but she still cares a lot.

Sero manifests chaotic and eccentric aunt/uncle/auncle energy. They care a lot about their apprentices, but they tend to show it in unusual and unexpected ways.

[redwayfarers]

The Spire has fallen

Fandom: Wayfarer IF Pairing: None applicable; a Cass solo Content warning: Grief

“So,” I drawl, trying not to show how long this day has been already, “I killed your little problematic creature and I’m here for my crowns.”

“Impatient much, Wayfarer?” An Aeda wipes glasses from behind the counter of the inn where she works. I don’t like the sound of her tone, all haughty, as if she’s in control here. As if she had any skills required to take down a sandwraith. The cuts from that thing itch, adding to the general discomfort, but I don’t want her to know that necessarily.

I never liked that woman anyway.

“Yeah,” I reply, schooling my tone to the best of my current ability. “I trust I don’t need to remind you what a contract is. I do the thing, you compensate me for it. So, Septienna, I want my coins.”

“You’d think you could wait for a short-lived aeda to clean the glass, given that you’re an elf,” Septienna laughs sardonically, “but no. What a charming young man you are.”

“The most gallant of gentlemen,” I say, slumping back on the chair. I don’t like Septienna, I don’t like that I could’ve been a gentleman in another life, I don’t like the beating sun, I don’t like the fatigue that’s wringing me in all possible directions, I don’t like the dull ache that’s made a home in my chest and I just want to curl somewhere in the corner and possibly sleep the next century away as the world drifts by me.

Almost two centuries of an existence with the fact I’m alone all over again doesn’t sound very pleasant. Sometimes, I wish I was a “short-lived aeda,” as she put it. Sometimes, I wish the Vestran Civil War had claimed me so I don’t have to live with the knowledge I’m, for the second time in my short life, all alone.

The Spire fell. The Spire fell and with it, the Wayfarer Order. The Spire fell and dragged my life into whatever it was set to become before Cenric took me off the hands of my arrogant, grateful parents.

The thud of coins hitting the counter shakes me back to reality. Septienna looks at me through lidded eyes, brimming in amusement, a sunbeam shining bright on her linear, emerald crest.

“Six crowns, just as we agreed,” she says. “Unless you’d rather I take one and you take a nice nap here on my counter?”

“Go fuck yourself, Septienna,” I snarl. “You haven’t spent all day chasing a sandwraith on no sleep whatsoever.” She laughs, the evil, horrible woman, and with her, the nearest patron. I take five crowns and drag them close to the edge, so they fall nearly into the fold of my palm. My fingers drag across the surface of the sixth. “And besides, if I wanted to part with my hard earned crowns so soon, you’d have to offer me a bed. Not willing to do that? Thought so.”

I take the remaining coin and put it in the bag with the others. My legs protest a little as I force them up and get to my feet. Soon, legs. Soon we’ll be home and we will take a little nap in as much comfort as we can afford which admittedly isn’t a lot but it’s better than nothing. At least I didn’t have to see my friends cut down.

As if that’s any better. I try to think of what Sero would’ve advised, but the memory of them makes something already broken in me break even more and it takes me a moment to look at the people around me again.

Septienna’s eyes bore into my back as I leave and silently close the door behind me. Heat hits me in a powerful wave that reminds me harshly that my hair’s sticking to my skin. My hair’s always been a point of pride, but it doesn’t mean it’s always convenient. Then again, if I shaved it down, would I be less of the Red Wayfarer? Sero always told me to cut down. I always refused.

I wipe a stray tear from my eye. There will be time for crying later.

I just miss them so much. I just want to go to the Spire and laugh with friends. I just want to go home. I want to sort the mismatched socks they mention in their letter. I just want to kiss someone and not have them recoil moments later. I want to watch new apprentices with Aeran and comment on their form like we’re two courtiers at an Arathian gala.

I just want my life back.

I close my eyes firmly shut to stave off tears. The day’s been long and arduous and hot; of course I’m feeling like this. One discomfort usually brings out another, more primal one. 

I take the shortcut home, angrily open the door to the shabby little apartment I spent the last three months in and just sit on the floor. My shoulders shake as grief gangs up on me and I hiccup my sobs away. Shadowfall clings against the wooden floor every so often with the trembling of my body and my desperate hands take out the sword from my belt and I watch helplessly as my tears wet the scabbard in my hands.

The Spire has fallen.