#star temple gate

[lunareel]

I'm so happy I can finally share these pieces!!

I got to participate in the Mario & Luigi: Art Collab and my two characters were Shrowser and Star Temple Gate. Thank you to @theultimateultimateweapon and @erythteria for hosting and organizing all of this it was so much fun!

[shapeshiftinterest]

transcript under the read more

star temple gate: the secrets of your heart would be revealed. that odd... incident. and that other thing as well.

star temple gate: his heart is muddled with... certain questionable things.

I’m choosing to believe this scene of Luigi’s heart getting read by the gigantic homophobic star is about Bowuigi since it makes it a MILLION times funnier

LIKE COME ON THIS IS GOLD

[heavensdoorways]

Temple of Apollo, Portara, Naxos, Greece

Credit: Athan Andreas

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Martin, after the Defense of Bruma: So. What are you in the mood for now?

Avarenya, having just stumbled out of the Great Gate with the Great Sigil Stone: Alcohol. Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.

[itsonlydana]

Anything with Thranduil in it makes me happy. Something about taking Elrond's daughter after he does not accept the wooing our king proposed to him.

This Secret of Mine // Runaways | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Thranduil asks Lord Elrond for permission to court you - it doesn't end the way he thought

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/little comfort

word count: 1,9k

an: wrote this bad boy in one sitting! The muse of angst made herself comfortable on my shoulders

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The moon stood silver and high over Rivendell, yet, despite the peaceful sounds of the night, sleep would not come to you. It had avoided you for a while and even if your kind did not need as much rest as the kind of men, the days you spent wandering aimlessly through the halls were beginning to take a toll on your mind and body; a constant ache behind your temple had formed and a pull came from the beating heart behind your chest, ever tugging on you to keep on moving or it shall stretch to tightly and snap. 

So you kept on moving. 

Down the corridors, over steps and stairs, up the open towers that overlooked all those who rested soundless and in a mockery of your state, but that did not distract you much. To be truthful, you were glad no one was there to notice how you walked all of Rivendell, head lowered to watch your feet cross wet grass, rippled stone, even marmor, and woven carpets, or held high to let your eyes wander over the high walls until they inevitably fell to the council, never hidden from your view despite the many halls you passed through. 

The feeling of restlessness had taken over your body, pushing out any hints of exhaustion for what you could only describe as a potion of fear, nervousness, and a bit of hope that remained. Once again you glanced at the open council, at the silhouettes of the two elves you loved most. 

They had been arguing for most of the day and now the discussion had bled into the night, staining the otherwise clear sky with heavy frowns striking deep lines into smooth faces – lightning had no chance against the thunderous expression that slowly chipped away at whatever hope kindled in you.

Great King of the Woodland Elves Thranduil had arrived not long after sunrise, his most trusted guard Feren as well as four others riding through the gates on what could only be a mission.

You, of course, had known all along that this would happen today. As soon as Thranduil had asked for Lord Elrond, keeping his eyes away from yours to minimize the unavoidable chaos and uproar that his presence alone brought forth, you felt your father stiffen next to you for he realized the question Thranduil would call for.

Thranduil had strutted past you, his hand fleetingly brushing yours rather than his eyes though a glance or smile would have probably calmed your father more than this loving and silent gesture of affection, so loudly proclaimed in front of his – so far – unknowing court and even as you had felt Thranduil's fingers on your wrist, had heard the gasps of onlookers and saw the sharp look of, well, disappointment and fury on your fathers closed off face, a rock formed inside your throat and uneasiness came in the form of a heavy hole that ate through your stomach.

Today was the day Thranduil would ask your father to court you officially and fear grew this would be the day this sweet love of yours would end. Thranduil had courted you in secret for years now, always sending letters and whenever you met, he loved you under the stars, whispering promises of proposing even if you both knew Lord Elrond would not be amused. Not after Arwen fell in love with the ranger, devoting herself to one unable to share the long life she had yet to live and always the romantic, Arwen would one day be forced to choose between her family and her ranger. Your father feared for this day to come, already he looked at her as if he had long lost her.

He would not accept Thranduil as your husband, was a bitter realization as you hard heartily turned your back after your father inclined his head in your direction and the distance could not protect you from the pang of hurt that followed his disappointment and spread all across every limb.

The two sides of this love were tearing you apart because there was this soft warmness of Thranduil's touch, the pink hues and bright sunlight, laughter thick as honey and sweet like it, and whenever he looked at you, held you, you believed you would never feel as utterly complete and fulfilled but then he had to leave and darkness took over. This love lifted you yet it had the power to open the grounds and push you down further than you had ever fallen. 

You did not know how long you lingered around in the shadows of walls that had enclosed you your entire life but suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist and you were pulled around a corner.

"He will not allow it," Thranduil growled and confirmed what you had dreaded. His chest heaved from heavy intakes of breaths, infiltrating his voice to sound deeper: "Decades of allyship and solidarity" – he spat out the word like it was acid on his lips, tongue pressing against his clenched teeth – "all for him to stand there and dismiss me. Us" 

Thranduil's anger normally presented itself in arrogance rather than this open display of unfiltered emotions but there were moments that brought out the dragon that slumbered deep inside his ancient soul and now, fist curled into itself and his eyes hardened, you felt the tremble, the roar, the fire that could burn down all around him to ashes if he unleashed the beasts he'd sworn to banish. 

Your hand trembled as you lifted it to his chest, curling right above his racing heart and his eyes snapped to you, and for a moment you thought he had forgotten you were even there but then the corner of his curled lips dropped.

"Let me talk to him," you pleaded.

Thranduil scoffed rather dismissively, "Lord Elrond has made his point rather clear." 

Now it was you who frowned in displeasure. "He is my father! He must listen to me," you argued and Thranduil lifted your hand to kiss your knuckles gently.

"I fear it is no use," Thranduil said, fingers caressing your skin in a language he otherwise whispered into your ear, the meaning more bitter than sweet. He slowed down, deep in thought and his eyes wandered over your face. "I told him I will take my leave." 

"Leave?" You cried out and flinched as if he had hit you and somehow he had, his words strung across your soul and body not unlike a whip, leaving behind echoes of pain and a burn all over your heart. "There has to be the chance of another conversation! He surely is overwhelmed, but –" you stopped yourself only to continue lying for the hope to blossom again even if there was nothing but shade over your future, "he came around to Aragorn! You said it yourself; he knows you! The history of our people is intertwined for longer than we have been witnesses and–"

It was Thranduil who stopped your forlorn rambling with his other hand coming up to your neck, cupping it gently and pulling your face into his shoulder where your words left you in a shaky exhale, damp and into cold fabric. 

You breathed in, nose buried into his red cloak.

His scent brought little comfort in this moment but you were desperate and if you closed your eyes, the pine needles reminded you of the days you ran around the forests, and the salt of your own tears mixed into the fragrance of his musk left you to think of splashing in the sea, his hair floating in the water like reflections of the silver moon. These adventures could only happen because you had been careful to hide all affection toward the King to let your father allow you the travels in his name, to sit in meetings under the pretense of bringing messages while Thranduil's hand caressed yours under the table and he kissed you breathlessly in the shadows of his halls, your fingers digging into the walls you hoped to reign over some day. 

The decision that rested under your breastbone was easy to say out loud.

"Take me with you." You swallowed hard and shifted to look up into his shocked face. "Let us leave together and he shall realize our love needs not his approval."

"You can not leave – your life is here." Thranduil nodded at the buildings surrounding you and you followed where his chin pointed to.

The high arches always had enough room for big dreams, but now there was no space left for what you had, certainly, it would suffocate all that went further and above. Bathed in moonlight the intricate columns held up all except your crumbling composure. The connection you had once felt, the familiarity of paths you could walk in your sleep, and the marks you had carved into the many trees surrounding the place, all those tasted ashen in your dry mouth.

"My life is here!" you pressed yourself closer to Thranduil's strong chest which always proved to be a constant rock in stormy weather, "With you! You are the very air I need to breathe and a pillar that holds me up! I will perish if you leave me in this place, where my father can not accept who I love." 

He opened his mouth to say something but a breath punched the words away. You blinked fast, there was no want for tears, not when you had to tell him what you felt if it was the last thing that could convince him to abandon whatever he thought would be best for you.

"Every time you say goodbye my fëa dwindles –"

"Meleth nîn–"

"No, please let me follow where you go – I cannot withstand another separation from you or the grief will overtake me and I do not want Námo's judgment yet," mentioning the name of Mandos sent shivers across your body and you pleaded further, because now you were still alive and able to declare your love for the life you could build together, "I would trade these cliffs for the leaves of your forest, the waterfalls for the springs that nurture the roots of your kingdom!"

There was a shift in him, you felt him pulling away, and desperate you clung to him, shaking your head frantically as he inclined his head. "No," you said, "No, no–" His fingers started to slip away from your hand, taking away any stability that grounded you, leaving you to grasp at whatever you could get from him, whether it was the robes you fisted into your hands or the threat of love that bound you together, you continued to shake your head, "No, don't you dare do this to me, Thranduil. You cannot do this to me!"

Thranduil crumbled, first his eyes suddenly took you in as if he would never see you again but wanted to keep you in his memory, and then his body followed close. His forehead dropped against yours, an arm wrapped around your middle to pull you close and you gasped at the shaking of his hands. 

"Please–" you whispered.

Thranduil quickly silenced you with a kiss so full of longing and desperation that, although no sounds except whimpers swallowed by his lips left you, allowed tears to well up in your eyes, saying so much more. 

When you opened your eyes his were shining wet as well and a glistening tear rolled over his cheek until it dropped from his jaw, darkening the collar of his blood-red cloak which covered you both. "We will leave together," he finally agreed. His nose brushed yours, "I will do what I have to keep you by my side, even if thus brings forth a divide between the folk. Your love is worth more than any allyship," his lips chased after yours, lightening the fire and hope, "Let me build you a home for our dreams and will face all the consequences."

This was how it was decided. 

You packed no more than what you had on you and when Thranduil helped you in the saddle of his horse and you turned to look over his shoulder, one last look to capture Rivendell one last time, you saw the figure of your father, standing lonely in the nightly mist. You only realized that you were crying when Thranduil wrapped an arm around you to pull you into his chest and then the wind was already there to wipe the drops away to flow back into the night and water the ground of your childhood. 

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[evilminji]

You know, i just had the mental image of a sith in star wars finding a ritual or something to summon a ghost and end up summoning danny, while in space. The sith is struggling to try and convince this otherworldly being to help them do evil and their just staring out the nearest viewport in awe about the amount of new space things to discover.

How does it feel? To have such a big and wrinkly brain? So full of smartness?? :O

That? Is Brilliant~☆

It could be a Krell situation. Stress of the war got to be too much. Or a Dooku situation, discontent fed and fed until it burst. Like a silently festering wound, left unseen and untreated.

Regardless of HOW it happened?

The lil shit steals from Madame Nu. Like a CRAZY PERSON.

Rightfully terrified that she will Kick Their Ass into the stratosphere for touching HER archives, they head straight for the "Sith Stuff". What does it DO? What RESEARCH did they do? HA! You ask too much of them! There is no PLAN here!

Their brain has gone to SOUP with the Dark Side. It's all wild mood swings and impulse decisions! Research and careful precautions takes PATIENCE. Planning. The calm and rationality they just THREW OUT AN AIR LOCK.

They are high on the initial high of the Dark Side that few, if any, Dark Siders ever SURVIVE. That TEST of their character and control, as they stand in the storm they have unleashed upon themselves.

You want POWER?

Okay.

HAVE IT.

Like trying to swallow a waterfall. Drink the ocean, one cup at a time. Endless, yes, but equally so? It is BRINE. Not the life giving waters of the Light. The more you drink... the deeper your thirst. The faster you die. Can you control yourself? Suffer it? For that's all that's left... suffering. Thirst. Endless, Endless Thirst.

Water water everywhere, and it shall grind your bones to DUST when next you drink.

Welcome to the Dark Side! Was it WORTH it?

But, ah, our Fallen's brain is muddled soup. They think so. They are not themselves. May never be again. That's why it's a tragedy. Because it both IS and ISN'T their hands that takes that Sith artifact. Because who they WERE would be appalled.

They don't even know what they are grabbing, do they? No one does. Seized from the ruins of a laboratory. Long dead horrors, painted upon the walls. A Sith's obsession with the afterlife of his people. Ghosts. Beings that were, supposedly, DIFFERENT then Force Ghosts.

The notes speak of "green". A vision or experience in his youth. Brief. The world tearing open. A gate to somewhere "green". The Sith believed it was the afterlife. Felt death inside the gate. Described as "peaceful, joyful, driven, and eternal", he was ultimately unable to full articulate the full scope of what he believed he saw.

Now his last device is in the hands of a fallen jedi.

Who is going to USE it.

P A N I C

Obviously, the Temple gaurds chase the crazy mofo as hard as they can. Without a DOUBT, every master on hand and available, is roped in by Madame Nu to FOLLOW that psychopath, before he unleashs FORCE KNOWS WHAT, directly over CORUSCANT AIRSPACE!!! The SENATE. THE TEMPLE?! HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF LIVES!?

Fallen McFuckface? Clearly did not think this through (nooooo, REALLY? Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked, they tell you!), panics. Which is, unfortunately, the LAST thing they wanted them to do. FUCK™.

Masters and Knights are LITERALLY cutting through the hull, kicking down the door, they can survive limited Space exposure and honestly? We're not THAT high yet! Let's see you jump to hyperspace with HOLES in your ship! (Fucking, DONT GIVE THEM IDEAS! They're insane, remember?!) (Shit. You're right.)

When?

.......Green...~¤~

Hilariously? The Sith can plan all they want. But you can NEVER plan for stupid. Make a plan idiot proof, as they say, and the Universe will just build a better idiot. All that carefully curated misery, hatred, and suffering? That DISPAIR. The webs upon webs of Darkness carefully spread across the Senate district? Choking the Temple?

Mmmmm, tasty kindling. Good fuel! Sith Artifact LIKEY~!

It RIPS and TEARS. A screaming MAW IN THE SKY. A black hole for Dark Side energy that takes and takes and TAKES. Dropping people all across the district below. KILLING the particularly irredeemably monstrous. After all~!

The Force? Is in all things.

You DON'T have to be Force Sensitive, to Fall. Just a BASTARD. Just cruel and selfish, hateful and needlessly petty. All the things that would sour and turn a Jedi? Can sour and turn YOU too. Just slower, quiter, and with less explosions. But! It still wraps the Dark around your bones. Feeds it into your blood.

Kills you, when it all gets ripped away.

One must wonder.... how many Senators die instantly? And how many die in the days to come? Slowly, painfully, bed-bound as they reflect on who they had become? The fall out will be SPECTACULAR.

The Jedi's fault? How? How is their being stretched so thin they could not mount a proper response THEIR fault? How is YOUR corruption, THEIR fault? Please note all the individuals who were FINE! Baffled, but FINE!

But perhaps you are correct.

Perhaps, for the safety of ALL, we should MOVE our main Temple.

We've done it before. We can do it again. Or do you not want to HAVE that conversation? Hmmm? No, no, we wouldn't want to be a THREAT to you FINE people! You HONORABLE senators! Please, continue to yell and make demands! SEE HOW FAR IT GETS YOU!

Would they normally send someone more diplomatic? Yes. But STRANGELY all of THEM had weird SITH Darkness on them that got violently ripped off! They are in the halls of healing. Unconscious. Because getting Sith shit, that was hooked into your brain, violently ripped out? Not GREAT! 0 out of 10 healers recommend!

Fuuuuck you! Yes, I bite! And be warned, my Race is VENOMOUS! *aggravated Jedi Senior Padawan noises, hissing*

Danny? Got pulled out in FULL regalia. Just FULL on Ice and Stars. Full "I am the Cosmos beholding itself, I am the dead child you could not save.", beyond vanta-black armor and cape like a window to ever shifting stars, crown of aurora borealis playing off the eternal ice, all upon a youngling that seems forever floating... frozen in time. By death.

Was it sacrifice? Natural? Is it just a shape the spirit takes? IS he a youngling?

They both can and can not feel him.

Both can and can not SEE him.

He is so young....

A child king, hsmiles with such shared grief, when they look upon that too large crown, upon a head that should never have been forced to wear it. Like a child, forced to wear his father's mantle too soon. Is that what happened? Was it something worse? They can not bring themselves to ask.

Not when he is so... so DELIGHTED?

Playing with the younglings. In AWE of each and everyone of them. The things they learned each day. "Who wants to go flying?" "Try to float me!" "I believe in you." Oh, he BASKS in their Light like a desperate thing. Showers them with praise and attention, gentle corrections and undivided attention.

He is empathic. Alive and dead. Fascinated by the stars.

And of course... King™.

No, no, he's not interested in your Senate. Doesn't like um, Doesn't trust um. The vibes are RANCID. But I mean... if you REALLY need an army so bad? Since it seems you guys are pushing yourself WAY outside of your normal duties? Like, he doesn't know, uhhh farmers burning crops to prevent starvation? Something like that.

Just? Since you hate it? But are worried people will die? Or those Clone guys (Sweet! Clones! Ellie is gonna be HYPED.) Are gonna die? He could, you know... fix that for you?

JUST you.

We're gonna have to get it in writing. And they won't do anything BUT stop the robots and help people. They don't actually answer to you. Soooo.....?

.......are you offering us an army? (Yeah. An endless skeleton army. Lead by the greatest Generals to have ever died.).....(they get bored.)

And SUDDENLY? Oh look! The Galactic suffering levels? Just fucking DROPPED. All those SENTIENT Clone soldiers! Dying in vain, in agony, ALONE? Not happening! Skeletons can get blasted apart, fade, reassemble, and march RIGHT BACK OUT! This is GREAT fun!

And even better? Unlike with Pariah? THIS time they march? King PHANTOM is sending them to HELP people! Woooooo! Destroy metal crunchy things! Help clean up rubble! Build a house! Rescue trapped people from rubble! Tireless effort! Honor and service! Thanks for the FREE METAL! *rips apart your robots*

There are no anti-ecto technologies here! The BEST they have is Force users! Which? Ha ha ha! GOOD LUCK. That's what? One? TWO? Of you?? To HOW MANY of us??? *cackles in bone army*

And! If they happen upon OTHER things they don't like? Whoop! Should'a thought of that! Before being a DICK! King Phantom says slavery is ILLEGAL. And we, the FORMER slave army of King Pariah, have Millennium Long ISSUES with that! (Easy to remove that chip, when you can reach THROUGH a person. Here you Slaver FUCK. YOU have it! In fact! Have ALL of them. From each and every slave.)

Anikin LOVES his new Bone friends. They are WONDERFUL. Him n them? Bonded. He's made them all speech boards. They're plotting the gruesome end of the Hutt cartel together. He's showing them the holo of his wedding. They're making Super Advanced Chip scan-.....

W....Why is his scanner going off? There should be nothing near by for it to recognize. The only thing HERE is him, his Bone Buddies, and Rex for supervision.... *mounting horror as he slowly waves the device around* *beep*

R-Rex?

...

......

The Clones? De-chipped in like... two days. There are too many skeletons to NOT have them be able to just? *reach in, feel for the Non-Clone bit, grab it, pull out* didn't even need surgery! But boy, oh, boy! Is Anikin upset. That sure is a Slave chip! Hey, Kamino! Have a Chosen One and his Bones Bros! Some Clones in orbit with Real Big Guns.

And Palatine? Is? PISSED.

His whole ass Empire is dissolving in his hands. The Sith Master Plan! Going up in smoke! Walls are closing in! All because of ONE(1) glowing BRAT.

Wanna bet he goes after him... with LIGHTNING? In human form, of course. Danny. Who DIED to electricity. Who has, throughout ALL of this? Been chilling in the Jedi temple, finally... FINALLY! Unwinding. Putting down the stress on his shoulders. Healing from his childhood. Cuddling cute babies and laying on the grass to nap, listen to the waterfall. Be at PEACE, surrounded by the Light of the Jedi.

Danny, who has been making friends. Enjoying the archives. For once in his stressful, STRESSFUL life? Letting OTHER PEOPLE deal with it. Playing with alien puppies and weird not-cats. Trying new foods! Seeing about adopting some droids that Tucker might get on with. Sorry "buying" some droids. (As though those Restraining Bolts aren't coming off the SECOND they droids are in his hands.)

It's been cool. Relaxing. Great for his mental health.

They have folks LITERALLY called Mind Healers here! Jazz would love it!

So obviously Sith face ruins it. Hurts his friends and blasts him with LIGHTNING. The kids are crying and terrified. This was supposed to be some sort of "learn about how the Republic works" day trip to the Senate! He was helping chaperone. They are being so, SO brave. Staying together. Trying to get their teacher out of harms ways.

He? Is? PISSED.

How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU?! A fight between adults? Not his Reality, not his business. Clockwork drilled that into his head. He CAN'T keep the Multiverse together. Fight every fight for everyone, save everything. People have free will. Have to decide for THEMSELVES. Choose to do the right thing.

It doesn't mean SHIT if they don't save themselves. Wont last, in the end, because they won't have LEARNED a damn thing. He GETS that! But KIDS?! Ooooh ho ho! He DRAWS THE LINE AT KIDS! At shocking the SHIT out of him with LIGHTNING!

You want to poke the sleeping titan 'til it wakes up?

Well congrats!

YOU HAVE HIS ATTENTION NOW!

*inhale*

*Wail*

Palpatine goes through the HOLE where about fifteen walls USED to be. Half of Coruscant physically hears it and EVERYONE with even a TOUCH of Force sensitivity FEELS it. Across the entire planet and up into orbit.

Dying screams and the crackle of electricity. Regret. Fear. The desperate need to protect, in your final moment. Pain and pressure, the cool slide of Death come to take it all away. You were just fourteen. You were just fourteen! You died screaming, you came back screaming, in the place between... will you ever stop screaming?

You are the Galaxy, the Cosmos, the INFINITE. You are just a child.

How many souls died screaming?

Can't you hear ALL OF THEM?

Pissed or not, kids come first. Fuuuuuck that guy. Danny picks up the teacher, the kids, and back to the Temple they go. Teacher survives. Kids cling. Senate gets itself into a snit over the "unprovoked attack". But the thing is? A whole CLASS of Baby Jedi say the Chancellor is the Sith Lord. Look too spooked to be lying. Their teacher, too WOUNDED for this to be a prank.

The Jedi close rank.

Palpatine tries to use the Clones.

You know... the De-chipped by their Bone Bros Clones.

Commander Fox? Gets to finally, FINALLY(!!!) live out his long time fantasy... of shooting the fucker. Slug thrower. Tragically, fails to kill him. But the attempt WAS enthusiastic! We applaud his attempt. Commander Fox gets to join Danny in the Gardens, under a Crechelings pile, staring at the stain glass ceiling and Not Thinking Or Having Responsibilities.

Huh.... kid's right. This IS nice.

Fox enjoys being a climb-able lump for the Crechelings. Welcome to the club, my dude.

The other Jedi? THEY can figure it out. The Temple is literally unassailable. If needs be, his army can PICK IT UP AND MOVE IT. Danny is Vibin. Have a fruit. You hear about Skywalker? Making pretty good ground on his whole "one man and massive bone army campaign against Slavery" thing. Missed the whole.... his buddy was an asshole reveal. Apparently reception is spotty. *shrugs*

His wife's nice though! *various married Jedi agree, Obi-Wan continues to sulk because: "REALLY?! You didn't even INVITE ME!? My own Padawan! To his WEDDING! Anikin how COULD YO-!?"*

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he���d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[peachesyeo]

Player 1117 0003 - change of route

word count - 2k pairings - gamecharacters!ateez ot8 x fem!reader (ft. txt) genre - fantasy au, dark romance au, obsessive/yandere elements.

chapter warnings - none

author's notes: i apologize for the late update, my assignments are storming towards me like a tornado and i have to focus on that first... i need comments and ideas before i lose interest in writing this story... i'm serious. and also, blog with NO INDICATION of AGE, or ANY POSTS, NO. you will NOT be added to any of the taglist. I will NOT be repeating myself. i apologize for sounding so nasty, but i'm tired of people NOT READING THE TAGLIST RULES. thank you.

thank you @sousydive for beta reading!

back to masterlist?

The royalties of Mist were leaving.

For the entire two weeks that they have been here, you refused to talk to, or even look at Kim Hongjoong. The Prince of Mist kept to his promise and kept a distance away from you, but even though he did, you could always feel his possessive gaze on you. 

“Goodbye, little Y/n.” The Queen of Mist says fondly, patting you on the head as Beomgyu, at the back, whines about not being her favourite anymore. Your parents had already bade them farewell prior to this. You said your goodbyes politely, sliding behind Yeonjun smoothly once you were done. 

You could feel Hongjoong staring at you.

You look up to the carriage. Hongjoong was indeed staring at you. As your gaze met each other’s, a smug smirk tugged at the corner of Hongjoong’s lips. His lips parted and closed, words soundlessly coming out from his mouth. You glared at him from behind Yeonjun, and he smirked again, disappearing from the carriage window. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” A warm hand was placed on your shoulder. Yeonjun looked at you in concern, and your anger dissipated. He must have felt the negativity radiating from you. You shook your head and gathered up a bright smile. “I'm fine, Brother.”

You're not. The Queen of Mist boarded the carriage, and you and your brothers stood at the gate, watching them leave. As the carriage disappeared into the distance, what Hongjoong said replayed in your mind.

“See you soon, my Star.”

You rushed to your room, dismissing all the maids and servants. You headed straight towards your desk, taking out a piece of parchment and a feathered quill. 

See you soon? You rolled your eyes. Hongjoong’s threat reminded you of something. You quickly scribbled down the names of the important characters and events of Utopia on the parchment, forming a complicated web upon the paper.

Utopia’s story starts like this: A normal girl Lee Jiwon from a common family had transmigrated into the game after a car accident. She then became the youngest daughter of a fallen noble family in the kingdom of Mist. She then attended the power discovering ceremony when she was thirteen years old, and discovered that she has the power of light and healing - a power only the saintness have. She was then taken to the Temple, where she met Jeong Yunho for the first time. He was the first love interest that the players of Utopia came across.

You drew a line from Yunho’s name to Jiwon, and then you linked both of them to the temple. While at the temple, she also met Kang Yeosang, son of the Southern Duke of Mist. The two met each other at the temple while Jiwon was tending to an injured animal she discovered in the bushes. Yeosang then slowly fell in love with her because of how gentle and kind she was, and so did Yunho. Yunho and Yeosang will then proceed to secretly vye for Jiwon’s affection, but she would be oblivious to it.

You drew a line from Yeosang to the Temple and back to Jiwon. 

After spending three years of studying in the Temple, Jiwon will enrol into the Magic Academy of Utopia, becoming a student. 

The Magic Academy is a prestigious school attended by royalties and the gifted with magic from all kingdoms. It is built on neutral land, and the closer kingdoms around it are Mist, Miroh and Klaxon It is protected by a mysterious force of power. 

In the Academy, Jiwon will then gain the attention of Hongjoong, the crown prince of Mist, because of her status. Hongjoong sent Seonghwa to approach the soon-to-be saintness on his behalf, and the attendant fell in love with her instead. Intrigued by this, Hongjoong decided to approach Jiwon himself.

You drew two more lines, linking Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Jiwon together. Your quill hovered above your name. 

You, the villainess Y/n, enters the plot here. You were invited to an event in Mist, and was soon enrolled into the academy. Choi San, the son of the war general of Mist, was picked as your guard. Through him you met Hongjoong’s younger brother, Jung Wooyoung. Through the event, you had fallen in love with Kim Hongjoong, and was jealous of Lee Jiwon. Wooyoung was the one who encouraged you to pick on Jiwon, roping in San to assist you, only to then expose you in front of everyone, resulting in your imprisonment. .

A war between Eternity and Mist began, and you watched your family die before you, before Hongjoong took your head off himself.

You shivered, goosebumps rising across your skin as you drew lines between Wooyoung, San and yourself, before linking your brothers to San.

Although you couldn’t remember what happened next, you knew that Beomgyu was the only person left alive, and was crowned the ruler of Eternity. You stared at his name, before giving out a sigh in frustration. 

Your gaze turned to the two more unlinked names: Song Mingi and Choi Jongho. 

Mingi is the childhood best friend of Yunho. He had become a love interest after Y/n’s death as he had enrolled in the academy after her event. Jongho, however, was the most mysterious character. 

You drew a line from Jongho’s name to another name: ‘Magic Tower’. 

The Magic Tower is almost the same as the Magic Academy. However, its learning environment was more harsh and dangerous. Students of the Magic Tower are free to battle and kill each other to take places.

Beomgyu attends the Magic Tower due to his powers. 

You bit your lower lip in frustration. You seemed to have found a key, but you have no idea which lock it belongs to. 

Carefully, you linked Beomgyu to the Magic Tower, and then to Jongho. 

Suddenly, a thought struck you. What if, instead of enrolling into the Magic Academy, you enrol into the Magic Tower?

Besides, you’ll enter the tower one year earlier than him, which means that you do not have to face him. You could just avoid him at the tower and stay with Beomgyu. Since most of the plot happens in the Magic Academy, you can avoid them by going to the Magic Tower. 

Right?

Seoul Hospital. 

Urgent footsteps echoed off the walls of the cold corridors of the hospital. Kang Taehyun ran as fast as his legs could carry him, apologising profusely to the people he bumped into along his way. His eyes flickered towards the signs in front of the wards, counting them. 

06…07…08!

Taehyun stopped abruptly, pushing the door of the hospital ward wide open. Inside, a blonde figure stood up at the sight of him, looking relieved. “Taehyun oppa…”

“How’s Y/n?” Taehyun rushed forwards to the unmoving girl lying on the hospital bed. “What did the doctor say?”

Hiyyih shook her head. She seemed tired, her lips dry and devoid of their usual rosy colour as she sat back down. “They say that they have no idea what happened to her… She just had a shock and slipped into a coma.” 

“So she’s okay?” Taehyun’s heart broke at the sight of his little sister on the hospital bed. Hiyyih didn’t answer that, but from her tired expression, Taehyun could only assume the best. “Where’s Kai?”

Hiyyih’s eyes glinted at the mention of her older brother. “He went to check with the doctor about Y/n. I’ve been taking care of her ever since I found her.”

“Thank you.” Taehyun said gratefully. Now that he’s looking directly at Hiyyih, he noticed that she looked terrible - there were bags under her eyes and her skin was paler than usual. She waved her hand, cracking a small smile. “Don’t, we have known each other for years now. Besides, Y/n’s my roommate.”

“Still, I’m glad you discovered her.” Taehyun insisted. 

The door opened. Kai stepped in, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Taehyun. “You’re here!” Kai exclaimed, somewhat looking like his younger sister. There were similar bags under his eyes, and Taehyun couldn’t help but feel even more moved. “Yeah, I rushed here as soon as the plane landed.”

“Since you’re here, oppa, I’ll go and take a rest first.” Hiyyih yawned, grabbing her sweater. Kai and Taehyun nodded, as the blonde girl left the ward. 

“The doctors say that Y/n’s coma was sudden with no reason.” Kai said, sitting down on the couch where his younger sister had previously rested. “There was no known cause, and Hiyyih said that Y/n doesn’t have any drinking or smoking habits. They sent her down for the CT scan and there was nothing wrong.”

“So she slipped into a coma without knowing why?” Taehyun carefully removed a strand of hair on his sister’s face. “I shouldn’t have flown to Japan…”

Kai paused. He made a face, one that he would wear when he is in a dilemma. Taehyun saw it, and he said, “Is there anything else I should know?”

Kai fiddled with his thumbs. “Well, I know it's an inappropriate time for me to say this, especially when Y/n is lying here, but the VR program for Utopia has a problem.” 

Taehyun and Kai have been best friends since young, having known each other when both of them were in diapers. Two years ago, Kai had developed an otome game - a present for his younger sister Hiyyih - and it became so popular that Kai began to gain profit from it. Taehyun was his first investor and the biggest shareholder of his little gaming company, and since then they have been working together. 

Recently, Kai had come up with the idea of inducing VR - Virtual Reality - to the game, where players of Utopia can have a more surreal gaming experience. Taehyun had flown to Japan to attend a techshow to know more about it, before he received the call about Y/n. 

“That’s not the only problem,” Kai added carefully, watching the frown deepen on Taehyun’s face. “This might sound crazy, but yesterday, when I was trying out the VR version, there was something… weird.”

“What do you mean, ‘weird’?” Taehyun repeated. Kai breathed in deeply. 

“You remember the beta version of the villainess route, the one we accidentally released but called back?” 

“Yes.” Taehyun remembered, vividly. Kai was spamming his phone with texts and panicking while the rest of his employees tried their best to salvage the situation. Luckily, only one user was able to update the game fully, and they have been trying to contact that player. “It’s about Player 1117, right? Have you found them?” 

“No.” Kai shook his head. “But, the thing is, while I was loading the game up to the beta version in the studio, there were some… really weird changes.”

Taehyun raised a brow. “What changes?”

“Remember Y/n, like, the villainess of the game?” 

Taehyun almost laughed at that. Yes, he remembered suggesting the name to Kai because he and Y/n had a little squabble, and Taehyun was feeling petty at that time. “Yeah, what about her?”

“She was originally supposed to attend the Magic Academy, right?” Kai questioned, taking out his own phone and tapping away. He then showed the screen to Taehyun. “I was just trying to load the game back, but I just kept failing. When I was going through the cutscene of Y/n’s backstory, it said that she had a big quarrel with her brother about attending the Magic Tower instead of the Magic Academy, so she ran away and left Eternity on her own.”

“How did that happen?” Taehyun grabbed Kai’s phone. On the screen, a picture of a dark haired girl disguised as a young male teenager sitting at an inn, listening to the conversations others were having. Taehyun had not remembered any of their artists showing a storyboard like that in any of their team meetings. 

“That’s not the only weird part.” Kai said, taking his phone back. “Remember the villainess was supposed to be powerless?” He paused, waiting for Taehyun to react. “Well, it is said that she developed an ability.”

“What is it?”

“She can turn into an animal at will. More precisely, she can turn into an owl.”

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[fanfoolishness]

the waves flowing, the dawn blooming

Hunter and Crosshair have a heart-to-heart, after their girl takes wing. Set directly after the epilogue, stuffed full of soft Dad Batch feels, lots of healing, and Hunter and Crosshair being close again <3. I cried all through the back half, sorry not sorry. ~1900 words.

-

Beach-crickets shivered the last of their evening songs as Hunter and Batcher wended their way back to Lower Pabu.  The house wasn’t far from the cove, and a brisk walk would have done it in ten minutes, but they took their time.  Batcher was eager to follow her favorite smells along the beach, and Hunter waited patiently for her.  His back and knees had warmed up with the walk, but there was plenty to think about.

Their kid was gone.

He didn’t know what to call this feeling in his chest: a deep and full-bodied sorrow, mingled with the fierce pride he always felt every time he looked at Omega, tangled with joy and worry and the longing for more time.  He grappled with it as they followed the familiar path back to their little home, as the stars shimmered among the slowly lightening sky.  

Batcher whuffed softly as they approached the gate.  Light from the kitchen glowed gently through the side window, and Hunter smiled, catching a faint scent of caf.  Batcher scampered up to the door, morning stiffness long forgotten, and trotted inside as it opened.  Hunter followed, slipping off his boots and heading to the kitchen.

“I wondered when you’d be back,” said Crosshair, raising his eyebrows at Hunter.  He sat at the kitchen table with a pitcher of caf and two mugs.  One steamed merrily before him, and he cradled it in his left hand to take a sip.  He never wore his prosthetic first thing in the morning.

“Well… she’s off.”  Hunter drew up a chair and sat down at the table.

A small smile creased Crosshair’s face.  “You caught her?”

“You knew?” he asked.  “Ahhh, of course you did.”  He waved an annoyed hand at his little brother.

“Said her goodbyes to Wrecker and me last night.  Swore us to secrecy.”  Crosshair shrugged, taking a sip of his caf.  “I can’t say no to her.  Never could.”

Hunter chuckled.  He remembered a time, long ago, that that hadn’t been the case; it felt like another lifetime.  “She let me catch her.  She acted like I’d found her out, but she could have hidden her tracks if she’d wanted.”  He sighed.  “I know I was hard on her.”

”You’ve always protected her.  She knows that’s all it was.  Though she did complain about it.”  Crosshair smirked, wearing the same punchable little half-grin he’d perfected in their brief cadet years.  “‘Doesn’t he know I’m not a kid anymore?’”

Hunter groaned, rubbing his face.  He reached for the pot of caf and poured himself a cup.  “I deserve that.”

”Mm-hm.”

He took a sip of caf.  It was bracing, strong, just how Crosshair always brewed it.  He savored it, letting it swirl over his tongue, so much richer and fuller than the stim drinks they used to have in their rations.  He closed his eyes, lost in thought.

The war had never ended.  It just took on a new name.

This is my fight, Hunter.

Why did she have to have one, when she’d already fought so hard?  Didn’t she deserve the peace they’d won so dearly?

”Are you all right?” Crosshair said in a quiet voice, breaking his reverie.

Hunter blinked, glancing over at his brother.  Crosshair regarded him with that cool, observant gaze, the weight of it familiar and steady.  

It was the same look he used to give him in the Marauder on missions during the Clone Wars; but the face giving it was older, softer.  Crosshair’s narrow cheeks had filled in somewhat with the years, rounding the sharp angles he’d once carried.  His gray hair had grown out and gone fully white, curling gently at his forehead and the nape of his neck, except at the old scar at his temple where it had never regrown.  His short white beard held a hint of the same curl.

You can wear it how you like, you know.  We’re defective.  Nobody cares as long as we complete the mission.

Grow it long like yours?  I don’t think so. These blasted curls are a nightmare.  Give me that trimmer, I don’t know how you stand it.

It’s the headband, obviously.

Sure it isn’t cutting off circulation to your brain?

Hunter stifled a laugh.  They’d been so young.  Things had changed so much since those days, and Crosshair was different now… yet still the same as ever.  

They all were, he supposed.

“Just feeling thoughtful,” Hunter said.  He sighed.  “I don't know where the time went.”

“We’re clones.  We never had very much of it to begin with.”  Crosshair’s eyes softened.  “Tech should have had more.”

Hunter nodded slowly.  “He should have.”

He thought of Tech’s goggles, safely stowed on Omega’s little ship, where she could see them with every pitched turn or hyperspace leap.  It was the right place for them, a testament to all he’d taught her.  His breath caught in his throat.

“She told me this was her fight,” Hunter said.  “But she shouldn’t have to have one.  Not again.”  Tantiss was a victory -- and a cruelty -- that should have been enough for one lifetime.  It tore at him, thinking of her taking on another brutal fight, one with no guarantee of victory.  They hadn’t been blind, these years on Pabu; he knew what she was up against.  He rubbed at his chest, taking a deep breath.

Crosshair poured himself another cup of caf.  “It’s not the galaxy we live in, Hunter.  It never has been.”

”When did you get so wise?”

Crosshair ducked his head in one of his rare guffaws, the laugh echoing sharply in the kitchen.  “That’s not wisdom.  That’s just living.”

”I’m not sure the two aren’t the same.”  Hunter took another drink of his caf, but it had cooled significantly.  How long had he been musing? 

“You’re worried about her.”

”And you aren’t?” Hunter asked skeptically.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow.  “Of course I am.”  He gazed down into his mug, tracing his thumb over the top of the cup.  He rubbed thoughtfully at the side of his face with his stump.  “Of course I am,” he said again.  “But — I trust her, Hunter.  If she has to do this, I have to let her.”  He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were bright.  He blinked rapidly.

Hunter reached out, taking him by the shoulder and nodding.  For a moment, it was hard for either of them to speak.

Crosshair cleared his throat, and Hunter let his hand fall.  Crosshair tilted his head towards the back door.  “Maybe you should join us.”

”You and Batcher?” Hunter asked.  He did, sometimes.  When memories of Eriadu, Kamino, Tantiss crept in; when his senses jangled, when it was hard to sleep or think.  It wasn’t often that he needed it, but it did help, he’d had to admit.  And he’d seen the changes meditation had wrought in Crosshair through the years, a calm held deep within, so different from the twisted guilt and painful memories that had once defined him.  

“An open invitation,” said Crosshair.  He swallowed, and Hunter could tell he was thinking of Omega, sunny and centered, always happy to join him when she wasn’t sleeping in or off with friends.  

”All right, then,” Hunter agreed.  “If there’s room on that patio for another old man.”

”Who are you calling old?” Crosshair snarked, getting to his feet with an audible creak.  Now it was Hunter’s turn for a sharp, short laugh.

”Both of us, brother,” Hunter said fondly.

They shuffled out to the back patio, Batcher at Crosshair’s heels.  She curled up in her comfy bed on the patio, knowing the routine.  Crosshair pulled out the stack of pillows piled against the side of the house, tossing two down.  The ground had somehow gotten a lot harder in recent years than it used to be, and the pillows helped.

They settled down beside each other, their folded knees brushing.  The dawn was rising, blushes of faint pink and orange and gold nipping at the edges of the deep inky blue.  The beach-crickets had quieted their songs, only to be replaced by the sweet tittering music of the saltbush sparrows and the sandcatchers and the buzzing starthroats.  

Hunter gazed out at the lightening sky, eyes straining as if to catch the glimmer of a ship’s lights.  But there was nothing out there besides the glow of pre-dawn, no lights making their way home.  Omega was gone, and he knew she’d had to go, knew she had to follow what was right just as she always had, and he hung his head, his breath stuttering.  

What were they going to do without her?  Her laughter echoing through the house with Wrecker’s booming joy, her tinkering with Gonky or parts from her little ship at the kitchen table so like what Tech used to do, her wicked banter and her kind understanding with Crosshair --

The soft, trusting way she’d look up at him, when she was small?

Cut had tried to warn him, once.  Tried to tell him what it meant to love a child, to give everything for them, to do what was best for them even when it was so, so hard.  Hunter had thought he’d be able to figure it out.  Turned out he’d had no idea.

He rubbed at his eyes, trying to master his breath, and looked out at the sea.  The dawn was in full bloom now, gold lining the flowers along their patio and glittering in the suncatcher standing at the east boundary.  Hunter relaxed as the light danced around him, reflecting off the mirrors twirling slowly in the morning breeze.  He remembered when Crosshair had shyly shown him what he’d made, his old mirror pucks strung together with shells and colorful stones, shimmering beacons of art instead of cold devices of war.

He glanced at Crosshair out of the corners of his eyes.  His brother sat with his eyes closed, head slightly bowed, his hand and his stump resting atop his knees.  The lines in his face had softened, his expression calm, grounded.  Peaceful.  His breath flowed in Hunter’s ears like waves on the shore, in and out, in… and out.  

Tears pricked his eyes again, and Hunter smiled, nodded, bowed his head, and let his eyes fall closed.

His brother was right.  If she has to do this, I have to let her.  

He knew it, as much as he knew anything.

She knows what to do.  Of course she did; they’d taught her, hadn’t they, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair, all of them.  She’d come through floods and fire, destruction and capture and all-out war, and she’d never stopped hoping, never given up, never stopped loving all of them through everything. Part of them would always be with her in the emblems on her jacket, in her treasured Lula-doll, in Tech’s goggles, in Hunter’s old headband.  And after that, she’d have the memories, long after they’d breathed their last and gone to join their brother.  

Tears dampened his face, but he didn’t mind: a small price to pay for a love this fierce and good.  He breathed in, and breathed out, his breath matching Crosshair’s, melding with the sounds of the waves below.

She’d be brave, just like they’d taught her, just like she’d always been.

He hoped the galaxy was ready for her.

[softagenda]

paralysis (mhin)

mhin x reader(f)

aphrodisiac au / short fic (cw: mature, slightly gory)

series: sweet poison (scenario-based collection of character imagines)

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Prologue

You’re an idiot for drinking that. An absolute idiot.

You’re spilled across the floor, head swimming, burning from the inside as though you’d swallowed a star. The velvet rug brushed soft and cloying against your prickling skin as you squirmed, your heart pounding in your ears and beating an insistent rhythm in your groin.

Cooing at you from the table, her cat’s eyes curled in satisfaction, Morgana asked, “Something the matter? You look positively feverish.” She twirled a curly black lock around her finger.

Bitch. 

Paintings of naked people - bathing in springs, dancing around a fire, having an orgy in front of a temple - swirled into one colorful blob as you turned on your side, fisting the rug. You attempted to pull yourself to where you remembered the door but stalled a couple inches in, weak as a newborn kitten and stifling a moan as your body rubbed on the carpet.

“Now, now, where’s the fire? Stay a while.” She rose from her chair and stood over you, her arms crossing under her full chest. “You’re clearly hot under the collar. The thought of you wandering the streets like this concerns me deeply.”

You glared up at her, using every ounce of willpower not to writhe on the floor like a worm on a hook. Your hand felt clumsily around your hip for the dagger. 

“I’ll take that,” she chirped, snatching the weapon from your belt and tossing it behind her. “Can’t have you nicking that lovely skin.” Her heel braced on the other side of you, straddling your back. Her hands tugged the shirt from your waist before dragging warm palms up your back, her nails scratching on the return journey.

You bit your lip to stifle a moan rocketing through your chest, as every nerve in your body vibrated with electric pleasure. Your hips pressed hard into the floor, growing ever desperate for friction even as you struggled to focus.

Morgana sunk her hand into your nape, drawing your hair back from your face. When she leaned down to brush her painted lips against your ear, goosebumps erupted down your neck. “We’ll start with the bandages, shall we?”

______ prologue end _________

“For fucks’ sake,” a voice sighed from the shadows. 

Bone popped as Morgana’s head whipped around toward the noise, then a thunk as something lodged itself in her back, accompanied by the slick, gristly sound of knife cleaving meat. A shriek erupted from her throat. 

She flung herself to the right, hand reaching over her collar. Face pale, sweat beading across her brow, Morgana turned to face the back wall. A dagger lodged in her left shoulder, the fabric around the blade soaking with blood.

A cloaked figure leaned against the window. Though most of their form was cast in darkness, the moonlight caught the edge of silver hair just beneath the hood, swaying with the night’s breeze.

You twisted on the floor, every brush of the luxurious carpet like rubbing and prickling like a cat’s tongue.

“How brazen,” Morgana attempted her usual simpering tone, though her bared teeth somewhat diminished the effect. “Entering through the window, unannounced, uninvited - like a thief.”

“You’ve got nothing I want, Mistress of the Night.” Red pupils glowed in the night. They fixed first on Morgana, then your curled form on the ground. “Seriously? You fell for that?”

Silver hair. Red pupils. A cutting tongue. 

Mhin. 

You closed your eyes. Fuck your life. 

“I spy a familiar face. You skulk around the Senobium gates, yes?” Morgana had crept closer to the wall, where a velvet tassel hung from the drapery. “Begging the mages to let you in like an injured dove.”

Mhin’s eyes narrowed. Then with a flick of their wrist, a silver flash shot through the air. 

Morgana lunged, but the braided rope fell limp into her grasp. She cursed, painted lips finally twisting into an honest snarl. Her gaze then flickered toward the door but returned to Mhin. “It would seem that I do have something you want. What are your intentions here, hunter?”

“Saving a fool from themself.” A dagger danced beneath the moonlight, twisted within Mhin’s nimble fingers. “Whether you get caught in the crossfire is up to you.”

You swallowed around a dry throat. Somehow you doubted Morgana would shrug her shoulders and drop the issue peaceably - especially with a dagger biting into one of said shoulders. Craning your neck, you looked and sure enough liquid flames began to bubble from her hand.

“As they say, in the company of fools…” she sneered, fire twisting and slithering around her skin as magic pooled in her palm. 

“Back off, witch.” Mhin glared coldly. The knife froze, the blade lifted and pointed in her direction. 

Stuck on the floor between them, you fought desperately against the oppressive lethargy in your body. The drug burned through your veins until you felt scorched from the inside out, shaky and delirious with fever. Each attempt to move felt as though you rested on the bottom of the sea, strapped by weights and slowly drowning. Your head felt pressed by cotton on all sides.

You wriggled like a worm toward the table, seeking cover. At least the effects - flushed skin, dazed eyes - could disguise your mortification. You had worked so hard to earn Mhin’s trust. To cross the cavernous distance they placed between themself and others. 

For them to see you in this state… 

“Surely you know there will be consequences to your interference tonight,” said Morgana, her attention focused on the dagger. “Let’s not pretend. This little fool must mean something to you.”

For a moment, the calm malevolence oozing from Mhin’s expression disappeared, replaced by a look of flustered surprise. “Mean something? That wimp?” They scoffed, feet shuffling in agitation. “As if. Who would - for that - “

Mhin’s mouth paused, in the middle of what would undoubtedly be an insult. Their eyes fell on you, sweeping over your shivering body, lingering on the curve of your back as you tried to push yourself onto your elbows. They stopped on your face - and the heat prickling across your skin seemed to thicken even more at the humiliating thought of what you must look like there, writhing like a worm.

To your shock, Mhin blushed. Their body twisted abruptly, face angling away as a hand shot up as though to shield them from the sight of you. “You - the fuck are you looking at like that - “

Light flared in the room, heat exploding into the air. Capitalizing on their distraction, Morgana threw a whip of molten flame across the room, arcing across the distance between them. Mhin dropped below the strike into a crouch before darting forward in a flash of black and silver. 

Morgana jumped back and sliced the whip down once more - this time, not at Mhin but at you. 

Over your shoulder, you watched the whip serpentine through the air, the spiked end twisting toward you like the mouth of a fanged snake. You tried to push yourself over even as your elbows gave out and your arms trembled. Tucking your head, you braced for the pain when a shadow fell over you.

That searing cut of pain never came. Instead, you heard a short grunt and a muffled curse.

Mhin stood between the two of you, shielding your body. Their arm was braced outward, the flaming whip caught and coiled around their leather vambrace. You’d noticed that very first day that, despite their slender frame, Mhin had the strength of a goliath. They held firm against Morgana’s near frantic yanks on the whip, not budging a single inch.

“Guards!” She shouted, abandoning dignity, a flicker of fear in her eyes as Mhin twisted their arm and started pulling her toward them, wrapping the whip around their fist. Unflinching as the fire licked flesh, burning across their skin. “Guards!”

Mhin yanked the whip hard, pulling her forward and off her feet. The dagger swung upward and cut the cord in a shower of ashen sparks, freeing their right fist, which then shot forward with the force of a battering ram into Morgana’s cheek. 

Her body propelled through the air and slammed into the door. Beads and silk curtains ripped from their rods and draped down on top of her. She writhed under the fabric, her movements panicked and clumsy, not unlike a cat trapped beneath a sheet.

“Hey. Pay attention.”

Mhin crouched at your side. One arm wrapped around your waist as the other dragged your arm over their shoulders, heaving you off the ground. You gasped as the world spun in a swirl of melted colors around you, buckling against them as your knees struggled to support your weight. 

“Fuck.” They paused, propping you against their chest, breath puffing into your ear. Shivers raced down your spine. “Can’t even stand? Could you be more of a hindrance right now?”

Shamefaced, you bit your lip and muttered, “Sorry. Thanks for coming.”

Mhin’s body stiffened. They cleared their throat. “...nevermind. Just - grab on tight.”

You stumbled together toward the back of the room. The balcony door remained open to the night, a breeze carrying the noise of the street in from below. When they reached the railing, Mhin glanced over their shoulder and gritted their teeth. “Change of plans.”

“What?” You questioned dazedly, trying to follow their gaze, when Mhin dropped lower and drew you onto their back. Hands curled around your thighs with iron strength and hoisted you up. 

“Incoming. Don’t let go.” 

Don’t let - you choked back a yelp as Mhin stepped lithely onto the railing and jumped. Three yards of dead air sped below you before their boots caught the rooftop with an impact that shook your heart against your rib cage. Hands scrabbling at the front of their shirt, you tucked your face into the thick, navy cloak. 

Mhin darted across the skyline, leaping across a street and onto the bedraggled rooftop of an apartment building nearby. They paused, leaned perilously over the edge, before hiking upward toward the eave of a window. 

“Ah!” You gasped as your body’s tugged roughly off their back and braced on the window sill. “Mhin - “

A finger pressed against your lips. Mhin shot you a warning look before digging into a leather pouch strapped to their belt. They withdrew a small bottle, luminescent blue liquid sloshing inside. “Drink this,” they whispered. 

When you reached for the bottle, Mhin jerked it back and huffed. “Still haven’t learned your lesson?” At your confused look, they grumbled, “not even going to ask what’s inside? How do you know this isn’t poison? Maybe I’m finally getting rid of you, now that an opportunity and a convenient patsy have arrived.” 

You stared back at them, exhausted, feeling as though your brain could be seeping through your ears. “Because it’s you.”

Gray eyes widened in shock before their head jerked to the side, hiding their expression beneath a hasty veil of white hair. But you could see a glimpse of their ear. The pale skin around the top and shell had flushed pink. “That’s… naive. Foolishly so.”

You summoned a wobbly smile and added wryly, “anyway, if you were going to kill me, you would’ve let Morgana finish the job and saved yourself the trouble of coming at all. Why waste the energy?”

“Finally, a sign of intelligence,” they grumbled, before pressing the bottle against your palm and leaving to peer over the side of the roof again.

Hands trembling, you tried to bring the bottle to your mouth without spilling. The tremors seemed to grow worse even as you sagged into the window frame, all the energy and fight leaching from your body. Gods but you felt so hot. 

Footsteps thundered on the cobblestone street. Men shouted orders at each other, their words difficult to parse but easily understood. You were being pursued by Morgana’s private security. 

Hastening, you managed to bring the bottle to chest height, heavily leaning your arm there as the muscles gave out. You had to hurry and drink. You couldn’t slow them down anymore, not after the pathetic scene you’d made that night. Tears of frustration pooled at the corners of your eyes, further blurring your surroundings. 

“They’re sending a group toward the nearby watchtower. We need to get to safer ground.” Mhin returned. Their eyes caught sight of the trembling bottle. Their jaw dropped. “Why haven’t you - “

You gritted your teeth and tried again, managing to get the lip of the potion to tap against your chin. The effort had you closing your eyes, tears spilling down your cheeks. Everything felt like too much. Heat burned out of you, drenching you in sweat. Invisible stones bore down on your limbs. And even as your body burned with lust, your heart ached in fear and regret that Mhin would lose respect for you because of this, that the tentative partnership you’d worked so hard for had been ripped away from one mistake - one stupid blunder - 

A warm hand wrapped around the desperate grip you had on the bottle. Another tugged you into a firm chest - the cold, pleated cotton shirt soothing against your inflamed skin. Their fingers curled under as Mhin brought the potion to your mouth.

Wisps of moonlight hair brushed across your nose and brow. Dove gray eyes looked back - the ever-present caution and threat they had born for so long softening from within the shadows of the cloak. 

You stared up into their face, lost within the fog, all of a sudden feeling strangely content. Three sluggish swallows later, and the bottle emptied. 

Tired to your bones, you sagged against them, cheek pressed to their chest, blinking sleepily. Mhin’s grip on your jaw eased. Their thumb lingered, drifting almost as though to stroke your face. 

“Look at you,” they sighed, holding still for a quiet moment. You focused on breathing, their familiar scent of steel and linen filling your lungs. Their next words whispered against the top of your head. “Next time… call me before you jump into some harebrained scheme alone.”

___________________________________________________

a/n: I hope that I have correctly codified mhin as a tsundere....

[sweetbonniebel]

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Six

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Masterlist <-previous , next->

minors mdni

110 AC King's Landing

You stood before the mirror as maids adjusted your dress, a long violet gown with dark red threads of dragons, a low cut cleavage and long sleeves that widened at your elbows. The same dress your mother wore when she married your father, seven and ten years ago.

Rhaenyra watched from your bed as the maids frantically moved around you fixing your dress, hair and putting on jewelry. Rhaenyra had to admit that you looked beautiful, the violet material of the gown matched your complexion and the embroidery went well with your red eyes. She never understood how you received different eyes than the Valyrian purple, both of your parents had violet eyes and yet you defied the custom.

Once you deemed that the maids nagging was enough you dismissed them with a flick of your hand. They quickly left your chamber leaving you and the heir.

"You look beautiful..." Rhaenyra said tracing the hems of your gown.

"It would be rather odd if I didn't." You jested, the princess laughed lifting the rather sad mood.

"I will miss you." She said leaning into you.

"As will I. But remember you have Laena, Daemon and a plethora of other ladies who would jump into fire for you." You tried to remind your niece.

"And yet none of them will ever compare to you." She answered, tears were beginning to form at your waterline, you blinked them back to avoid reddening your eyes.

Ser Steffon escorted you to the carriage that would take the royal family to the Great Sept. The familiar sculptures and tapestries of Old Valyria brought a sense of comfort in this rather nervous day.

The Crownlander's armor rattled with every move.

"Ser Steffon?" You called the knight.

"Princess." His gruff voice answered.

"I would like you to become my sworn shield and travel with me to Dorne." You announced, he widened his grey eyes. "A familiar face always makes a person feel more at home, despite being leagues away."

"I would be honoured, princess." He kneeled on one knee in front of you, you chuckled and placed your palm against his shoulder.

"Rise, Ser Steffon."

...

The great sept was packed with onlookers, the small folk collecting outside the gates of the temple. Your brother despite has decided to give you away. The heavy cloak of your house rested upon your shoulders. Viserys took you by the arm and led you to the altar.

"Who gives this woman away?" The septon asks

"I Viserys of House Targaryen King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm give away Princess y/n of House Targaryen to Prince Qoren of House Martell." Your brother recited his verse, his hands took of your cloak as he retreated into the crowd.

"And who takes this woman to be his wife." The septon continued

"I Qoren Martell Prince of Dorne, the lord of Sunspear take this woman, Princess y/n of House Targaryen to be my wife." The Dornishman answered, from your multiple talks you shared over the few weeks you learnt that he was not overly religious. You preferred to marry in the tradition of old Valyria, but Qoren was not of Valyrian descend. According to the council any other ceremony than in the faith of the seven would be an insult to the high septon and the faith.

"In the eyes of the seven you are now bound in holy matrimony. As the father provides justice, the mother mercy, the warrior strength, the smith mends all things broken, the maiden courage, the crone wisdom and the stranger who offers only death, you shall provide for each other with all that the seven pointed star provides." The septon prayed, once he finished he glanced at Qoren.

"With this cloak I bring you under my protection. I will keep you safe, cared for and respected I pledge this in the eyes of the old gods and the new." He draped the orange cloak with a red sun pierced by a golden spear on your shoulders.

"With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Qoren recited the verse as you did yours, once the words have left your throat, the prince leaned in and kissed your lips.

"You are now man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The septon ended the ceremony and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers. You smiled at your husband and he did the same.

You raised your joined hands in the air and the small folk erupted in cheers, and applause.

"Long live Princess y/n!"

"May your marriage be blessed!"

"The mother will bless you with many children, princess!"

Different shouts echoed through the great structure. You smiled at the small folk and waved and glanced at your husband to find him staring at you.

"You look radiant, wife." He mused caressing your palm with his thumb.

"You look very handsome yourself, husband."

The feast was grand, the guests danced, jested and ate their fill. You watched from your seat at the high table as Rhaenyra danced with Aegon, the young boy barely keeping up. You laughed at the sight happy that the two were getting along.

"Sister might I have this dance?" Daemon approached the high table, you sighed and nodded taking his hand.

"You look ethereal." Your brother said guiding you to the dance floor, where bards and musicians played.

"Thank you." You answered spinning.

"Will you be happy?" The rogue prince asked.

"Since when does it matter? But I will, If not I shall feed him to Vermithor." You jested.

"A true Targaryen."

"I will miss you..."

"As I you. You are my favourite sister after all."

"I'm your only sister."

"Exactly... According to the traditions of our house I would be the one to marry you."

"If that were true I wouldn't marry you, I would marry Viserys."

Daemon scoffed and picked you up to spin your body.

"I would sooner let Caraxes eat me that see you married to our brother."

The thing you dreaded most was the bedding ceremony, not because you were afraid of loosing your maidenhead but because you refused to have strange men undress you while making rude comments as was the Andal tradition.

After a talk with the council, you announced that the bedding ceremony won't take place. Some members, like Tyland Lannister and the Maester had voiced their disapproval but Daemon quickly silenced them.

Your maids carefully took off the heavy gown and detangled your hair, leaving you in your thin linen undergarments. Your husband has been instructed to visit you in your chambers to consummate the marriage. You knew what the act consists off, your ladies explained as did Ser Steffon. Aemma was just ten and one when she married Viserys you were thankful that you were six years older than the Queen.

Steffon's voice interrupted your thoughts, they were rather grim, something a bride should not concern herself with on her wedding day. Qoren walked in, a simple orange robe covered his body. You smiled a bit nervously at the man.

"It will be all right, I will take great care of your needs." His words slightly settled the nervousness that rattled your insides. You nodded thankfully, Qoren approached your form. You sat at the stool of your vanity, the Martell kneeled before you and took your hands into his.

"If you do not want to we can wait." He proposed but you shook your head.

"The court will talk if I have not been bedded by my husband." You responded looking at the man with slight fondness. He nodded and raised his head so he can meet your lips in a kiss.

"Have you done this before?" You asked as Qoren laid you on your bed.

"I have, my cousins took me to a brothel when I was four and ten." Your husband answered truthfully.

"Have you?"

"Of course not!" You protested, Qoren chuckled.

"I did not mean it as an insult, in Dorne we do not care for the brides maidenhead."

"It seems as if Dorne is a paradise for women." Qoren chuckled and pressed his lips against yours.

Qoren took off the long orange robe leaving him only in a thin linen shirt. You could see the outline of his manhood through the material. Your husband gently slid the undergarments from your body leaving you bare. The chilly air caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin, your nipples pebbled.

"You are beautiful." Your husband whispered as he placed kissed from your neck to your nether regions.

"Qoren-" You whimpered as he pressed a kiss on your mound.

"Shh, I will take care of you." He continued his ministrations, pleasure coiled in your abdomen. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you tangled your hand in Qoren's curly dark locks bringing his mouth closer to the place you needed him most.

"Moan louder I wish to hear how good I make you feel." His tongue pressed against your nub. A moan left your lips at the action.

"So good, please." You whispered as Qoren worked faster, the wetness between your legs grew with each passing second. The only thing on your husbands mind was to bring you ecstasy.

"Oh!" You moaned as pleasure rippled through your body, muscles spasming as Qoren licked your pussy clean.

He chuckled and propped himself up on his elbows, the peach fuzz on his chin glowed with your essence. You smiled hazily at him, blush covering your cheeks as you pressed a kiss against his lips.

"I want you to-" You begun but stopped feeling Qoren's cock press against your folds, coating himself in your wetness. "Put your cock inside."

"As you wish princess." The Martell price smiled, pumping his manhood a few times before gently pressing the tip against your entrance. You sucked in a breath at the unfamiliar intrusion. It was different than your fingers, warmer and bigger. Once his tip breeched your entrance a shaky moan left both of you.

"You're so warm." Your husband moaned and inched himself inside. You felt pleasure as his cock caressed your walls.

"Qoren harder." You moaned clawing at his back, the man nodded and pressed himself fully inside you. His pelvis touching yours, as his balls rested against your bottom.

Your body moved with his thrusts, his lips sucking kisses against your skin. Sex felt good, you were sure to do it more often.

"Close, y/n" He mumbled caressing your thigh. His other hand pressed against your nub amplifying your pleasure and brining you closer and closer. You felt him twitch, the kiss he pressed against your breast tipped you over the edge. Your walls spasming around his length triggering his own release. Ropes of hot seed filled your womb.

Ragged breath filled the chamber as Qoren pressed himself deep inside you.

"That felt good." You said caressing your husbands head that rested comfortably between your neck and shoulder.

"It did princess." The Martell smiled, wanting to roll over but you pressed your heel in his back preventing him from doing so.

"It feels good to have you inside me."

Tired from the activities the two of you fell asleep in each others embrace.

...

After a fortnight your husband has departed for sunspear, you stayed behind preferring to fly on dragon back to your new home than endure the endless bumpy ride of a carriage.

You dressed your red and black riding leather, Rhaenyra put your hair into three long braids. You leaned into her touch.

"I hate to see you go." Rhaenyra said kissing the top of your head. You sadly smiled.

"I will come back soon. Time will fly by quickly." You answered, holding Aegon in your arms. Sunfyre was strapped in a cage on Vermithors side.

You blinked away the tears that threatened to fall as you hugged Rhaenyra.

...

Princess y/n left King's Landing in 110 AC to join her husband Qoren Martell in Dorne. It is said that the red keep has lost it's warmth with the princesses departure. - From the dragon bringer by the feather and quill of Grand Maester Roland.

[ai-manre]

Marsh went on. "Mance Rayder's bowmen must have loosed ten thousand arrows at us, judging from the number of spent shafts we've gathered up. Fewer than a hundred reached our men atop the Wall, most of those lifted by some errant gust of wind. Red Alyn of the Rosewood was the only man to die up there, and it was his fall that killed him, not the arrow that pricked his leg. Donal Noye died to hold the gate. A gallant act, yes … but if the gate had been sealed, our brave armorer might still be with us. Whether we face a hundred foes or a hundred thousand, so long as we're atop the Wall and they're below, they cannot do us harm."

He's not wrong. Mance Rayder's host had broken against the Wall like a wave upon a stony shore, though the defenders were no more than a handful of old men, green boys, and cripples. Yet what Bowen was suggesting went against all of Jon's instincts. "If we seal the gates, we cannot send out rangers," he pointed out. "We will be as good as blind." - Jon III, ADWD

"We curse the rain when it falls upon our heads, yet without it we should starve. The world needs rain … and slaves. You make a face, but it is true. Consider Qarth. In art, music, magic, trade, all that makes us more than beasts, Qarth sits above the rest of mankind as you sit at the summit of this pyramid … but below, in place of bricks, the magnificence that is the Queen of Cities rests upon the backs of slaves. Ask yourself, if all men must grub in the dirt for food, how shall any man lift his eyes to contemplate the stars? If each of us must break his back to build a hovel, who shall raise the temples to glorify the gods? For some men to be great, others must be enslaved."

He was too eloquent for her. Dany had no answer for him, only the raw feeling in her belly. "Slavery is not the same as rain," she insisted. "I have been rained on and I have been sold. It is not the same. No man wants to be owned." - Dany III, ADWD

Seal the gates and don't let in any wildlings they say, for some men to be great others must be enslaved they say. Jon, Dany surrounded by a legion of people trying to sell inhumanity as rationality. But the two of them do not have the ability not to care, the ability to look away and turn their backs on people who are suffering.

[guybitesatgames]

You, Exalted player. Having trouble naming your new character or NPC? As far back as first edition, you could have fired up Voidstate's Exalted Name Generator* and gotten a couple dozen names, easy, and only a small percentage of them would be "Moon Moon" or "of of of of of". But some time in the past year or so, that site went down and now we're back to naming things by hand.

However.

Courtesy of the Wayback Machine and some minor skullduggery, I've pulled the list of words used to populate that generator. You'll find them, unedited except for formatting**, below the cut. Scroll around and you're sure to find some nouns, adjectives, and verbs that'll make your character or charm name feel sufficiently Exalted-y.

*I am in no way associated with the original creator. I did not make this list; I only seek to preserve it.

**Original spelling has been preserved, because it is possible that (in some cases) archaic spellings were included intentionally. If something looks weird, look it up, use your judgement, blame it on Old Realm.

 Colour

      Alabaster      Amber      Amythest      Ashen      Azure      Black       Bright      Brilliant      Cerulean      Citrine      Crimson      Ebon       Flaxen      Golden      Grey      Pale      Quicksilver      Radiant       Saffron     Scarlet      Shadowy      Silver      Vermillion      Violet       White

   Condition

      Adamant      Blazing      Blind      Celestial      Distant      Drunken       Elder      Empty      Eyeless      Final      First and Forsaken       Flaming      Forsaken      Hidden      Hungry      Invisible      Last       Masked      Ravenous      Secret      Silent      Veiled      Weeping       Whispering

   Emotion-negative

      Bitter      Blighted      Deadly      Death      Dirgeful      Ferocious       Funereal      Grieving      Grievious      Hateful      Poison       Rancourous      Sad      Savage      Sorrowful      Sour      Unrepentant      Vengeful      Venomous      Wrathful

   Emotion-positive

      Auspicious      Benificent      Blessed      Bounteous      Exaltant       Excellent      Flawless      Harmonious      Heavenly       Incomparable      Joyous      Jubilant      Perfect      Sagacious       Silken      Virtuous

   Heroic

      Battleworn      Glorious      Great      Invincible      Mighty       Stalwart      Triumphal      Triumphant      Unconquered       Undefeated      Victorious

   Movement

      Ascending      Descending      Flickering      Flowing      Fluttering       Leaping      Running      Soaring      Still      Towering      Unfettered       Wandering

   Number

      Eighth      Eleventh      Fifth      First      Fourth      Last      Ninth       Number One      Number Ten      One Hundredth              Second      Seventh      Sixth      Ten Thousandth       Tenth      Third      Twentieth One Thousandth

NOUNS

   Animal

      Bat      Bear      Bull      Carp      Coyote      Crane      Cricket      Crow       Dog      Dolphin      Dragon      Eagle      Ghost      Grasshopper       Hyena      Jackal      Leopard      Lion      Locust      Mammoth       Mantis      Monkey      Owl      Ox      Panther      Phoenix      Raiton       Rat      Raven      Scarab      Serpent      Shark      Snake      Spider       Tiger      Viper      Vulture      Wolf      Yeddim

   Body Part

      Blood      Claw      Eyes      Face      Finger      Fist      Hand      Heart       Mind      Nail      Silhoutte      Soul      Stance      Tooth      Wing

   Building

      Bier      Catacomb      Citadel      Demesne      Forge      Fortress       Gate      Keep      Kingdom      Labyrinth      Manse      Monastary       Monolith      Obelisk      Pillar      Prison      Rampart      Redoubt       Refuge      Ruin      Spire      Temple      Tomb      Tower      Vault

   Celestial Body

      Cloud      Heaven      Heavens      Horizon      Moon      Rainbow       Sky      Star      Starfall      Sun      Sunrise      Void      Wyld

   Charm General

      Attack      Attitude      Discipline      Evasion      Exercise      Form       Glance      Intuition      Invigoration      Meditation      Method       Prana      Spirit      Stance      Style      Technique      Temper       Understanding

   Charm Combat

      Attack      Block      Blow      Counterattack      Evasion      Fist       Form      Hammer      Kick      Prana      Stance      Strike       Technique      Throw

   Location

      City      Depths      East      Forests      Heavens      Land       Mountains      North      Oceans      Seas      Sky      South       Underworld      Wasteland      Waves      West      Woods

   Metal or Stone

      Bronze      Copper      Granite      Iron      Metal      Obsidian      Onyx      Ore      Steel      Stone

   Natural Object

      Blossom      Boulder      Cliff      Dawn      Day      Dusk      Forest       Frost      Garden      Hill      Ice      Iceflow      Lightning      Lotus       Midnight      Mist      Monsoon      Mountain      Night      Oak       Ocean      Orchid      Paradise      Rainbow      Reed      River     Rose       Skies      Sky      Storm      Thunder      Thunderhead      Tsunami       Twilight      Waterfall      Willow      Wind

   Negative

      Abyss      Anger      Ash      Ashes      Bitterness      Death      Dirge       Dust      Havoc      Loss      Misery      Oblivion      Pain      Plague       Sadness      Vengeance      Venom      Wrath

   Person

      Assassin      Bodhissatva      Bureaucrat      Empress      Guardian       Hero      Hunter      Killer      King      Lord      Lover      Maiden       Master      Prince      Princess      Queen      Sage      Scholar       Tyrant      Warrior

   Precious Material

      Crystal      Diamond      Emerald      Gemstone      Glass      Ivory       Jade      Moonsilver     Oricalchum      Platinum      Ruby       Sapphire      Silk      Soulsteel      Starmetal

   Relation

      Ally      Child      Daimyo      Daughter      Father      Lord      Master        Mother      Ovalisque      Serf      Servant      Slave      Son

   Weapon

      Axe      Blade      Bow      Fist      Gauntlet      Hammer      Knife       Lance      Shield      Spear      Staff      Sword

VERBS

   Destroying

      Breaking      Consuming      Crushing      Destroying      Devouring       Piercing      Scorning      Smashing      Smiting      Stealing       Sundering      Tearing      Thrashing

   Loving

      Esteeming      Glorifying      Kissing      Loving      Praising       Treasuring      Worshipping

[meownotgood]

let us live, if we must die. / chapter three: eclipse

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince. 

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pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 15.3k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, reader has many Thoughts, hurt / comfort, aki comforting reader, angst, but don't worry they're figuring things out

notes: thank you for patiently waiting for this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!! the next chapter will be long as well, so I appreciate your patience again... love you and appreciate you

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

════════════════════

You always knew Aki was royalty. 

In the time since you first hid away in this forest, you've learned to take necessary precautions. You track the whereabouts of demons each time you go out, drawing them away with spells, and watching for fresh footprints. You learned to attune yourself completely to the magic circle you created, to be sure you'll catch the faint waves of an unfamiliar aura the moment it enters. 

Spells can summon certain books from a handful of easy to find materials, and those books can then be used to summon more. Your mother's grimoires, the few you managed to take with you when you fled the city, became your gateway into a world you'd never once known. 

Deciphering magical tomes takes patience. It's a lengthy process, but it's worth it. You've learned the means to make valuable potions, and you've mastered spells that could save your life: invisibility, hypnosis, spell-shields. With so much time on your hands, and with the unbound freedom to do so, you have no reason to ever stop honing your magic. 

You can always learn more, you can always be safer. You must be prepared for every situation, and you need to take all outcomes into account. No-one can be trusted; no-one but yourself. In the moment of truth, you can't afford to make any mistakes. You need to be ready. For anything, and everyone. 

And so, when an inexplicable, elven, injured stranger comes knocking — and promptly passes out — at your door, the first damn thing you're going to do is check all his pockets. 

It doesn't take the wisdom of a thousand year old wizard to know he was from the city. The kingdom is the only notable settlement for miles. There's small towns here and there. Farmland you'll pass if you're making your way to the gates. No offense to him — to Aki, right, you still need to learn his name — but he doesn't seem like a farm boy. Or an adventurer. Or royalty, for that matter. 

You couldn't have known. Obviously, he'd be from the city, but royalty? An alleged demon-hunter and a man of royalty, how does that make any sense? 

Staring up at the shadow-filled ceiling of your bedroom, you pull your blanket up to your chin, and rub your pained temple with two fingers. You can't seem to get comfortable, no matter how much you've been tossing and turning in your bed. The living room has been silent. Aki is probably asleep now. Your mind can't seem to stop racing, either, and perhaps that's why you can't catch any sleep. 

The clothes he showed up in were simple. Racking your brain and snuggling into your bed, you bring yourself back to the moment you met him. You recall the discomfort in his expression, the crimson on his palm. The way moonlight framed him with dark hues and fuzzy edges. 

You don't know enough about jewelry to be able to tell if the earrings on his pointed ears are the expensive sort. They're simple, black, and made with smooth metal. You remember seeing a gemstone you couldn't recognize, delicately placed in the center of a hanging star. Now that you're thinking about it, they could be worth more than your life, if you're unlucky. Or maybe they're worth nothing, you suppose. Just the sort of imitations they sell for substantial mark-ups at early morning markets. 

After the mysterious stranger passed out on your doorstep, you dragged him inside and out of the rain. You didn't have a choice in the matter at the time, really. He was already limp and Gods, was he heavy. Setting up the cot and plopping him onto it was the true challenge. 

Miraculously, you found no other major injuries once you inspected him. And thankfully, most of the plant life you collected that day is perfect for healing. 

Thankfully for him, at least. You weren't exactly thrilled to spend your entire stock on someone else. You'll have to put your plans to practice potion-making on hold, you suppose. In any case, he came at just the right time. Thank the Gods for that. 

The gash on his side was as dire as you thought. It was a jagged, clearly painful slice, no doubt made by the trained swipe of a demon's talons, and enough to make you wince when you removed his shirt to examine it. Demons usually aim for the throat, whenever possible. Aki is lucky he managed to throw one of them off its aim. 

You tended to the wound quickly, cleaning it with fresh water, and salving it with herbs. Finally, you wrapped his torso in makeshift bandages, tearing off parts of your cape when you began to run out. 

You rinsed his shirt, scrubbing what stains you could out of the fabric. Upon further inspection, you noticed his hands were covered in scrapes. His fingers are long and thin. Pretty, almost. His palms were calloused, rough to the touch. Dried blood was caked into his skin. Carefully, you scrubbed the blood from his palms and his knuckles, while you tried to keep your gaze from drifting up to his face. A pointless endeavor, in the end. 

His hair fanned out around him, still slightly-damp. His brows were pinched as he slept. Warm firelight danced softly over his features: a sharp jaw, a straight nose, messy bangs. You forced yourself to look away, your face growing hot. You can't get distracted. Before he wakes, you have more important things you need to take care of. 

Once you were all finished patching him up, you leant close to make sure he was still sleeping; his chest rose and fell steadily, he exhaled in slow, calm breaths. Then, you proceeded to rummage through what he had on him. If you couldn't pick his brain yet, your best shot at discerning who he is or what he's after would be to search his belongings — and that you did. 

His pants had no pockets on the back, but two in the front. The left pocket was empty, save for one silver coin. Money means nothing to you, and so you returned it, right where it was. A promise to get out of your hair eventually was the only payment you needed. 

The other pocket, however, did carry something. Something very, very terrible. 

In the right pocket of his trousers, you found a small, gold medallion. It was smooth, circular, with a sparkling blue gem in the middle — reminiscent of the sea, and the color of his eyes. Intricate engravings surrounded the stone: runic text you couldn't quite make out in the low light, and the sun, the moon. Along with a winged dragon, curled around the empty space. 

Your heart sank so deep in your chest you just about let it drown, and that's when you knew you were absolutely doomed. 

This is the kingdom's symbol, the kingdom's royal crest. Commoners and knights are allowed to carry similar motifs, but only someone of great importance would have a medallion with this stone, and these exact symbols. 

Sapphires are only meant to be worn by descendants of royal families. They're priceless. Imitations can rarely capture their luster, although creating them is punishable with prison time — and Gods, with the way this gem sparkles when you hold it close to the fire, your head is practically spinning. 

You hold the medallion in shaky, unsure hands, unable to tear your gaze away. The room begins to twirl around you, and the gem inside shimmers, with a depth unlike anything you've ever seen. As though worlds upon universes are hidden inside it. Your throat feels as dry as a desert, and your heart won't stop hammering. You glance up. None the wiser, the man you've saved is still sleeping peacefully, his features soft, and his lips parted slightly as he lets go of faint, steady breaths. 

Oh, you've really done it this time. Could you have crossed paths with anyone worse? 

Perhaps he's a thief. He could have stolen the medallion, snatched it right out of the pockets of some oblivious royal advisor, and now he's hiding out here to avoid getting caught. As much as you want to believe that, as much as you want to imagine you don't have a man of importance in your cottage right now, that conclusion hardly makes sense. 

This man, a thief? And one skilled enough to steal a royal medallion, of all things? With the way Aki came stumbling into your magic circle and onto your doorstep, you doubt he'd know subtlety if he was hit over the head with it. 

He doesn't talk like how you imagined royalty would — Granted, how does a royal person talk? You always imagined some sort of overly flowery, fancy speech. Like the kind in the books you've read, about places and tales you'd much rather escape to. 

Aki. You've never heard a name quite like his before. Just a few syllables, just a few letters. Kings and princes and squires usually have much fancier names, don't they? The knight in the book you've been reading is named Heinrich Vincent, and the princess is called Miss Edith Violet. Perhaps only the most important people have important names. Or perhaps, those books are just as you assumed they were: fairytales, and nothing more. 

Aki is someone special then, he must be. That's your assumption — it's the only assumption you can come to, despite how the very thought makes your chest ache. He's probably a royal guard, someone with a bit of fighting experience, who thought he could stand a chance against a forest full of devils. Maybe he's some duke's distant cousin. He could be a mere knight, accepted as royalty after he became a princess' suitor. 

Honestly, he could be anything, for all you care. Your magic is what caused him to nearly die out there. It was your spell, your doing that drew the demons together. You, heralding demons with your magic, like you're one of the archmages the history books warn about. 

Your magic. Damn it all. The predicament you've found yourself in is so much worse than you ever could have imagined. 

As the night stretched on and the rain battered your cottage, your more present problem helped to keep your worries at bay. You kept busy, preparing his medicine, and tending to the roaring fireplace. He mumbled in his sleep, occasionally. It wasn't really anything of note, merely fragmented sentences that barely made sense. Mumbled swears and slurred, barely-there apologies to no-one in particular. 

When the man awakened, you held your resolve. You ignored the skip in your heart when his soft eyes met yours. You kept your unpracticed voice from wavering, and didn't shy away from any conversations. 

It's been a very long time since you've heard someone else talk, especially this much. Those knights from ages ago only spared you a moment and a handful of words. Your own voice is comfortable, a melody your ears would gladly be wrapped in. You hate this, though. You despise the way you sound when your tone is threatening to wobble. The lump in your throat is all his fault; you can't think when he's speaking to you, can't focus on anything but the firelight as it flickers over his face. 

And Aki's voice is smooth. Ridiculously smooth. He sounds assured when he speaks, his tone deep, words careful. You can't help but be hung onto everything he says to you, your spine tingling and your heart racing. It's strange, to hear a voice besides your own for once, and to have someone else filling the empty space in your quiet little cottage. 

Aki's voice holds the ocean, every word plunging you into deeper depths, until he has warm waves rolling gently over your shoulders. Heat and exhilaration engulf you whole at the simplest of sentiments. Thinking to yourself, you toss and turn again, your worn, wooden bed creaking slightly from your movement. Even now, you can't help but think of him. You picture his voice, quiet and calm. You imagine the soft smiles he gave you, and your veins surge with a feeling you can't possibly describe. 

You could listen to him speak forever. But Aki and forever are two luxuries you aren't afforded. 

If he ever discovers who you are or what you've done, you won't even get a trial. He would hate you. You could never be allies, not with the secrets you hold. Not when he is royal, and you are a witch. 

A man with such important ties to the kingdom, royalty or not, could make your fate whatever he wished. They'd schedule your execution for the very next morning, surely. The sooner you're disposed of, the better it is for the land. Hundreds would crowd the square to gawk at the witch a nobleman captured. Your poor mother would be frowning upon you from the heavens, as she watched her only child suffer her same fate. 

Even as your eyes met those of your executioner, your hands tied behind your back with your wrists rubbed raw from the rope, and your head rested over a thick piece of wood, you wouldn't fight back. None of them would see an ounce of your magic, for better, or for worse. It would die with you, and everything would be your fault. You should have been more careful. Less kind. 

Would Aki want to dispose of you himself? Could he be the one to bring his blade down on your neck? Would his normally-gentle expression be contorted in disgust, guilt, or conviction, as he whispered a deathly quiet I'm sorry to you, before his hands tightened on the hilt? 

You aren't sure, nor do you want to know. If he ever proves dangerous, in order to survive, you would have to take matters into your own hands. He seems to trust you now, but if you became enemies, if you were ever forced to —

Aki's soft, slight smile drifts through your mind right then. In your dark bedroom, you can't help but groan, and cover your face with your hands. 

No, you couldn't, you wouldn't. And it isn't just because it's him. It isn't simply because Aki is inexplicably kind and intriguing and the first person to speak with you in years. When you imagine him discovering the truth, learning who you are and deciding he hates you, a metaphorical knife twists into your gut. You'd rather he just take you to the kingdom and have you dealt with there, because even with your life on the line, you know you couldn't hurt him. 

This man could very well lead you to your end. So why, why did you tell him to stay? 

Death has always scared you, always haunted you. You've heard the stories they tell of mages, tales painting them as wicked beings who crush those who stand in their way under their feet. You want to be better. Pin you as soft, weak, or everything in between, you hardly care. Magic was meant to help, not harm. One day, perhaps far after your lifetime, magic and death won't walk hand in hand. One day, you hope you might be free. 

And Aki — he would have died without you, you're sure of it. He might not be an adventurer, but you can buy that he's an experienced fighter. His body is covered in scars, in slashes left by devil claws or teeth. His palms are rough and calloused, which would make sense if he often wields a sword. He claimed to be a devil hunter, and when he spoke, the clearest sense of desperation present in his voice, you couldn't help but believe him. 

You are a mage. A terrible, less than human blight, according to those in the kingdom. And Aki might be royalty. If you ever wound up following him to the city like he offered, you could be punished for even laying a single finger on him. 

But were you just supposed to let him perish? 

When you stood frozen in place at your door, clutching your heart as thunder broke through the night sky above, you were reminded of the kingdom. Of the death you witnessed there: the deaths of strangers, your acquaintances, your family. Your mind whirled with the image of the man you saw through the door's peephole. Chest heaving, blood dripping over his fingers; dull crimson, like the blade of an executioner's sword. 

You've seen the way one looks when light is slipping from their eyes, with no hope left of clinging onto it. You imagined the sapphire spark to Aki's eyes fading into nothingness; crushed, and crumpling. Right then, your mind must have made itself up. 

Aki doesn't deserve to die. Royalty be damned, he doesn't deserve to be eaten by those demons, left behind in an endless forest, afraid and alone. Trusting him here might wind up as the worst, most regrettable decision you've ever made. And yet, he has already trusted you with his life, hasn't he? 

Your heart just needs to take the first, fatal step. Perhaps you need to let yourself trust. 

Fucking hell. You need to stop your incessant thinking and let yourself sleep, that's what. Honestly, you've never felt this stressed in your entire life. How in the world are you supposed to handle this? Handle him? 

He won't discover you're a mage, you'll make certain of that. You can't afford to be naive, no matter how you might be feeling. It doesn't matter how fast your heart is pounding right now as you lie in bed, sleepless, unable to keep your steady stream of thoughts from flowing back to him. Simply put, it's your fault he's in this mess in the first place — and you're going to be the one to fix it. 

With a few small adjustments, you can make sure all of the magical items in your cottage are properly hidden away. You could heal him faster, if you were allowed to use magic. A potion would have him feeling better in no time, a healing spell could seal his wound almost immediately. Though, obviously, you'll have to work with the old ways for now. You'll need to make sure you're waking up early tomorrow to gather the necessary materials. 

His wound will need to be tended to frequently, to keep it from getting infected. You'll prepare a concoction of herbs for him to take twice a day, and that'll help to keep his energy up. Rest will be important too, of course. There's plenty of normal, boring books strewn around your cottage, if he needs something to put him to sleep. As long as everything goes to plan, he should be fine to leave in a couple of days. 

Right. Just a few days, and he'll be gone. The stranger you met by chance, who you saved on purpose, will fade into the forest until he becomes a fuzzy, unimportant blip in your memory. 

Somehow, the thought doesn't fill you with the relief you would've expected. 

In your cupboard, you still have some white-hazel left. Normally, the small, thin-petaled flowers don't grow during this time of year. You've decided to start keeping some extras as of late, just in case. White-hazel makes the mind foggy. The dried petals have to be sealed carefully in a jar, because the smell alone can get into your head. You would use small batches of it to ward away demons, before your distraction spells were perfected. 

You doubt you'll ever be able to forget him. However, with a potent enough dosage, if you gave Aki some of those petals, you could erase every memory he has of you. 

You'll allow him to stay, just long enough so he can recover. Once he's healthy, you'll send him on his way with a filled flask — a potion, infused with a hint of your magic. He'd only need to take a sip or two. Then, everything up until the moment he entered the forest would be lost. He wouldn't remember you, or your cottage, or the pain the demons brought upon him. It's better this way, really. 

In the meantime, you must avoid growing closer to him. Revealing even the smallest of details could put you at risk, before you have the chance to make good on your plan. He doesn't have to know your name. Nor anything about you. 

Aki is nothing more than a stranger, an unlucky coincidence, an empty promise. Ultimately, he will stay that way. 

When you eventually drift off to sleep, it isn't until hours later. Your heart stays tied up in knots, and you dream of nothing but a cold, shuddering darkness. 

— 

One thing's for sure, if Aki is a man of royal blood, he certainly doesn't act like it. 

He isn't… uncouth, as a fancy nobleman might call it. Actually, he's pretty damn polite. He always keeps his space in the living room tidy. His voice is gentle when he speaks to you, dripping with a thick sense of kindness you aren't at all used to. In the few days since he first started staying with you, he's been nothing but patient and respectful.

He's kept to resting, mostly. After the first night, you managed to move all of your spellbooks and magical items to your bedroom. By the second, you had properly concealed everything behind magic that should be impossible to detect. Although you weren't about to give him a reason, you finally made sure to mention he should continue sleeping in the living room, and avoid entering your bedroom under any circumstances. 

When you told him this morning, Aki didn't question it. He flashed you a slightly amused look, while he tugged on the laces of his boots to tighten them, and plainly, he answered, Of course. It's your bedroom, obviously I wouldn't go in. Do you take me as rude? 

Huh. No, he's far from rude, even though you never wound up formulating a response. He doesn't complain about the bitter herbs you have him take. He barely winces or grumbles while you tend to his wound, rewrapping his bandages. 

Sometimes you'd find him pacing around the living room to stretch his sore legs, but otherwise, he's been getting plenty of rest in his cot — just as you'd instructed. He's so quiet some days, if you're reading or tidying things in your bedroom, you'll tend to forget he's even there. Aki is different from what you were expecting, that's all. 

He's a good sort of different, though. Maybe it's your fault, for having such silly expectations in the first place. You thought people from the kingdom — especially people of royalty — were supposed to be stuck-up, selfish, boring. Overly-posh, and with nothing interesting to talk about besides themselves. 

You admired those from the castle when you were younger. You wanted to be noticed by them, or maybe you wanted to be them. Now, you can only imagine royalty as bland and heartless. They spend their days cooped up in their castles, tending to dull affairs. And for their nights, they attend such fancy dinners and parties, while the commoners in the kingdom are left to rot. 

Aki serves to defy all of those expectations. 

Granted, the moments you've spent together since the night you first took him in have been few and far between. He didn't seem to notice how you initially avoided him, and he didn't protest when you'd leave for the entire day to forage. He doesn't comment whenever you stow away, the door to your bedroom shut tight, while you keep to yourself for hours at a time. It's difficult to find words whenever he's near. You get choked up inside, your heart pounds in your ears like that of a frightened rabbit, and you aren't sure if it's because of the lingering fear, or perhaps the proximity. 

Tending to his wound shouldn't be the event your overthinking brain makes it out to be, but Aki sits so close, closer than anyone else has ever been. You can hear the echoes of his breathing, can feel his soft and scarred skin underneath your fingertips. His muscles tense as you press gently to the sore scrape on his side. 

Can he hear the quickened edge to your breathing, too? You wonder if Aki knows he's already killing you from the inside; no-one has ever trusted you like this, just as you've never trusted another. It's relieving to know your foolishness is mutual. 

Your conversations while you're patching him up are pleasant, albeit brief. They're space and silence fillers. Still, it's the only time where you truly get to talk to him. Where you can exchange more than a couple of words, at least. You know you only have yourself to blame, but you don't want him to realize you know more than you're letting on. You try to keep your time together and your questions to a minimum. 

Aki explains that although he's found himself in plenty of scuffles with devils before, he hasn't been wounded like this in quite a long while. Weaker devils rarely faze him, but this time, he was distracted. It'll be relieving to finally recover, he says. He wants to be able to move, to fight again. He's been growing a little stir-crazy here, apparently. 

In a hurry to leave, are you? You mumbled, while you carefully pressed a damp rag to his skin, your gaze focused on the task. The fireplace crackled from beside you, warming your limbs and chasing away the cold chill of the night. You miss the kingdom that much? 

I don't miss it at all. Aki answered, not missing a beat. He shivered from the coolness of the cloth, a fire-lit glow pooling over his slightly-tanned skin. I just feel like I could be more useful. I'm not accustomed to… to this. You're the first person I've ever owed my life to. The sooner I recover, the sooner I can begin finding some way to repay you. 

You wanted to reassure him repayment won't be necessary. In the end, you held your tongue. 

Aki continued, and with nothing else to fill the air, you listened. He's quite a good story-teller, in your opinion. As your fingers curiously felt the ridges of another deep scar on his stomach, Aki recounted the tale behind it: he was far from the city. Miles and miles, in fact. The devil he encountered was three times his size. It had a body made of bone, with a wolf-like, hollow skull, illuminated only by red eyes that shone like glowing, flickering flames. 

And you defeated it? You hum in slight disbelief, a brow raised; this time, you're looking up at him, bandages held loosely in your hands. All by yourself? 

Yes, all by myself, Aki answers, tone smooth and unflinching. His expression can't be read, but you swear you catch a hint of a barely-there smile on his lips. 

Defeating it was the easy part, He says, pointing to the jagged scar, Save for the blow it landed right here. I followed its trail into the mountains, and by the time I tracked it down, I was utterly lost. I slept out there for three days before I finally found my way back to the closest town. I showed up exhausted, hungry, and covered in every kind of scrape and bruise you can picture. 

You smooth out his bandages and secure them with a tight knot. Sounds like how we met. 

Yeah. Those townspeople weren't as kind as you are, though. They fed me river snails. 

Right then, you can't stop yourself from laughing. You're chuckling through your words — he sounded so damn serious — and you're gazing up at him with a rather playful grin. 

Snails? You question, Did they taste disgusting? 

Aki is smirking slightly, a potent spark burning in the back of his sapphire eyes. They were awful. Way worse than any medicine you could ever give me. I guess the people there thought the snails had healing properties- It took me a whole week to recover, by the way. And the inns were out of rooms, so can you guess where they had me stay? 

I'm not sure. Where? 

A brothel. 

When you freeze, your eyes going as wide as a full moon, Aki clears his throat, and he nervously glances between you and the fireplace. It was uneventful. Very, very uneventful. Definitely nothing like what you must be imagining- sorry. We should save the rest of those stories for another day. Right? 

You remember rolling your eyes, before you breathed an amused exhale, and proclaimed that yes, it certainly sounds like a stupid story, but you would like that. 

The logical side of you says you probably shouldn't. Aki isn't your ally, nor could he ever be your friend. Looking forward to the few moments you spend together is pointless, when the both of you will be forced to forget them in a few day's time. 

Aki's experiences are enthralling. His voice is like a damn vice, lulling you into getting lost in him. You haven't been anywhere but the kingdom many ages ago and this forest. But Aki has seen towns, oceans, and mountains. In pursuit of the devils he's set out to slay, he's been to places you could only dream of. He is a dream you cannot have, a friend you must not make. 

As the days stretch on and on, and as your forgotten dreams meld with the intricate stories Aki recounts for you, those little talks seem to stick inside your mind. 

If only things were different. If only you weren't you, and he wasn't what you know him to be. A man of royalty, conversing with a witch. 

Darkness will always be ruined by light. 

For now though, you have to focus on the present. Aki has been healing well from his injury. In only a few days, he's recovered most of his energy. Although he still needs a bit more time before he can put a true amount of strain on himself, he's fine to walk, at least. Fine to leave the cottage, as long as he isn't wandering far. 

And he's well enough that he can finally join you, as you venture into the depths of the forest to search for the belongings he left behind. 

— 

"Do you think my bag is still out here?" 

Staring down at your feet, you breathe a light tsk at that, and you kick a pebble with your next step forwards to send it skittering in front of you. "Possibly. Demons don't tend to mess with human junk. What did you have in there?" 

Aki hums in thought, his brows pinching. He attempts to count by using his fingers. "I had a notebook, a pen, some ink, some gold… some clothes, I think. Nothing too important." 

"If they got into your bag, maybe they'd take the coins," You answer methodically, "But otherwise, everything should be right where you left it. Keep an eye out, and let me know if anything starts looking familiar." 

The bright rays of the sun warm your bare skin, shining onto your arms and shimmering over the rippling, shallow water. You've been following the river's edge for a while now, walking along the path it creates while occasionally veering closer to the forest to look around. Aki couldn't recall exactly where he was attacked; not that you can blame him. That night was dark, stormy, and either way, every tree and bush and field of grass looks exactly the same. However, he did remember hearing the babble of the river nearby. Following it gives you the best chance of finding his things, you suppose. 

Today, the sky is bright blue and cloudless. Gravel crunches under your boots. The river laps at the rocks, and morning songbirds chirp from the distant trees. With your hands shoved in your pants pockets, and your gaze focused on your feet, you make sure to take careful steps over fallen logs and twisted roots. Aki keeps pace beside you, following you more than he's following the river. 

His hair is half-tied up like the day you met him, showing off his delicate earrings and pointed ears. He looks much different in the sunlight. More handsome, surely, spotted rays shining through the forest's canopy to paint amber patterns across his skin. The sleeves of his tunic have been rolled up to expose his scarred forearms. 

He keeps a healthy level of distance from you, not straying too far or walking too close. He's glancing between the path ahead, the forest, and sometimes to you. You're glad. If he was any closer, you doubt you'd be able to keep your thoughts clear. 

Demons — or devils, as he calls them — are few in number during the early morning hours, so you made sure to leave with Aki just after dawn. By now, you likely have two or three hours at most, before the devils start appearing from their dens. 

You're already halfway along the river's trail. You should be able to finish searching, and you'll have plenty of time to head back to the cottage. You'll plan to collect some herbs and mushrooms on the way back. That way, locating Aki's belongings or not, this trip won't end up a total bust. 

You'll find his things though, hopefully. This side of the forest was where you placed your distraction rune. 

Aki has to walk a bit slower than you. Clearly, he's trying not to let the pain still left in his side show; he doesn't wince or falter much from the pace you've set. Although you don't mind, you aren't used to having to wait for someone else to catch up. You fall into a rhythm of skipping ahead, hopping over stones, and then stopping once you get a short way in front of him. Aki gives you an entertained look when you wait, turning back to glance at him. You decide to deliberately slow down to keep yourself at his side, and you try to ignore the heat you feel budding at the back of your neck. 

The sun's warmth is calming. It shines sparsely through the trees, evoking a heavy feeling in your veins when it hits your skin. If it wasn't for Aki walking so close beside you, you'd probably have fallen asleep standing up. You roll your shoulders backward, and stretch your arms to the sky. Then, you yawn, trying to blink away the fuzziness in your vision. To no avail, unfortunately. 

"Tired?" Aki pipes up. You hadn't noticed he was looking at you until his voice startled you awake. 

You rub your eyes, shrugging. "Kind of. But I'll be fine." 

If you instead were honest with him, with yourself, you are very tired. Your head feels weighed down by thick stones, as large and cumbersome as the ones in the river bed. Your limbs feel weaker and more sluggish than usual, as though they're actively working against you. Since Aki started staying in your cottage, you haven't slept well at all. Last night, you kept tossing and turning, thinking just to think some more. Your mind won't keep steady. 

You hate not knowing exactly what you're supposed to do. You hate that you can't figure him out, no matter how much you think or try to pry information from him. Your messy plan could go awry a thousand different ways because of a thousand different things and — 

Aki is still staring at you. Blinking, you turn away, hoping he didn't notice you zoning out. 

"You sure?" Aki asks, a brow raised. Okay, he totally noticed. "That's probably the fourth or fifth time you've yawned in the past five minutes. We can take a break, if you'd like. I wouldn't mind pushing our search back to tomorrow." 

"I'm okay, really," You scoff. You kick another pebble, and watch as it flies into the river, pushed by the current for a bit before it slowly sinks to the bottom. "Let's just hurry. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we'll be safe from demons." 

For a couple of moments, you both fall into silence. The only sound to echo between you is your boots crunching the gravel. But still, Aki's gaze is on you: astute and sparkling. Even though you're staring at your shoes, you can clearly see him glancing at you from the corner of your eye, his mouth pressed into a focused line. He's pondering. Was it something you said? 

You didn't mess up, did you? 

Aki breathes a small hmm, and he calmly concludes, "You aren't familiar with devils, are you?" 

Suddenly, you're stopping in your tracks. Aki freezes beside you. His expression is unreadable as you turn to face him, giving him a particularly annoyed look. 

"What makes you say that?" You retort, hardly trying to hide the bit of harshness laced through your tone. You've been fighting the stupid creatures for almost your entire life, of course you're knowledgeable about them. Knowledgeable enough, at least. 

"Well, you call them demons," Aki replies, sounding indifferent. "Pretty sure my great grandparents were the last ones to call them that." 

"It's the same thing." You turn back to following the river, and continue walking while you speak. "I've survived out here for as long as I have, with demons lurking in every inch of this forest. And you think I know nothing of them?" 

Demons. You couldn't recall what your parents might've called them, or what those in the kingdom knew them as. During your earliest days in the forest, you remember summoning a book on, to quote the book's title: Formidable Demons and Magical Creatures. The book must have been centuries old. At the time, you didn't have enough experience to decipher it. You flipped through the pages and memorized the illustrations of "known demons", before tucking the tome away on your shelf, to be read at a later date. 

Damn. You have plenty of first-hand experience, but if most of your knowledge is sourced from some dusty old book you never actually wound up finishing, maybe he's right. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," He apologizes, speeding up a bit so he can continue walking beside you. "I'm not knocking how resourceful you are, it's impressive. Perhaps I should have worded it differently. You're familiar with devils, yes. But I think your perspective of them might be much different from mine." 

Your eyes narrow. Thinking, you cross your arms in front of you, and your gaze drifts back to the path ahead. 

"Okay, so," You start, your words a bit less assured this time, "I know demons- devils- come in multiple forms. They feed off of fear, they're always carnivores, and they can only be slain, they'll never die of old age. There. Promise you'll cut me some slack if I missed anything." 

"Don't worry," Aki hums, "That was perfect. Devils grow stronger in the presence of fear. I'm sure you already know as much. They become drawn to the fear people have for them, like a moth to firelight." 

When you find yourself absently glancing back towards Aki, your eyes wind up meeting his own. Holding his gaze feels soft, as though you're falling into clouds. You examine the distinct, pointed shape of his ears. His earrings shimmer once they catch the sunlight, and sway slightly with each of his steps. 

"Correct me if this isn't right, but I've heard demons love elves." Your brows form the slightest pinch. "Supposedly, their blood is ripe with magic." 

Aki laughs. "Those stories about elves are just tales. My blood is no more delicious than yours. And either way, even if it was true, I'd wager devils haven't done a very good job at making me their prey." 

"Makes sense. I guess those creatures don't care whose blood they're spilling, as long as they can get their fix of it." 

"What else do you think of them?" Aki asks, his head tilted slightly in your direction. "Of devils, I mean." 

You fall silent. Cautiously, carefully, you attempt to figure out what sort of answer Aki is wanting to hear. 

The oldest tales, just as old as the ones you once read about elves and kings and long-gone magical creatures, say devils were born jealous of humanity. They envied the magic humans were capable of using — and so, they sought to extinguish it. Your current understanding would tell you devils don't care for magic, or humanity, or jealousy. All they desire is destruction, for common folk and mages alike. 

The relationship between humanity and devils is reciprocal. Humans and elves are the only ones capable of destroying devils, but devils need people in order to grow stronger. Devils need their fear, their torment. Weaker devils will go after whatever they're capable of hunting, but intelligent devils know how to bend people to their advantage. They excel at manipulation. And as senseless as it might seem, devils do possess plenty of things humanity does not. 

You fiddle with the straps of your backpack, running your thumbs over the smooth leather and gold buckles. In response, you can only think to offer the most simple, obvious of statements. 

"I think anyone who chooses to make a deal with a devil is a fool." 

Aki goes quiet. Then, he grins, and breathes something of a half-laugh, half-sigh. The gentle sound does well to put you at ease. 

"Yeah," He replies, "Foolish, greedy, or desperate. Or perhaps all three. Careful-" 

Nearly tripping, you stop when he does. You almost walked right into a large log, where the river bends and breaks upon the mossy wood blocking its way. Aki briefly extends his hand out for you to take, but you hop over without his help, taking a large step over the log before returning your hands to your pockets. 

He's making that same endearing, pondering face again. 

"You've probably already heard this story, but," He begins, speaking while you both walk, "They say devils came into existence the day the elves cast their first spell. Mankind was impure. The Gods made devils our punishment for casting magic ripe with impurities. When elves first discovered healing spells, devils began to appear with the ability to heal themselves of any attack inflicted upon them. Humanity discovered fire magic. Then came devils with fire-drenched skin. Their bodies melted metal, and they scorched the ground they touched, leaving an ashen trail in their wake." 

You like the way Aki tells stories. He recounts them in such a deliberate way, as though he's reading directly from one of your fairytale books. This story is grim, and certainly one you've heard before. Yet, you can't stop the smile that begins to tug at your cheeks. 

"Mhmm. And then, the devils slaughtered everyone and left the world in ruin," You tease, glancing towards him playfully, your hands at your hips. "Do you enjoy scaring children with that old story?" 

"Occasionally. My version of it usually ends with humanity defeating the devils, though. You know, happy endings and such." 

"Right. A happy ending sounds nice. Don't want to scare them too much." 

Aki hums in agreement. "We could have one- a happy ending. That story isn't over yet." 

His story, or yours? 

You swallow, thickly and heavily. The trees above you whisper in the slight wind, and the river babbles, flowing steadily downstream. You try to keep your focus on the path ahead of you, instead of Aki walking beside you. 

"It's just a story," You assert. "Maybe magic was the source of demons a thousand odd years ago, but it hardly matters now." 

Aki's mouth forms the faintest pout, and he glances down at his shoes. "I'm sure it isn't much of a surprise, but I've never actually seen magic." 

"You probably never will," You answer, your voice turning somber, resolute. "People believe magic and mages to be dangerous. As long as they continue to think anyone capable of casting magic is a devil themselves, you won't even hear an utterance of the word." 

"Do you agree with them?" Aki asks flippantly, a brow raised. 

"Huh? What do you mean?" 

"Do you think mages are dangerous?" 

Out of everything he could have said, everything he could have possibly mentioned, why would Aki ask you such a question? 

Right then, you're sure your heart must have defied gravity and reason to drop directly into your throat. You nearly choke. Your spine prickles, unease running rampant through your system. You aren't sure how you manage to come up with any words in the first place, but somehow, you decide to talk without thinking. 

Your shoulders feel tense. "Obviously. Magic could be used to level a city, to mind control a king, to win any war. Or to start one, for that matter." 

Aki hums. For once, his smooth, persistently calm voice grows close to getting on your nerves. "It's difficult. Magic has already done so much harm, but it could do just as much good. When I think of mages, I just see… people. People who want to survive. They aren't monsters or devils." 

You stop in front of him, and he stops with you. Aki's head tilts slightly. As though he knows you want to speak, he's just waiting for it. 

"You know," You're starting, brows pinched, arms crossed, "Those sorts of statements could get you strung up for heresy." 

"Good thing we're far from the city then, right?" 

Nearly, in a hazy mix of confusion and exhaustion and fear and admiration, you almost form a rebuttal. Your arms drop to your sides, and your hands become clenched into fists. Your lips part slightly, to say something your mind hasn't quite decided on yet, just to close at the tightening of your jaw. He's messing with you. He must be. 

Mages aren't people — You aren't like him, you are fundamentally different. Surely, he knows what mages truly are as well as you do. You were born with a spark in your veins and a fire at your fingertips. Humanity, and perhaps the Gods themselves are afraid of you. No-one can stomach you but yourself. Aki is but a man; a foolish, stupid mortal. And you were promised a cage. 

Aki's gaze on yours appears to soften, his arms crossed loosely, his gaze flickering from the conflict on your face to your stiffened posture. Nervously rubbing your arm with your palm, you can't meet his eyes anymore; you can only look away. Your vision chooses to focus elsewhere, on anything but him. Fortunately, just beyond where Aki is standing in front of you, if you squint, you can spot something at the edge of the trees. A leather bag, partially torn open, resting in a patch of grass and tiny flowers. 

"Hey, is that your stuff?" 

Aki's eyes widen, before he turns to look in the direction you've started pointing towards. 

"Well, shit." 

— 

The scene surrounding where Aki's bag lay discarded is true to what he previously described to you. 

As you approach, and as Aki kneels down to gather his things, you glance around the area. You find his sword amongst the grass a foot or so away, steel separated from hilt, the blade tainted with dull blood-stains. The steel is chipped — from gradual wear or from a devil's fangs, you aren't quite sure. His bag is crumpled. A medium-sized hole has been torn into the side, certainly made from a devil's sharp teeth. For now, you slide your pack from your shoulders, and allow him to put his belongings inside. 

There's no gold in his backpack, nor could he find any in the grass surrounding it, of course. There is, however, some rations, a spare tunic, a quill pen, and a notebook — still in his bag, so thankfully, the pages were kept dry from the rain. 

Aki fussed over losing a jar of ink, but you assured him it wouldn't be a problem. It'd be best to head into the woods anyways, to find herbs for him and food for the both of you. Black Dragon flowers are common in this area, and when crushed up, they can be used to make ink. If either of you could find a few blossoms, you'd be glad to make some for him. 

"In return," You said, as Aki rose to his feet, matching your gaze with a curious one, "See if you can find me some wood. A few branches might've fallen during the storm. I need something thick and sturdy. About this," You gesture with your hands — "Big." 

"Ah." He dusts the dirt from his knees with his palms, and hands your pack back to you when you reach out for it. "For firewood?" 

"No, silly. We have plenty. It's for carving." 

Aki smiles, perhaps considering, or perhaps recalling the little sculptures made from wood that are strewn throughout the shelves in your cottage. "Right. Deal." 

With a plan now in mind, you crammed what remained of Aki's bag into your own pack — to use for scrap material — and you ventured through the trees, and into the forest. 

It's much easier to keep your mind from wandering with a task to occupy you. Gathering some mushrooms for eating and finding the flowers you mentioned doesn't take too long. Together, you and Aki head a short ways into the forest, staying careful to keep far from where the devils often make their dens. This area is relatively safe regardless, but it's still good to be on your guard. You let yourself forget about your previous conversations, while you quietly show Aki the difference between the herbs he needs and the fauna he shouldn't touch. 

You don't talk much, only a few words at most, until you're busy gathering the last of what you need. 

Aki comes over, a smooth piece of wood held in his hands. Rested on your knees, you grab the stems of a handful of herbs, and swiftly tug to pull their roots from the ground. You glance up at him as he leans down to hand the wood to you. The canopy of trees is much thicker here. Shadows dance across his face, his arms, his palms and his clothes — still dusted with dirt from searching through undergrowth with you. 

Hardly befitting of royalty, isn't it? Isn't he? 

You smile to yourself, and chase away the thought. 

"Will this do?" Aki asks, turning the piece of wood over, while he runs his fingertips along its rough surface. "It's the best I've found so far." 

"Mhmm, that's perfect. Thank you." You take it from him, and reach for your pack beside you, flipping it open to stuff the wood inside. There's little space left, but eventually, you're able to fit it carefully beside a few small pouches of mushrooms and herbs. 

Aki stands. He hesitates, before he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck with his palm. "This… might be a stupid question. But it's still okay that I'm staying with you, right?" 

"Of course it is- It's fine." You shrug, your focus kept on the foliage. With more carefulness, you gather a few of the thickest leaves. They'll be good for sealing his wound, for guiding it to fully heal. "Why? You want to leave that badly, huh?" 

Aki tucks his hands into his pants pockets. "I don't want to intrude. That's all." 

"I already told you, you're staying until you get better. No protests." Your tone seems to carry a familiar lilt of annoyance, but to his surprise, when you stuff a bundle of herbs into your pack and glance up at him once you're finished, your gaze is warm. You're donning the slightest, softest smile. 

"And just so you know," You mutter, glancing between him and your backpack as you snap it's buckle shut, "Your company isn't unpleasant." 

"Huh." Aki breathes a light-hearted huff. "Is that a compliment?" 

"Partially." 

Glancing away, looking towards the forest, he can't help but mimic your smile — shyly, almost. It's stupidly endearing. You hate how endearing he is. 

"Your company isn't unpleasant either. I mean-" He stammers, "It's nice. I enjoy talking with you. I was thinking, if you'd like, when we get back, I could-" 

Still staring into the trees just beyond you, Aki stops. An abrupt, nerve-wracking pause follows, long enough and silent enough to have your gaze flickering over him. His jaw is set. His eyes are wide, his face is slightly panicked. You swallow, freezing up. Slowly, without moving a muscle, you follow where Aki is looking — just in time to see the bushes a fair distance in front of you rustle. 

The trees sway, whispering dark promises as the wind picks up, a sharp breeze gliding over your bare skin. It's probably nothing. No, it's surely nothing. The chance of a demon- a devil- traveling all the way out to this side of the forest without outside influence is slim. You know this, and yet — 

You're fine. You have to convince yourself, you need to remember that no matter what, you're going to be perfectly fine. If it is a devil, the most important thing is to keep your cool. Level your head and breathe deeply, just as you've learned and practiced, like the books you read have instructed. In, and then out. You need to breathe. 

It's fine. It might not detect you if you're able to stay calm. Perhaps you're panicking for no reason. You're exhausted, you're seeing things. Your weary mind is playing cruel tricks on you. The longer your stare lingers on those thick, rustling bushes and shadow-filled trees, the more your breath sharpens, the stronger your heart begins to thump — Fuck, why can't you just stay calm? 

Stay calm, stay calm. This is stupid, you're acting stupid. There's nothing, there has to be nothing; no danger, no devil waiting to attack and tear the both of you in two. You won't need to defend yourself, you won't have to blow your cover. What if he already knows? With the way he brought up mages earlier, maybe he's going to run and leave you to be ambushed, maybe he planned this, maybe — 

A gentle palm is placed on your shoulder, and you practically jump out of your own skin. 

You whip around to look at the man you nearly forgot was even there; Aki eyes you with concern, never tearing his gaze from you as you scramble to unsteady feet. Standing close beside him, closer than you should be, you're focused on the forest again. Stress is present in your features, while an obvious shake lingers in your limbs. 

"Aki-" You mumble, speaking on the edge of an anxiety-ridden whisper, "We need- Shouldn't we-" 

"We're fine," Aki answers calmly, quietly. He reaches for your hand, and he grabs it softly. His palm brushes your knuckles. His fingers caress your skin as he squeezes faintly, and your heart pounds so hard it displaces your ribs. "Look." 

He points, and you allow your hazy vision to come back into focus. Through the trees, approaching cautiously while hopping among the shadows, you spot the thin legs, patterned coat, and small horns of a baby Great Elk. 

Aki hums, "I've never seen a baby one before." He murmurs low enough for only you to hear, in pleasant disbelief. "They never get this close. Sorry, are you-" 

Suddenly, as he is turning towards you, you're pushing away, and yanking your hand away from his. 

"I'm fine," You answer, taking a few steps back. At the sound of your voice, no longer hushed, the baby elk runs, scampering back into the trees. Aki watches uselessly as you retrieve your backpack and sling it over your shoulders. "Let's just go."

Your voice is unsteady. Your gaze is focused on your shoes. You clutch the front of your cape, the space closest to your heart, and you press one hand to the back of the other. Idly, your palm runs over the shape of your own knuckles, as your teeth nervously find your bottom lip. 

You understand what it feels like to let fire dance in your palms, to have spell-spawned sparks flickering underneath your skin. This is far worse. The hand Aki touched feels as though it's burning. 

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, "For a second, I really thought it was-" 

"I said, let's go." 

You're already turning, walking in a direction he'd never recall if you left him to be lost out here, and so Aki has no choice but to follow. 

He sighs defeatedly. "Okay. That's alright. We can go." 

As you and Aki walk back to your cottage, you make your way there with the most distance that's ever been between you. 

— 

"Hold still." 

"Shit- Sorry. I'm trying." 

Aki flinches as you carefully press a cool, damp cloth to his side. Squinting, using the dim light from the fireplace and the flickering candles to illuminate your task, you focus on cleaning what remains of his wound. 

These past few days, although still a bit sore, it hasn't been bleeding much. What was once a large, gnarled gash has healed into a faint, red scrape. It probably won't leave much of a scar after all. He has your medicine to thank for his quick recovery. You weren't sure how the wound might fare after he spent the day traveling through the forest with you, but aside from a hint of discomfort, he seems relatively healthy. Still energized, even. After setting the rag aside, you grab a handful of fresh bandages, which you made from the scraps of his old, stained tunic. 

"It's healed well," You comment plainly. You and Aki are sitting on the wooden floor, cross-legged, close to the fireplace. Close in proximity. The persistent heat of the fire flutters across your arms and your back, chasing away the cool night air. 

Reaching into a wooden bowl, you use two fingers to smear a thick herbal mixture onto the inside of the bandages. Then, you swiftly begin to wrap them around his bare torso, taking note of the way his muscles flex. 

You breathe a low, inquisitive hum. "Still seems tender, though." 

"It is. A bit." Aki supports his weight with his palms, leaning back to give you more room. Firelight curves over his chest, his shoulders, his collarbones. "But I'm doing alright, thanks to you. I'm sure I'll be fully healed soon." 

And soon, he'll be leaving. 

You try not to think about it as you focus on the precise movements of your hands. There's far too many stressful things you still need to mull over, and now isn't the time. 

Wrapping his bandages is a careful, but quick process; at this point, you're used to it. Aki keeps as motionless as he can manage while you tie the bandages off to keep them in place. You collect the wooden bowl in one hand, before promptly rising to your feet. He watches you snatch his spare tunic from where it hangs over the edge of his cot. He catches it once you toss it at him. 

"I'm going to make dinner," You remark, "Stew probably, same as last time." Already, you're turning on your heels, heading into the kitchen. You set the wooden bowl aside, and Aki scrambles to pull his shirt over his head. 

"Wait-"

He's rushing to come stand beside you, still straightening his tunic and fitting his arms through the sleeves, while you're plopping your backpack onto the counter. Aki reaches back, fixing his hair and pulling it from beneath his neckline. Busy focusing on opening your backpack, you give him a raised brow, a perplexed side-glance. 

"Let's make it together," Aki says — and with how ridiculous his preposition sounds, with how unheard of it is to you, you can't help but laugh. 

"That isn't necessary." You shrug, and turn back to your bag. You root around inside for a moment, before you find a small leather pouch, containing several bonnet-shaped mushrooms. 

"I know," Aki replies; he's already reaching into your cupboards, wasting no time finding a couple of bowls and a cutting board. His mind has been made, apparently. "I want to make it with you, though. Can you teach me?" 

Your eyes narrow. Your hands are shuddery as you pull the pouch open, briefly counting the mushrooms inside. Inevitably, you breathe a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping from the weight of it. Aki sets the cutting board down, his gaze flickering over you, and you dump the mushrooms out onto the counter in front of him. 

"Chop these up into small pieces. Knives are in the drawer to your right." 

He doesn't need to be told twice. 

Silence falls upon the kitchen as you and Aki prepare dinner together, side by side. His knife — your knife — echoes rhythmically against the wooden cutting board as he carefully chops mushroom after mushroom. You grind herbs to use for seasoning with a mortar and pestle. The fireplace crackles, and your foot taps against the floor just slightly. Too slight for him to hear, and not enough to calm your nerves. 

Any slight lull makes you think too much. About devils, about the kingdom. About him, and what you're going to do once he's gone. At the very least, this silence is much more comfortable, compared to the prickling stillness that befell the both of you on the way back to your cottage. You're grateful you haven't yet ruined things. 

Since then, you've barely managed to regain the faintest sliver of your composure. Your heart isn't pounding anymore, thankfully, despite how close the two of you need to stand to work together in the kitchen. You designed your space for one, not for two. The stove is in the middle of the counter, and in order to reach to dump ingredients into a pot, you need to lean so close to him your arms nearly touch. 

Instead, your heart aches, twisting and pulling at your chest, sending blood rushing to your fragile hands and making them shake each time you remember the way Aki touched you. He grabbed your right hand. It still feels warm, in a way. Haunted by a touch softer than a flower's thin petals. Your mind swims, your grip on the pestle faltering slightly. 

Gods, you're ridiculous. A more composed version of yourself would surely be scolding you right now. 

First, you let a man you hardly know into your cottage, a man who happened to be royalty, of all things. Then, you panic over nothing, getting all freaked out over a harmless baby elk. Now, you're allowing yourself to nearly lose your damned mind over such a small, inconsequential, useless touch. Over Aki's touch. 

Aki, who's life exists in a universe far removed from your own. Who is going to leave, who has a few days left before he will have to forget about you. You really, seriously need to get a grip. 

"I'm sorry," You mutter, breaking the silence, your voice barely loud enough to be heard. Aki stops though, glancing in your direction, making it clear that he did notice. "Normally I wouldn't get scared like that. You know, when we were in the forest. I just- I'm stressed, that's all. Or tense, I guess. And exhausted." 

"I knew you were still thinking about what happened earlier," Aki concludes, reading you correctly. He scoops a handful of chopped mushrooms into his palms, and places them into the already-boiling pot on the stove. "There's no need to apologize. I must have startled you. I was… scared too, for a moment." 

Aki's knife swiftly hits the cutting board as he cuts the rest of the mushrooms, and you prop your head on your palm, your fingers drumming against the counter. 

He's only partially paying attention to the task at hand. His eyes continuously and not-so-subtly keep drifting away from the cutting board, and back to you. You really wish he wouldn't. Your heart is already beginning to skip again; you don't need it running and tripping over itself while you're trying to thinly cut up some parsley. 

"You're going to chop your finger off." 

Aki stops at your words. Your gaze is focused on your bundle of parsley and scissors, but he still looks towards you anyways, breathing a slight, playful laugh. He elegantly twirls his knife in a circle before returning it to the cutting board — only this time, he makes sure to watch what he's doing. 

"I cooked for my family a few times when I was a kid," He starts, chopping a mushroom carefully and slowly. "That was ages ago, though. I think I forgot everything I once learned." 

You still remember your mother's cooking lessons like she taught them to you yesterday. Keep your knives sharp. Watch the stove, try not to use too much firewood. You can add, but you can never subtract. Were those moments the last time you shared the kitchen with someone else? 

It's a bit difficult to get used to. You keep expecting to have more work, you still feel surprised when you turn to see someone standing next to you. But it feels calming. A crisp, fluttering feeling you can't quite put your finger on — not that you want to, you'd rather not face it. You've decided it's nice to make dinner with him, simply sharing your space, even though you aren't doing anything too special. For the first time in what might be forever, you aren't alone. 

Perhaps you should be savoring this. 

"I did too," You reply, pausing the movement of your scissors for a moment. "But when I was a kid, I hated cooking. I cut my hand once, the first time I tried to peel potatoes. My mom bandaged me up. From there on out, I would cry every time she asked me to cook with her." 

Aki breathes a slight hmm, and he reasons, "You were scared of getting hurt again." 

"I suppose so." 

"Did you ever end up cooking with her?" 

"No. I remember some of what she tried to teach me, but… I mostly taught myself," You answer, briefly hesitating. "This is the first time I've tried to cook with someone else since then, I think. I like it. I like your company." 

Too honest, perhaps. Your mother might have told you to keep on your toes in this situation, to avoid giving away too much information. But your heart is already beating fast, and the words have already left you before you've thought about them. 

Aki glances at you, your gaze staying focused on your hands, on your work. You seem lost in thought. He finds it difficult to read the blank expression on your face. 

"I understand. I think I get how you feel, honestly." His voice is smooth, calm. Drifting through you, until it sparks within your chest like a brand new star. "My mother never got the chance to teach me much. She was busy working, or busy tending to my younger brother." 

"Your mom," You answer quietly, "Do you miss her?" 

"Yeah. And you?" 

Your jaw tenses, your teeth uncomfortably grinding together. You place the parsley into the pot, and dust your palms over the counter. "Of course. You always miss the family you've lost." 

He's long since finished chopping up the remainder of mushrooms, but Aki's grip tightens on the knife, and he idly taps the tip of the blade against the firm cutting board. He hums a slight mhmm in agreement. 

"My mother always said cooking was one of the most important skills one could learn," Aki continues. "I thought she'd have more time to teach me. She would tell me, 'You need to be prepared if you go off on your own, you won't always like what other people make for you.' Something like that. I'm not sure I believed her, at first." 

"Uh-huh," You raise a brow. "And then you were forced to eat river snails." 

Oh. Realizing your change in tone only after the fact, you look at him immediately, your nerves prickling, your skin heating up with embarrassment. Truthfully, you haven't had much practice with conversations; Aki is the first. You've said more to him in the past few days than you think you ever have. 

Perhaps you should've thought more before you spoke. It's one thing to say something you might regret, it's another to raise tensions with him. He was serious, and you just made some stupid joke that sounded flat enough to be a rude comment — 

But Aki smirks, he laughs wholeheartedly; the sound rings through you, tender and burning. You feel a reassuring wave travel all the way down your spine. 

"Okay, I think I would've had to try those regardless," He hums, exhaling another amused huff of breath. He drops the rest of the mushrooms into the stove pot, and with nothing else to do but wait for the stew to be ready, he swiftly reaches for a rag, and begins wiping down the cutting board. 

"They were supposed to make you heal faster, or not get sick- or something, I'm not sure," He continues, "They never actually did anything. Trust me, if I was cooking for myself, I wouldn't have opted to include those." 

"At least you tried them," You reply, shrugging. "Now you've got a good story to tell. Besides, there's plenty of things that might look awful even though they taste pretty good." 

"Truffles," Aki says through a groan, "Gods, how I refused to eat those. It drove my parents up a wall." 

"What's that?" 

Propping your head up with your arm once more, you glance at him, diligently looking at him up and down, giving him all of your attention. Aki smiles, and he sets down what he's holding to turn towards you fully. Matching your gaze, he rests his elbow on the edge of the counter. 

"They're these shitty little black mushrooms," He says straightforwardly, and you can't help but chuckle. "Apparently, they're hard to find, so… my parents would be furious with me for wasting them. My dad, he was the one who taught us to be frugal. He made me try this chocolate. Super fancy, expensive chocolate. It was similar to the mushrooms, and my dad decided to tell me they were the same. He said, 'You know those are truffles, the mushrooms you hate, right?'"

Aki lets go of a small, breathy laugh, and he glances away as he recalls the rest of his story. "It wasn't. They're only called the same thing, but they're completely different- the chocolate, and the mushrooms. He got me to try some the next time we had them, though." 

"Hm," You reply, "Did you like them?"

"Nope. I didn't finish my first bite, I spat it out." 

Smirking, your gaze meets his own expectantly. "Your dad was probably mad, then." 

"Definitely. But I was expecting chocolate. Those mushrooms are good, but you're supposed to savor them. They are the complete opposite of sweet." 

"What's chocolate?" Your eyes squint as you think, trying to remember if the name is something you've heard before. In a book, maybe. It certainly sounds familiar. "Is that a mushroom too?" 

Aki stares at you, surprised. "You've never had chocolate?" 

"Nope." 

"It's- damn." His hand comes to hold his chin, his brows pinch with faint frustration. "It's sort of difficult to describe. It's sweet. It melts in your mouth, if that makes sense. There's a lot of vendors who sell chocolate in the kingdom. When we get there, I'll buy you some." 

Suddenly, as he seems to catch himself, Aki clears his throat. He stutters and glances away, "Er- if you wanted to go with me, that is. There's no need to make any decisions right now. It was just a suggestion." 

The room grows silent. Aki's gaze flickers to check on the stove, before traveling back to you. To your eyes, to your mouth. When your gazes meet again, you find it impossible to look away, despite how much your quivering heart desperately begs you to. 

Finally, you look down at your hands, and mumble hesitantly, "You'll be leaving soon." You press your thumbs together, nervously fiddling. "Right?" 

"That depends," Aki answers, "When do you think I'll be healed enough?" 

"Soon. Probably within the next few days, at the earliest. Your wound looks fine. You should keep resting, once you're feeling energized and no longer sore, then…" 

You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. Aki doesn't fail to notice how you're no longer looking at him, your voice becoming uncertain and much quieter. 

Aki takes a deep, long breath, and he speaks calmly, gently. "Whenever you tell me you're ready, I'll leave. There's no pressure to come with me, and I won't force you to make a decision. I don't have any problems with leaving alone. I'll be alright, you won't have to worry about me. Please, don't forget that." 

It should be fine, to let him leave alone. You'll follow your original plan. The next time he's asleep, you'll prepare the potion to alter his memory; you could have it done by tonight, easily. If he follows your directions, he shouldn't have a problem with making his way out of the forest safely. As foolish as he is, Aki is resourceful. He wouldn't let himself get caught out again. This is what should happen, to keep the both of you safe, and apart. 

So why do you feel so hurt? 

For longer than necessary, you're silent. In the corner of your vision, you catch the way Aki peers at you worriedly. 

"Are you alright?" He asks, his words taking you a bit off guard. 

Reflexively, you nod — but oh, how he is making this so much harder. You're fine, you were fine, until you heard his soft voice check up on you. Now, you feel like a dam on the edge of bursting. He noticed, of course he would notice. You're standing close enough for him to see your little tremors, for him to hear when your breath starts to hitch. You had made up your mind about your future long before you met him, but Aki had to go and change it all. 

Perhaps you hadn't realized how much it truly hurt until he'd spoken. Those are words you haven't heard before, you've never felt a sensation so suffocating. Your throat is dry, your heart is encased in thorns — but you're alright. You have to be. You have to tell him you're fine. 

"I'm alright," You answer quickly with a swallow, leaving it at that. 

"You sure? Your hands-" Aki murmurs, his gaze flickering down to them, and then back up. "You were doing that earlier." 

Ah. You were, and you are. Both of your hands have moved to timidly clutch the front of your cape, your thumb running over the grooves on the shiny front button. 

Sighing, you forcibly let your arms fall. You still can't look at him, so instead, you keep your focus on the dirty ends of your shoes. "I promise, I'm fine." 

You're sure you don't sound very convincing. 

The pot on the stove bubbles, the stove top's low, orange flame flickering faintly. Aki stays silent, considering his next words carefully. 

"You still don't trust me," He decides, his voice quiet and assured. It's a statement more than anything; he knows you do not trust him. He knows it's a fact he cannot change. "But if there's anything- something I did, or something you want to tell me, you can. I'll listen." 

As if you could ever tell him. 

It'd be foolish to let him see this different side to you, regardless of how much you already trust him — more than he realizes, clearly. More than logic and everything you've learned should dictate. Unfortunately, you can no longer keep your thoughts quiet. You've got a battle raging within you, and those aching waves of stress are pulling, pushing, and growing closer and closer to drowning you underneath. 

Aki can't stay. You shouldn't even entertain the thought; what the hell are you thinking? Aki is a stranger, he's dangerous. If he truly is royalty, you could be punished for ever thinking you were allowed to look at him, let alone speak to him. 

The kingdom isn't as far as you'd prefer it to be. His wound is healing. You are helping him get back on his feet. You're guiding him closer to leaving, little by little. 

Deep in your foolish, pounding heart, you want to believe Aki would trust you as much as you want to trust him, regardless of your best-kept secret. Yet, if anyone questioned him upon his return, if he was at all seen as suspicious, they could find out about you. His intentions wouldn't matter then. Protecting you or even himself wouldn't be an option. There's only so much he can do to bend the rules around witches. Royalty or otherwise. 

You hate this. You hate that Aki could discover the truth at any moment. He could look at you differently, with less kindness and more revulsion, once he realizes he's supposed to hate you. He is fucking supposed to, to hell with thinking mages are people, those words can't be trusted, he isn't meant to be trusted. With how distracted you've been, he could kill you, if he truly wanted to. But would he? 

The pit of your stomach swirls with a shadowy sense of dread and anxiety. You hate how you've become closer to him, you hate yourself for letting your guard down, even though you swore you wouldn't. Above all else, you hate how these sharp, never-ending feelings are becoming far too much. 

It hurts. There's a hundred thoughts gnawing at your mind, a thousand rapid beats of your heart to keep track of, and a million pins and needles under your skin, running up along your spine with a painful, oppressive intensity. 

You're worried. You're scared, scared of what will happen, scared of him, and everything. Scared of losing him, as awful as it sounds. Your cottage would become so lonely. You would fall into suffocating silence once more. Aki is different from the men you met before, from the people you've learned to fear. He is someone worth keeping. 

Each sensation — the stress, the longing — pushes at either side of you like two stone walls closing in. Closing and crushing and swallowing you; your hands are trembling, and Gods, you're exhausted. When was the last time you slept properly? Was your mind ever working as it should be to begin with? 

And why can you never seem to stop thinking about what it felt like to have your hand in his? 

In the end, it doesn't matter. 

None of it matters, your attempts to hang onto yourself and your wavering composure are rendered useless. He blends out of your focus as the world grows blurry around you. You grip the front of your cape tighter, your shoulders tensing before they tremor. Your breath is short, your throat feels tight, and your thoughts are fatigued like a string pulled taut. Fragile tears are beginning to fall down your cheeks, and you can do nothing to stop them. 

Aki freezes up completely, eyes wide, gaze locked on you. 

"Sorry," You're babbling, shaking your head, willing the tears to stop — although you know they most certainly won't. Your chest aches, your throat hurts. Small droplets fall from your face to hit your fingers and knuckles. You're so stupid, so weak. "I just- I don't want to-" 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Aki shifts closer. He's slow when he reaches out to you, giving you plenty of time to move away if you'd prefer to. You don't. Glancing down at you, his warm palm finds your cheek, his touch slight and delicate, as though he's still expecting you to flinch away. Carefully, his thumb swipes underneath your eye to catch a tear before it falls. His touch caresses you softly, far too softly. And finally, you break. 

He could hurt you, he could destroy you if he knew what you truly were. Instead, the fear all melts away, because he chooses to be gentle. 

Your shaking hands hold onto your cape as tight as you can manage, while your tears turn into hard sobs that shake your entire figure, and make his heart want to splinter and shatter. Aki mumbles something low under his breath, words you barely catch despite how close you both are: an earnest mixture of shh, and it's okay. 

In this moment, you have never been weaker. Not since the day you first left the kingdom behind you, and began to cry, when you believed you were meant to be alone. It's been years of isolation, since then. Is it so wrong for you to know you have needed this? 

For once, leaning into his touch feels right; it doesn't burn, it isn't nerve-wracking. It's everything you've ever needed — it is so much more as you press your hand to the back of his, keeping him in place so he won't pull away. You focus on the warmth of his touch, tenderness surging all around you, your heart pounding to a fierce, unsteady rhythm. 

It could be wrong, it could be reckless, to believe this is the safest you've ever felt. To know that if you were to pull him close like you've been wanting, you might not be able to let go. You want to embrace him, to have someone hold you, after ages and ages of feeling nothing against your skin and at your back but the whispering wind. 

Aki's arms around you would be far too overwhelming — to have him hold you tight while you breathe in the scent of firewood on his clothes, and listen to each beat of his heart, your head pressed to his chest. No, you wouldn't let go, not until you've memorized the sound. The thought alone could bring you to tears, if you weren't already breaking down in front of him, sniffling and holding onto your cape with a grip tight enough to make your fingers ache. 

"I scared you earlier, didn't I?" Aki says, his voice low, as calming as it always is. His breathing is slow, and yours tries to calm down to match. "I'm sorry." 

Maybe he did, but you've already forgiven him. Aki can't know the true reason why you're crying, or any of the multitude of built-up reasons. They'd be impossible to say, far too difficult to talk about. You can't tell him you might miss him if he leaves you behind, even though it's what you planned to let happen in the first place. Even though someone like you has no right to want to follow someone like him. To the kingdom, no less. You'd be shunned. Imprisoned. Or much, much worse. 

Aki is kind and thoughtful, his presence alone makes you want more — your tides pulled in his direction, an ocean of uncertainty reaching up to a bright, brilliant, unreachable moon. His touch is warm light, shining through thick darkness. Your darkness, illuminated wholeheartedly. 

"You're safe," He murmurs. His voice barely registers. "I wouldn't let anything hurt you." 

He couldn't, he has no idea you're a terrible, filthy liar. Aki is a good man. He reminds you of those knights in your stories — unwaveringly good, no matter the danger they're presented with. And you? You are nothing more than a witch. 

Thankfully, Aki doesn't need to know. 

He doesn't have questions, he simply continues to brush his thumb over your cheek, tenderly and rhythmically. His touch is slight, overly gentle in an attempt to keep you comfortable, but it's more than enough to gradually help you relax. You can't recall the last time you cried like this. Nor the last time you let anyone touch you, you never planned to allow this. You can't become overtaken by emotion, holding your focus is much more important. Perhaps you needed a way to finally let go of your budding stress. 

Aki seems to think so. He holds your face in his palm as you cry, never pulling away, grounding you with his presence. Ever-so patient, he stays, while you fully succumb to everything washing over you. Until the waves slowly subside, allowing you to breathe again. Your sobs begin to calm, your tears start to dry up. Your whole body tremors as you breathe a long, shaky sigh. 

Still, he keeps his pretty palm on your cheek. It belongs there, you think. 

"How are you feeling?" Aki says softly, after a few beats of silence. "Mad? Upset?" 

At first, you don't answer. You try, although you know it's futile; your mouth opens, but your voice is weak, your throat is sore. No words come out. You're feeling a thousand things, even if you could voice them, you aren't sure where you'd start. You swallow, and to your disappointment, Aki takes his palm away from your cheek, abruptly reaching for something. 

In a rush, he hurries to turn off the stove, swearing quietly under his breath. You hadn't realized how much time had passed — how long have you been crying? Long enough to make your nose stuffed and your throat sore, and enough to let the stew boil over, evidently. 

Aki leaves it, for now. He reaches over you to grab your backpack, briefly putting your bodies unbelievably close. He roots around inside until he finds your flask, still half-full with fresh water, and he sets it on the counter, allowing you to move at your own pace. You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand first, before you grab it, unscrewing the cap, taking a few sips. 

You want to tell him. You want to feel his soft touch again, you want his words of reassurance, and his trust, and his kindness. How could you fear him, when Aki is tenderness incarnate? As soft as the sky, as earnest as an echo. And as necessary as it is, you're already sick of lying; you don't want to hear his voice, look him in the eyes, and know you are lying to him. 

Though, you can't say a thing. Your voice is weak, your body and mind are exhausted. And so, this time, you resist. 

Aki breaks the silence first. "You're allowed to be mad at me. I wouldn't blame you if you were." 

"I'm not mad," You answer, screwing the cap back on the flask, setting it down on the counter right where it was. You aren't meeting his eyes, but your voice sounds clearer, less strained. "I'm okay. Just tired." 

Your shoulders shrug weakly. Aki's next breath seems to shake, his arms crossing around his chest frustratedly, his gaze traveling down. 

"I shouldn't-" His jaw clenches, before he lets go of an exasperated sigh. "A devil wouldn't have snuck up on us like that. We would've known- they aren't small, and they make much more noise when they're approaching. I shouldn't have worried you. If you think I should… head for the kingdom, I will. I could leave tonight." 

Your throat feels dry again. "It's fine." 

"No," Aki counters, his voice wavering; it never wavers, "This is my fault. To see you hurting so much, when I know that I- maybe I just-" 

"Aki." 

You glance up at him, and your abrupt utterance of his name forces him to meet your gaze. Your eyes are still red, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, your cheeks damp from tears. Your expression is earnest, hiding a thousand emotions he couldn't begin to make sense of. But he wants to try. 

"Don't go," You murmur, softer this time. Close to breaking once more. "I've already forgiven you. Thank you. For being here." 

For showing you a kindness you aren't used to, for comforting you without asking questions. For finally making you realize that you aren't meant to be alone. You want to say his name a thousand times more. 

Honestly, you aren't sure what Aki takes away from your words. He seems to hesitate, but after a moment of thought, he reaches for the bowls he'd grabbed for the two of you earlier. One for you, and one for him. 

"You should get some sleep after we eat," He suggests, his tone nice and gentle, laced with concern. He places your bowl in front of you, on your side of the counter. 

"Mhmm…" You nod in agreement, and search through a drawer on your left to find a wooden ladle. "My head hurts." 

Completely serious, Aki replies, "Do you want me to stop talking?" 

Genuine and soft, you break into a laugh — a sound he is more than glad to hear — and you smile to yourself, while you pour some stew into your bowl. It warms your palms, steam brushing against your face. When you pass the ladle to him, he's instantly caught on the faint sparkle in your gaze. Hook, line, and sinker. 

"Absolutely not." You hum playfully, an eyebrow crooked. "It would be far too quiet. Besides, I like your voice." 

Aki fills his own bowl, and with the warm, pleased look that encompasses his features, you swear he almost seems flustered. "I hope you aren't implying I talk too much." 

"Nope. If anything, it's not enough." 

You reach into a drawer to grab silverware, and Aki heads over to the dinner table. He's already sat down across from your usual seat, and once you're able to follow, you notice your chair has been pulled out for you. 

Your conversations lull as the two of you eat together, once again enjoying the simple comfort of company. The warm stew soothes your throat. It has your body and your limbs relaxing, calming. You exchange a few words. Aki compliments your cooking, and you politely thank him for his help. You comment how you rarely see baby elk, they're normally so skittish. It was cute. It would be nice to see again, under different circumstances. 

Everything returns to normality. The same way it always was, when words shared between him and yourself become as natural as breathing. Once again, it feels right. 

The next time you speak, it's after you've stood and both rinsed your bowls, just before you're about to head into your bedroom. 

Aki clears his throat. He sits on the edge of his cot, his hands placed uniformly in his lap, the fireplace's low flame flickering over the sharp angles of his face. 

"Do you really want me to stay?" He asks, as he already has. Perhaps he's expecting the answer to change. 

You consider, drumming your fingertips over your bedroom's door handle. Then, at last, you answer. "Is it so wrong if I do?" 

"It isn't. I was thinking, actually, I… I don't think it's a good idea for me to leave," He says, glancing at you. "My wound is- it could reopen. It'd be better not to take any risks, to rest for another week or so. Or maybe two weeks. Or- I don't know. We'll see." His next words are entirely unsure, a shot in the dark, a question and a plea wrapped into one: "What do you think?" 

As one would expect, he'd leave it all up to you. 

Your hand grips the door knob tighter. You take a slow, gradual breath, and hope he doesn't notice your newfound reassurance. 

He isn't leaving. Not yet. Thank the Gods. 

"Of course," You murmur, without turning to look at him. He'd see the small smile on your face if you did. "You can stay." 

[pennyblossom-meta]

Gale/Karlach banter

Similar to my previous post: Gale/Wyll banter.

Warning: VERY long post.

Because the dialogue lines are so many, I won't add screenshots in some sections.

I'll add more items from Gale's side either here on a separate post.

Update: added some more dialogue lines

Act 01

Gale intervenes on Karlach's behalf (currently impossible to trigger)

Gale: Easy, Wyll. She's no devil. There's no fight to be had here.

Recruiting Gale

Karlach: Well done getting the wizard on board. He can zap from afar while I smack up close. But if he tries to get me to read any tomes, I will scream. devnote: Context, Karlach does not like to read

Recruiting Karlach

Gale: An ally fresh from the Hells themselves. Our company grows stranger by the minute - and all the better for it.

If Wyll is the avatar

Gale: Hunting one devil, allying yourself with another. Our journey gets more curious by the second.

First night at camp

Karlach: Gale's pretty lost in his thoughts, isn't he. Poor guy. Roughing it like this can't be his style. devnote: Genuine empathy

—

Taking a walk through the forest

Gale: Nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit. devnote: Brisk, invigorated Karlach: I was just thinking the same thing, but less poetically. devnote: dreamily Gale: And without so much as a stirring from our tadpoles. Karlach: A girl could get used to this. devnote: relieved and happy

—

Blighted Village

Karlach: Looks like this town was ransacked - by soldiers, if my eyes don't deceive me. Gale: Quite cruelly, too. Karlach: Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here. Gale: If nothing else, I hope it was a mercifully short one.

—

At the Grymforge

Gale: The architects who built this must have been remarkable. A pity their vision didn't stand the test of time. devnote: Observing, not sure what to make of it Karlach: All's not lost. I mean, just look at this place. devnote: Impressed with what she sees Gale: You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you? Karlach: Hope keeps you going.

—

Underdark

Karlach: Just when I was getting used to the sky again... Gale: Fear not, Karlach. Sun, moon and stars will still be there waiting for us. devnote: Reassuring Karlach: Meanwhile, this place is pretty spectacular, isn't it? Gale: No book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice. But perhaps our stories might, when we return to the surface. devnote: Agreeing with Karlach, enjoying the sense of wonder as you explore

—

Act 02

Plains, near the Temple of Lathlander (or is this in Act 01?)

Gale: I don't suppose you've any clue where we are in relation to Waterdeep? Karlach: From this distance between Elturel and Baldur's Gate, I'd say... a long way away. devnote: dreamily Gale: Ah. That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky. Gale: No matter - what she doesn't know can't hurt her. Not at this distance, anyway. devnote: Black humour/finding the bright side

—

Mountain Pass

Karlach: Man, adventuring is thirsty work. Gale: There used to be a monastery in this region known for producing a wonderful ale. Karlach: That sounds like heaven! Wait. Used to? Gale: Oh, yes - long ruined, I'm afraid. No chance of a frothing pitcher awaiting us there, but still - at least your thirst for knowledge is quenched. Karlach: Ugh. devnote: Groaning at Gale's cringe joke

—

On the road to the Shadow Cursed lands

Gale: Do you feel that? A darkness, pulling at the strands of the Weave. devnote: Alert, sensing something Karlach: You'll still be able to do your wizard thing, though, right? Gale: Of course, but that doesn't make the shadows less dangerous. devnote: Reassuring Karlach, whiloe remaning concerned about the wider dangers Karlach: Joy. devnote: sarcasm

—

Shadow Cursed lands

Karlach: Doing all right, Gale? Gale: Oh, you know... Still alive and kicking, despite being surrounded on all sides by an endless manifestation of darkness and decay... devnote: Almost with a sigh - that's just how things are. Grim humour to it Karlach: I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

—

Last Light Inn, Shrine to Selûne

Gale: A hidden shrine, dedicated to the Moon Maiden herself. Even amidst this darkness, Selunites are stubborn enough to cling on. Karlach: Pretty beautiful, isn't it?

—

Tollhouse

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe. devnote: Confident

—

Brewery

Karlach: Huh. A brewery. Why does Reithwin Ale ring a bell? Gale: It was known to be quite the tipple - a cask or two still exists, if you know the right alekeep... devnote: Enjoying being the expert on this. He definitely knows 'the right alekeep' Karlach: You must have good taste. Not me. Can't afford it. Gale: A common misconception. Even the simplest of flavours are elevated by the choice to appreciate them. Don't deny yourself such pleasures. devnote: Kind/encouraging

—

Moonrise approach

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. devnote: Facing an obstancle with cheery determination Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

—

Moonrise Docks

Karlach: We're not taking a boat to Baldur's Gate, right? Gale: And give the Absolute free reign to use us as target practice from the banks? I think not. devnote: Yeahhh… no. Karlach: Phew. My mum always said the Chionthar was unlucky.

—

At the mind flayer colony, under Moonrise Towers

Gale: It strikes me that, for a mind flayer colony, there are remarkably few mind flayers about the place... devnote: Observing, not sure what to make of it Karlach: Squiddies have gone to war, is my guess. Gale: On the Absolute's behalf? Now there's an alliance I'd have been quite happy without.

Act 03

Blushing Mermaid

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who? Gale: She who thirsts buys drinks the first. devnote: Like it's a well-known saying (first half) Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! devnote: Jockeying with Gale Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines. devnote: Like it's a well-known saying (second half)

—

Counting House

Gale: They say wealth offers a form of magic. Alas, it's one I've rarely dabbled in. Karlach: Nor I. Never had more than a few coppers in the city, and any soul coins in Avernus went straight to Zariel. Gale: Make no mistake. Souls are sold for coins up here as well. All too cheaply, in most cases.

—

Sorcerous Sundries

Gale: Look around you. Indulge your curiosity. Sorcerous Sundries is the finest purveyor of magical miscellany for miles around. devnote: Showing his friends around, trying to sound impressive Karlach: Where's the axes? devnote: looking for battle-axes to the dismay of bookworm Gale Gale: What they sell is far more precious than mere sword or shield. They sell knowledge, ingenuity, the wisdom of mages past. devnote: Showing his friends around, trying to sound impressive Karlach: Sounds like more your thing than mine.

Romance

Breakups and relationship status

Karlach's side

Player breaks up with Karlach over Gale

Karlach: Fuck off if you're here to talk about Gale. I already know. devnote: Wounded/ sadPlayer was partnered with Karlach, but ended up choosing Gale. Karlach found out on her own and is now reacting. This shouldn't be a mega aggro 'fuck off,' more like a 'go away'. Karlach: Couldn't tell me to my face, huh? Had to wait 'til I just... just figured it out. devnote: sad/bitter

Karlach: Whoa. What? You... want to be with Gale...? devnote: Copping on that the player is here to breakup with her Karlach: Since when?! devnote: angry and hurt

Karlach: I should've known Gale would weave his spell on you. Who could resist? devnote: Bittersweet. Player is dumping her for Gale. She's sad but still on good terms and trying to keep things light. Karlach: I know I had... well. You know I liked you. Like you. But I want you to be with someone who can make you happy. If that's Gale, that's Gale. devnote: Heartbroken but mature. (...) Karlach: Hope you don't regret throwing over all this fire for all that hot air. One'll get you through winter, the other'll recite you a lot of codices. But hey. To each their own. devnote: Heavy on the subtext. She's putting a lighthearted/ sarcastic spin on the fact that the player just friendzoned her for gale.

Karlach: When Gale's on page one hundred thirty six of a supremely boring recitation, and you look over and there I am throwing a lasso around a giant centipede and riding it to Chult, I'll have my comeuppance. devnote: Still keeping it a bit light/teasing

Karlach: Gale climbed out of the Weave long enough to waggle his eyebrow in your direction, huh? devnote: Still a little light. She does like Gale, despite his high-falutin-ness, so she doesn't mean this to hurt him.

Player chooses Karlach over Gale

Karlach: I thought you and Gale were... I don't know. Karlach: Gale will be all right, right? Of course he will. He's Gale. If he can take a hit from Mystra, he can take it from you.

Gale is the player and is in a relationship with Karlach

Player: My future's no more certain than your own. But when I dare to imagine having one, it's always you I see beside me. Karlach: I'm seeing you at a desk. Pile of books up to the ceiling. And me barging in with a brace of rabbits for supper. Karlach: You start chopping carrots. I stoke the fire. And every night is the best night we've ever had.

Date with Karlach, Gale is the player character

Karlach: You know, it does. There's always a bit of a veil about you - I guess it's the magic, but there's something else, too. Something I want to discover first-hand.

Q: Tell me a secret

Player: I once claimed to have read all six volumes of 'Lichen and Its Curative Properties' to impress a comely botanist. Alas, a falsehood. Karlach: You mean you haven't read all six volumes?! Gale Dekarios, I'll never look at you the same. devnote: Teasing

Player: I'm afraid I'm doomed to repeat past mistakes, no matter how I try to avoid them. Karlach: I know what you mean. Changing is hard. Every time I think I've figured it out, boom, there I am again, behaving like some version of me that never learned a damn thing.

—

Gale's side

Gale: And what of Karlach? Her heart can surely break, though it burns.

Breaking up with Gale for Karlach

Gale: Karlach, yes? You burn for each other in more ways than one. Gale: I... I thought you would show me the respect of telling me first, but no matter. You can tell me now - who is it to be? Me, or her? Player: I'm sorry, Gale. I want to be with Karlach. Gale: Don't be - she has a good heart. Poor phrasing - she has a terrible heart. But she's surprisingly caring, considering it.

At the tiefling party

Gale: You might be in for an adventure with Karlach. More than you bargained for - with a bit of luck. Gale: Or perhaps more than you bargained for - full stop.

Talking about Tara

Gale: You remind me of her somewhat. You share her fierceness, and her passion.

Be my God, boat scene

Gale: I'll always have you, Karlach.

Act 01

Gale had first stage of romance/attraction with player - not yet anything official. Gale: Karlach... a hypothetical question for you: devnote: Attempting nonchalance Gale: If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another, unnamed individual, what might that someone do about it? devnote: Attempting nonchalance Karlach: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale. And leave out the hypotheticals. Gale: Talking. Right. I'm good at that.

Gale: You know, Karlach, there are other ways to express love beyond run-of-the-mill physicality... devnote: Hint of flirtation, mostly just trying to be helpful Karlach: Ugh. Are you going to try and teach me about exceptional uses for a mage hand or what? Gale: Actually, I was thinking of poetry. Karlach: Oops, sorry. But... now that I think of it... is mage hand especially hard to learn?

—

Act 02

Gale: I've always felt flames to be a rather perfect expression of love, Karlach. devnote: Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image Gale: Passionate, primal, capable of bestowing the most life-affirming comfort, or inflicting the profoundest damage. devnote: Listing the qualities of fire. Romantic, indulging in the poetry of the image Karlach: That's... pretty nice. Never thought about it like that. But now I will.

Karlach: So, Gale - got any book recommendations for me? devnote: With concern Gale: You can read?! devnote: Taking the piss - knows full well Karlach can read, and that she's always claimed not to enjoy it Karlach: Very funny. Yes - I can read. School put me off big boring tomes. Sometimes I wonder what I'm missing. devnote: Friendly rather than flirtatious Gale: Say no more - I'll find the perfect book for you. I might even lend it to you from my library in Waterdeep. devnote: Jumping on the opportunity to give a book recommendation (a favourite hobby) Karlach: Ooh! Something with magic, please. And no devils. devnote: i.e. 'anyone who would reject you, Wyll, just can't appreciate you.'

—

Act 03

Gale: Am I to understand that you are in love now, Karlach? Karlach: I sure am. If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

Karlach: How's the orb treating you, Gale? devnote: With concern Gale: Oh, quite well as a matter of fact. Since it was stabilised, it's been humming along nicely. devnote: Upbeat, things are looking up Gale: I have noticed one adverse side-effect. I seem to be losing hair in some, er, unexpected places. devnote: Upbeat mood wavering - this is a bit embarassing Karlach: I can only imagine. devnote: i.e. 'anyone who would reject you, Wyll, just can't appreciate you.'

—

Karlach dies at the end of the game, Gale is the player character

Player: Karlach, please... I'm not ready to go on without you. devnote: Distraught, lover is dying.

variant 01: Karlach is dying, Gale is a friend

Gale: No, Karlach. Stay with me, please. We've shared too much to part like this.

—

Game finale (not epilogue)

Karlach is the player character

Gale gave the Crown to Mystra

Gale is in a romance with Karlach

Option 01

Gale: It's curious. After all the wonders and monstrosities we've witnessed, waking beside you seems more unreal than any of it. devnote: Wistful/peaceful - spent a romantic night with the person he loves Gale: I'd forgotten what it felt like, to greet a sunrise without fear of it being my last. devnote: Wistful/peaceful Gale: Oh, hells. I'm sorry. Barely awake a moment and I've already put my foot in it. devnote: Kicking himself, he's accidentally rubbed salt in his partner's very sore wound Player: Don't be. At least one of us will get the cure we were hoping for.

Option 02

Player: Don't be. It's not your fault. Gale: Come now - resignation doesn't suit you half as well as optimism. We'll find some other means of fixing up that infernal engine of yours. devnote: Caring/Encouraging

Option 03

Player: Knowing you, I'd expect nothing less. Gale: You always find a smile where others would soak in their sorrows. And I promise - you'll have reason to smile soon enough. Gale: When we get to Waterdeep, we'll search in my library. It's bound to contain the odd scroll on hellish thermodynamics. Or a spell that might diffuse the heat in such a way that - Gale: Ah. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Do you... that is, would you consider returning to Waterdeep with me? devnote: A bit nervous to ask - this is Karlach, after all Player: I can't. My only hope of survival is to return to Avernus - and I'm not going back. Gale: What, then? You intend to die here? Now? devnote: Refuses to believe it - essentially been told his partner is submitting to her illness

Option 04

Player: I'd love to, Gale, but I can't. My engine is done. Fully cooked. Gale: I - I don't believe it. I won't believe it. Gale: If you go were to return to the hells - temporarily - it would buy us some time. I could put something together, a means of keeping you stable at least. Please, let me try. devnote: Trying to convince her, scared by what she's saying (that she's ready to die) Player: And hand myself to Zariel on a platter? No thanks.

Option 05

Player: Say nothing. Concentrate. You feel like you might explode any second. Gale: I know that look. It's your heart isn't it? Not to worry - you have one of the finest wizards in the Realms at your fingertips.

Gale suggests going to Avernus with Karlach

Player: I'm not going back, Gale. I can't. Gale: What if... what if I went with you? devnote: Scared by his own suggestion

Option 01

Player: I couldn't let you do that. You deserve better. Gale: I deserve the chance to live my life with the raging inferno I love. If that means relocating to the hells, so be it. I've heard Avernus is quite lovely this time of year. Gale: Besides, it would be quite something to study infernal magic in its natural environs. I say 'natural' in the loosest sense, of course.

Option 02

Player: If you were with me, I might be able to handle it. Gale: There's nothing we can't handle - I promise you that. devnote: Essentially his partner just refused treatment for a terminal illness. He's putting a brave face on it so they can enjoy the time they have left. Gale: It's taken me long enough to find you. I'll be damned if I'm letting you go.

Option 03

Player: No, Gale. Neither of us is going to that pit. It all ends here. Now. I just want to see the sky one last time. Gale: If this is the end, then we face it together. That, at least, I can promise you. devnote: Heartbroken - his lover is dying next to him, thanking her for loving him

—

Gale is the player character

Karlach is a mind flayer

Gale goes back to Waterdeep

Player: I think this is where we part ways, Karlach. Karlach: I accept your assessment. You would have been an excellent helpmate in my exploration of what it is to live. But perhaps we are both of us too... changed. Karlach: Where will you go now? Player: Back to Waterdeep. I've a warm fire and a long-neglected reading list to get through.

—

Epilogue

Karlach is dead, was partnered with Gale. Karlach: I can see Gale? Withers: Indeed. His story has marched on since thy great victory - as inevitable as time itself. Let us observe.

Note: will do the rest in a separate post.

Misc banter

Gale: I think your new form rather suits you. It has a certain... cephalopodic charm to it. A tentacular tingle. devnote: Karlach will live! Yay! But she is a mind flayer

Gale: I can imagine no finer ceremorph for the job.

Gale is the player character, hasn't shared his backstory Player: I've a... condition I need to manage. I'd still be looking for a cure. Karlach: We have more in common than I knew. I won't pry for details. Right now, at least. devnote: Karlach wants the goss but won't pry

Gale is the player character, shared backstory Player: Wandering the wilds of Faerûn searching for a cure to the orb. If I lived that long... Karlach: Living a normal lifespan is so yesterday. Believe me.

—

Gale: Revenge is a dish best served hot, it seems. At least when you're in charge of the menu. devnote: Dark humour - your friend achieved her goal, but you know she'll not live long enough to celebrate

—

Gale: Ceremorphosis is Karlach's only chance of survival. It must be her. devnote: Impressed, finding this all very interesting

Gale: No sense dawdling. Karlach has precious little time left to her - we'd do better than to waste

Gale: I've not seen infernal flames like that in quite some time. Why go to Avernus, when you can bring Avernus to us? devnote: Curious/pondering - a rhetorical question, no response from player

—

Gale: I know well the pain of seeing your life's hourglass running empty, grasping at any means of slowing the grains as they slip inexorably through your fingers. devnote: Sincere, a note of pity - Gale once thought he was fated to die because of the orb, so her truly understands what she's going through Gale: Your fate may be ordained, but your actions are not. Make each breath count, and what time you have with us will never be wasted.

Gale: Karlach's fate may be ordained, but her actions are not. She will make each breath count - we can be sure of that devnote: Finding solace in the thought

—

Ilithid transformation

Player: It's okay, Gale. Karlach wants to transform. She'll do it, for herself and for us. Gale: Then I will hold my peace. But if the time comes when even her sacrifice is not enough, call on me, and I will be ready.

Gale thinks that becoming a mind flayer is his best chance at getting the Crown

Gale: I know Karlach has the best intentions, but her kind heart is not going to help me get that crown. Let me do this.

About Gale, Mystra, Elminster, etc

The dialogue lines for this section can be found in the file /Dialogs 2/Companions/Karlach_InParty_Nested_TopicalGreetings.html

—

Karlach: I couldn't help overhearing what Elminster said to Gale. Not every day a god asks for a chat. Karlach: Hey! Maybe I'm invited too. I can be the muscle.

(variation)

Karlach: I couldn't help overhearing. So Mystra wants to talk, does she? Not every day a god asks for a chat. Karlach: ...can I come?

—

Karlach learns about Mystra's message

Karlach: Fuck me. There's devotion, and then there's stupidity. If the god of magic can't handle this without sacrificing Gale, she's no god at all.

Player: I don't think he'd do that to himself, even if Mystra commanded it. Karlach: Good. I'm one hundred percent sure there's another way to bring down this cult. No true god would ask such a thing from her faithful. That's for certain. Karlach: Poor Gale. He must be in bits after hearing that. I'll distract him. Tell him I haven't read a book since secondary school, watch his face melt off. devnote: Being cheeky

Player: I'm not sure. I think he's of several minds. Karlach: Well, tell him to pick the right one. Better yet, I'll do it. Fucking wizards, man! They always need help picking the simple, obvious option. Karlach: If Mystra can't think of another way to stop the Absolute than sacrificing Gale, she's no god worth worshipping. I'll say that to Gale - in, you know, gentle terms.

—

Meeting Elminster Karlach: Aw, was that Gale's granddad?

(variation, if the player is Gale)

Karlach: Aw, was that your granddad?

—

Gale is the Player, talks about Elminster's message from Mystra

Karlach: Aw, was that your granddad? Player: That was Elminster Aumar - the most famous wizard in the realms. Player: Yes it was. Good old Grandfather Dekarios, come to check in on his doting grandson. Karlach: Lovely! You should've introduced him around. Elders love me, and I love them. Player: I'm joking, Karlach. That was Elminster Aumar, the Sage of Shadowdale, one of the greatest wizards to ever live? Karlach: Huh. Doesn't ring a bell. But all right! Must've had something important to say, if he came all this way. Good news, I hope. Player: It relates to a 'condition' I have. I carry an orb of corrupted Weave within my chest. It seems Mystra wants me to detonate that orb and destroy the 'Heart of the Absolute.'

Player: He brought instructions from Mystra. I'm to find the Heart of the Absolute, and destroy it by detonating the orb in my chest. Karlach: The orb in your chest? Shit - I knew something was going on with you, but I didn't know the particulars. Karlach: Well. Turns out we have more in common than I knew. Except I'm trying not to blow up, and you've been instructed to do just that.

Karlach: Wow. That's... that's big, Gale. This is Mystra we're talking about. Goddess of magic - and she's asking you to sacrifice yourself. Karlach: What are you thinking? devnote: As in, 'What are your thoughts about this serious revelation?' Player: This could be my chance at redemption. I have to at least consider dong what she asked. Karlach: Only you can decide if that's really true. If you owe her your life. As for me, I'm positive we can stop the Absolute without losing you, Gale. Karlach: Keep that in mind, all right?

Player: I'm not quite sure yet. It's a big decision. Karlach: No kidding. What could be bigger? Look, I know what it's like to house something dangerous inside you. But I don't know what it's like for someone else - someone I trust - to ask me to use it against myself. Karlach: If you need a friend, you know where to find me. Right here. Right now.

Player: Now that I'm over the shock, I'll probably ignore her request entirely. Karlach: I'm glad to hear you say that. It is shocking. Imagine asking someone to - to end themselves like that. Karlach: Nothing's ever simple anymore, is it? Whatever you decide, I've got your back. But I think we can defeat the Absolute without losing you, Gale.

Player: That remains to be seen. Karlach: Oh? What did he say? Player: I'd rather not talk about it right now. It's a lot to process. Karlach: All right, soldier. But look, if you're in a fix that can be solved by fire or fists, just point me in the right direction. I mean it.

Player: Elminster's no ordinary elder. He's the most renowned wizard in the realms. Karlach: Your grandfather is the most famous wizard in the realms? Karlach: I should've guessed. I mean, you're pretty powerful. Makes sense that it's in your blood. Player: No, Karlach - I was joking before. Elminster isn't my grandfather. But he did tell me something quite serious. Karlach: I'm listening. What did he say?

Karlach: Wonder if he's (Elminster) a wizard too. He's certainly got the beardliness for it

Karlach: Karlach doesn't worry, she acts. So if Gale needs me, now's the time to tell me.

—

Karlach: Wow. 'Chosen of Mystra.' I guess I should congratulate Gale. Right? devnote: Karlach is happy for Gale. Suspicious of Mystra but trying to be supportive. Karlach: I trust him to know what he's doing. To know how far to go for Mystra. I just hope he knows he doesn't need her favour to be fucking fantastic.

(variation, if partnered with Karlach)

Karlach: Wow, Gale. 'Chosen of Mystra.' Congratulations, I think? Karlach: I trust you to know what you're doing. To know how far to go for Mystra. Just know that even without her - even without any of the gods - you're still pretty fantastic. Karlach: 'Chosen of Karlach' has a ring to it, right?

—

Karlach: Whoa. I've seen a lot, but never been threatened by a god. Karlach: It sounded like Gale really meant it. He really wants to take control of the Karsite Weave. Karlach: He really wants to be a god. devnote: She's not bought in. She's assessing Gale here. Measuring him.

(variation)

Karlach: Interesting. devnote: Suspicious

If Gale is the player character

Karlach: Interesting. I'll keep that in mind. devnote: She's starting to lack trust in Gale here

—

Gale is noncommital about returning the crown

Karlach: Wow, Gale. So you spoke to Mystra, right? Karlach: Pretty spectacular stuff. But I think you were right not to do her bidding, no questions asked. Karlach: I respect the gods, but they don't always understand what they're asking of us. Maybe immortality makes it hard to know what it's like to be one of us piggies. Karlach: Proud of you, though. It takes some man to hold his own in front of the divine.

Karlach: Wow. So Gale really talked to Mystra, huh? Karlach: Pretty spectacular stuff. But he's right not to do her bidding, no questions asked. Karlach: I respect the gods, but they don't always understand what they're asking of us. Maybe immortality makes it hard to know what it's like to be one of us piggies.

—

Gale is blessed by Mystra Karlach: You're glowing, Gale. Mystra must be very pleased with you indeed. Don't forget us little people when you're the Chosen of the God of Magic, hm?

Karlach: Gale looks chuffed as cheese. Mystra must be very pleased with him. Let's hope she's got his best interests in mind.

—

Gale agrees to return the Crown to Mystra

Karlach: Wow. Gale is the 'Chosen of Mystra'. Congrats to him, I think? Karlach: Hope he knows what he's doing. We haven't fared very well with other Chosens so far.

—

Gale uses Shadow Weave

Karlach: Hope you know what you're doing, Gale. I'm no paladin for Mystra, but she probably has good reasons for forbidding Shadow Weave.

Karlach: Gale's walking a thin line. Let's hope he doesn't fall headfirst over it - again.

—

Orin kidnaps Gale Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back. devnote: Seething

—

Gale is resurrected Karlach: This fella Gale has as many lives as a cat. Handy guy to have around, huh?

—

Karlach: You all right, Gale? Looking a little shadowy about the gills.

(variation)

Karlach: Is Gale all right? He's looking a little shadowy about the gills.

—

Items and Netherese orb comments

Karlach: Wide berth, buddy. I have some good equipment I don't want you swallowing.

Karlach: The people you meet, I swear... devnote: A little bemused

Karlach: Much as I commiserate with your, you know, thingie. devnote: 'tough ticks' is a karlachism

Karlach: I like Gale, but I'm keeping all my good gear well out of sight. Karlach: Everything fancy he touches meets a grisly end. Karlach: I commiserate with his situation, though. It's tough ticks housing something you can't control.

Gale is the player character

Karlach: Hey now, what happened to that fancy bit of gear? Player: It's a long story involving the Weave, an ancient tome, and a failed attempt to please Mystra, goddess of magic. Karlach: Hm. And now you have to consume gear Karlach really wants because... Player: Because I have an orb of corrupted Weave within my chest. If I don't keep feeding it with magic, I'll explode with enough force to destroy a city. Karlach: Well, shit. And I thought I had it bad. Karlach: That's a tough hand, Gale. But I'm glad you told me. A chest-bomb shared is a chest-bomb halved, or whatever. Karlach: If I spot anything that'll help, I'll hand it right over, pal. We're in this together.

Player: Because if I didn't, I'd be dangerous to all of us. Karlach: Are we talking some kind of were-wizard situation here, or...? Player: I have an orb of corrupted Weave within my chest. If I don't keep feeding it with magic, I'll explode with enough force to destroy a city.

Player: Just because. Karlach: Wizards and their secrets. Buddy, I could ruin that mind of yours with the stories I could tell. Nothing you say could scare me. When you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen.

Player: I had to consume it. Sorry if that scuppered any plans you had for it. Karlach: I'd mind less if I knew the full story. Never seen a fellow suck the magic-marrow out of an item before.

[killerpancakeburger]

Baby it's cold outside

Inspired by @forgeofthenine snow headcanons

Summary: Going on a date in the snow with Dammon.

Pairing: Dammon x Reader

Warnings/tags: No warnings I can think of. Just fluff.

Words count: 835 words.

A/N: Just a little something sweet.

There was always something eerie and otherworldly about a familiar scenery covered in snow. A compact silence reigned over Baldur’s Gate, except for the sound of your own steps in the snow. The streets you were going through were void of life and you relished in the unaccustomed peace and solitude. It almost made the biting cold attacking every inch of unprotected skin worth it.

The forge of the Nine appeared in your range of vision. You started walking faster, motivated by the need of moving to warm yourself up, but first and foremost by the perspective of soon being reunited with your favorite blacksmith. 

A few months ago, the idea of something so mundane as going on a promenade with a lover was out of reach as you fought for your life and against the tadpole inside your brain. Now, however… You knew that the arrival of snow would suffice to light up Dammon’s face.

You climbed up the few steps, walked pass the various smithing devices and stopped in front of the blue double-doors. Turning your back on them, you took in the view one last time, trying to commit them to memory like you would never see them again.

The creaking of a door opening and a familiar voice made you smile to yourself before spinning around.

“You should have come in. I would hate to find you frozen on my porch.”

Even after months of dating, Dammon’s voice still caused butterflies in your stomach and the mere view of him made you grin like an idiot. He wasn’t wearing his work apron, a rare sight. However his faithful green scarf was in place, along with winter clothes.

“I just arrived actually. But why would I need to worry about the cold when I have the hottest tiefling in Baldur’s Gate to warm me up?” you retorted with a smirk.

He chuckled at your antics, blushing a bit. Then he got out, all geared up for your stroll, and as soon as he finished locking the doors, you moved to embrace him. He flinched slightly as you cupped his face in your ice-cold hands. Frowning liglthy, he hurried to cover your hands with his. 

“You are freezing!” he exclaimed in a tone that was half amusement, half reproach. “Come here.”

You complied without protest, entertained by his concern that reminded you of a parent fussing over their child. Your hands closed over the back of his jacket as he gave you a kiss that felt burning simply because of the temperature difference between your lips. His hands roamed over your body, bringing you heat. His tail coiled around your waist. As you separated, he brought his hands to your cheeks numb from the cold, and you thought he was going to kiss you again, but he pressed his lips to your temple instead. Then your forehead, your nose, covering your whole face with affectionate pecks. You wriggled in his grasp, grabbing his wrists in protest .

“That tickles!”

“A fair punishment for trying to turn into an icicle”, he countered, before starring at your neck.

“Did you not bring a scarf?”

You grimaced sheepishly. 

“I was running late…”

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if to say “Really…?”, before starting to take off his own scarf.

“Dammon, don’t-”

“Let me, please?”

He made a sad puppy kind of face that he was well aware you couldn’t ’t resist and all your objections died in your throat. The scarf was still warm from his body heat and felt great on your exposed skin. As he finished adjusting it to you, he smiled lovingly.

“It looks good on you.”

You turned around, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, finding it hard to hold his gaze when he looked at you that intensely. 

“Alright, are we going on that walk or not?”, you mumbled, holding out your hand to him.

He giggled at your reaction and, grabbing your hand, he started to walk, pulling you along.

“We are.”  

You had your back turned on Dammon for merely a few seconds when a snowball crashed against your shoulder. You turned around immediately, scandalized, catching him in the act of preparing another snowball. He seemed to have a blast, not remorseful at all.

“You cheeky bastard! You’re going down!”

Despite your intrepid warcry, you started frantically looking for a place to hide, and threw yourself behind a couple of crates as the next projectile missed you narrowly.

At the end of a ferocious snowfight, you ended up both laying down on your back near each other, panting and wet from half melted snow.

As you rolled over to face him, you found him already starring at you. 

“What?” you asked.

He smiled fondly, grasping your hand and squeezing it.

“I was just thinking how lucky I was to have met you.”

Warmth spread in your chest at the endearing confession. You let out a soft chuckle.

“What?”, he retorted in the same tone you used earlier, not losing his smile.

“That’s funny, because I was thinking exactly the same thing.”