#story: wings of valor

[thesummerestsolstice]

Elvish art genre that definitely exists in Middle-Earth: the captivity of Elrond and Elros (mostly just Elrond, especially after Elros dies)

The paintings– done mostly, but not always, by Sindarin and anti-Feanorian Noldor artists– are usually studies in contrast– Elrond as the bright, innocent child dressed in white; often portrayed as a small, frightened elfling, frozen at the moment he was taken from Sirion. Sometimes he is shown bravely resisting the cruelty of the Feanorians, other times he mourns for Sirion, or bows and prays to the gods for deliverance. Sometimes, he's given wings, both to stress his connection with Luthien and Elwing and to make him look more angelic and pure in comparison to the fallen Feanorians.

Maedhros and Maglor are the dark monsters the oath made them, with teeth, and claws, and harsh armor. Some of the more daring artists just portray Maedhros as an actual orc. While few of the paintings actually show the Feanorians' crimes, they're often portrayed with blood on their hands or swords, or simply surrounded by fire and destruction. They often demand, or threaten in the pictures, towering over Elrond and casting long shadows on him.

There's a few different sub-genres of these paintings. The ones that explicitly compare Elrond's situation to Luthien's kidnapping by Celegorm. The ones that feature a grateful Elrond being saved from the horrible Feanorians by whoever the artist is looking to valorize– Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Oropher, Eonwe, etc. The ones that show Elrond, locked in a dark cell, staring longingly out at Gil-Estel rising in the night sky. Some of the strangest are the ones that draw connections between the Silmarils being kept in Morgoth's crown and the twins– often with Maedhros playing the role of Morgoth.

Elrond hates almost all of these paintings. He feels like they take away his ability to define his past the way he wants to– to tell his own story. Most of them are grossly inaccurate, but most people don't know that, and dredging up all those really painful memories to try and correct people's assumption is hard. Sometimes, even when he does, people won't listen. Some of the paintings also seem... weirdly gleeful about the idea that Elrond suffered because of the Feanorians? Like they're trying to martyr him even though he's alive, and doesn't want to be martyred. It all makes him really, really uncomfortable.

There is one exception. It's not a very traditional example of captivity paintings. Elrond is at the center of the frame, shown not as a small child but as a young adult. Maglor and Maedhros are mostly unseen in the background, each with a bloody hand on one of Elrond's shoulders. Unlike the other paintings, instead of looking off into the distance or staring demurely at the ground, Elrond is looking straight out at the viewer His expression is hard to place. Anger? Acceptance? Defiance? Pity? Accusation? It's a very odd picture that unsettles almost everyone that look at it.

Elrond insists on hanging it in Rivendell.

[exhausted-archivist]

Concepts that I didn’t want to think about but my brain won’t shut off:

1) Cullen should have been a companion vs advisor. The man likes to be active and do things. He’s not a papers guy. Plus while popular most people (statistically) do not know his whole story so he is really easy to explore for both new and old players.

2) We could explore his trauma from dao-da2 while also seeing him work on his recovery - his story would continue to NOT be about redemption, but about working on his sobriety and de-radicalization.

3) By having Cullen as a companion and exploring his story, it would have really brought forward the previously established nuance of the Templars. It would have put the humanization of the Templars front and center - the stuff that’s been buried in codices and ambient dialogue and banter for the past two games. One of those “shouldn’t be the cheese is under the sauce” topics to be honest.

4) Blackwall would have been better suited for the Commander role. He’s led troops before, he “has” wings of valor. As a grey warden it would have still fit his role as remaining non-political because the Wardens are still Andrastian and most of Thedas doesn’t count that as a reason to bar people. Would further push the “Chantry is overstepping their bounds” while also pushing the claim that the Inquisition is NOT Chantry affiliated. Would have made the reveal much juicier.

5) If you did swap Cassandra with Cullen, Cassandra would still pop up in the field. It is weird for a commander to not travel where they’re needed for the army. Plus Cassandra likes to physically handle problems. She’d help establish new keeps, strengthen the Inquisition’s hold else where, investigate the missing seekers, ect. It would also stop the conflict of her only having Templar abilities which as a Seeker she shouldn’t have the same abilities. Similar but different.

6) Even if Cullen stayed as commander we should have seen him in the field more. He is a strategist, a leader, and used to being hands on. Plus he’s too afraid of not having control because he’s never been in control so he’d be traveling just to make sure he was giving his all to the Inquisition like he did the Chantry but also not being like Meredith.

[felassan]

Note: Silverite Wings of Valor

"Silverite Wings of Valor Not all stories must end in sacrifice. For an act of selfless bravery and on the recommendation of Alisse Fontaine, Commander of the Grey, we award the Silverite Wings of Valor to Warden Gordon Blackwall. Where seven of our own might have perished, all now live."

A reference to Warden-Constable Gordon Blackwall - the man who recruited Thomas Rainier - and his heroism after the Fifth Blight, from the Library at Weisshaupt Fortress.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Mystical Items & Objects

Examples in Mythology and Literature

Pandora's Box

The god Prometheus stole fire from heaven to give to the human race, which originally consisted only of men

To punish humanity, the other gods created the first woman, the beautiful Pandora

As a gift, Zeus gave her a box, which she was told never to open

However, as soon as he was out of sight she took off the lid, and out swarmed all the troubles of the world, never to be recaptured

Only Hope was left in the box, stuck under the lid

Anything that looks ordinary but may produce unpredictable harmful results can thus be called a Pandora's box

Hermes' Winged Sandals

Also called the Talaria of Mercury

Are winged sandals, a symbol of the Greek messenger god Hermes (Mercury)

They were said to be made by the god Hephaestus of imperishable gold and they flew the god as swift as any bird

Cintamani Stone

Also referred to as the Chintamani

A wish-fulfilling stone that features across both Hindu and Buddhist religions

The stone features as one of many Mani Jewel (i.e., several gems that are mentioned prominently in Buddhist literature) images that can be found in the scripture of Buddhism

In Hinduism, the stone is connected to the gods Ganesha and Vishnu

Usually, it is depicted as a jewel in Vishnu’s possession known as the Kaustubha

The Kaustubha acts as a sign of divine authority

Arcane Artifacts & Objects

Offer a gateway between time past and time present, bringing layers of ancient history and new-world intrigue to a narrative

Such items are typically represented in fiction as works of long-lost knowledge, primordial features or landmarks, and curious objects of mysterious origin

Often lying dormant until the pivotal moment of discovery, these items invite characters and readers alike into a dance with the unknown

Examples: Necronomicon, Genie's Bottle

Necronomicon

Also referred to as the Book of the Dead

It appears in stories by H.P. Lovecraft

A dark grimoire (i.e., a magician's manual for invoking demons and the spirits of the dead) of forbidden knowledge

Used to open gateways of unearthly powers and cosmic horrors

Genie's Bottle

The classic magical item from mythology, also featured in Aladdin

A vessel of wish fulfillment that often leads to dramatic and unexpected consequences

Doorways & Portals

Doorways in fiction serve as gateways between worlds, dimensions, or states of reality, providing characters with universe-hopping capabilities and genre-defying journeys

These portals, whether physical structures or fantastical mechanisms, open up limitless storytelling possibilities, allowing for sudden shifts in setting and introducing elements of surprise and surrealism

Examples:

C.S. Lewis' wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia serves as a secret portal to a fantasy world, bridging the mundane with the fantastical

The eponymous board game in Jumanji transports its players into a wild and perilous jungle adventure, wrenching them from the safety of their living room

Jewelry, Gems, and Garments

Along with other various accessories, these serve several narrative functions, from symbolizing power and status to bestowing unique abilities upon their wearers

These items can act as plot catalysts (i.e. MacGuffins), embody character traits, or hold deep cultural or magical significance within a story’s world

Example: The Amulet of Mara in Skyrim not only reduces the cost of Restoration spells but also unlocks marriage options for the player, integrating gameplay with the narrative

Legendary Objects of Power

Carry with them stories of grandeur and lore, passed down through generations and intertwined with the fates of those who wield them

These are the objects that make or break worlds, bestow immense strength, and are frequently considered among the most powerful items in fiction

Example: Though it's never actually been seen, the Kusanagi Sword from Japanese folklore is a fabled sword that represents valor, said to be endowed with divine powers

Machinery and Technologies

Stretch the boundaries of physics and logic to offer a glimpse into what could be possible in alternate or future universes

These innovations, whether grounded in current science or verging on the fantastical, propel narratives forward and deepen the complexity of the story’s world

Writers can leverage these technological wonders to enhance their storytelling, using them to explore themes of power, ethics, and the human relationship with technology

Example: The body shields in Dune generate a protective forcefield around the wearer—advanced technology that current militaries can only dream of

Mundane Everyday Items

Possess extraordinary storytelling potential to transform the unassuming into the unforgettable

Seemingly ordinary, these objects can surprise both characters and readers, unveiling hidden depths and abilities when least expected

These seemingly mundane objects could fall into unsuspecting hands and create chaos or catalyze a hero’s journey

Additionally, they might only reveal their true nature to those worthy or capable of wielding their power, which can set the stage for narratives that are centered around discovery and mastery

Example: Oscar Wilde’s Portrait of Dorian Grey presents art as a vessel for dark magic, encapsulating the protagonist’s sins while he remains untouched by time

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[talonabraxas]

Shirdal 'Lion-Eagle' Talon Abraxas

Griffins Origin and Creation

Griffins, unlike many mythical creatures, don’t have a singular origin story rooted in a specific myth or tale. Instead, their existence seems to be an integral part of the world’s fabric since time immemorial. Their primary role as guardians of treasures and sacred realms is deeply intertwined with their nature and symbolism.

The Griffin’s association with the sun, particularly evident in their eagle component, suggests a divine or celestial origin. Eagles, revered in various cultures, symbolize the sun due to their ability to soar high and their keen eyesight that seems to “stare into the sun.” This solar symbolism aligns with the Griffin’s role as a protector of divine treasures. Just as the sun illuminates and nurtures the earth, Griffins, with their solar attributes, watch over and protect the treasures of the gods.

Furthermore, their guardianship extends beyond mere treasures. Griffins are often linked with sacred sites, especially those associated with Apollo, the sun god. Temples, altars, and other places of worship were considered sanctuaries in ancient Greece. The Griffin, with its vigilant nature, was seen as a symbolic guardian of these holy places. Their fierce demeanor and majestic presence served as a deterrent to those who might wish to desecrate these sacred spaces.

In essence, the Griffin’s origin is a harmonious blend of terrestrial might and celestial grace. They might not have a creator god or a specific myth detailing their birth. However, their consistent portrayal across tales and artworks suggests a deep-rooted belief in their existence and significance in the ancient world.

Depiction And Characteristics

Griffins are consistently portrayed as magnificent beings, boasting the body of a lion coupled with the head and wings of an eagle. This duality symbolizes mastery over both earth and sky. Their large, outstretched wings suggest a readiness to soar, while their vigilant eagle eyes are ever watchful. The lion’s robust physique embodies strength and valor, reinforcing their reputation as formidable guardians.

Griffins Nature and Abilities

Greek tales depict Griffins as noble and fiercely protective creatures. They don’t act malevolently but dutifully guard sacred treasures. A touching part of Griffin lore highlights their unwavering loyalty to their partners. People believe that Griffins mate for life, and when one dies, the other stays solitary, never seeking another companion.

Beyond their physical might, Griffins are attributed with exceptional eyesight, rivaling even the keenest eagles. This keen vision allows them to detect intruders from vast distances. Their mighty wings grant them swift mobility, and their lion-like strength renders them nearly invincible in combat. Some legends even whisper of the Griffin’s screech. It was a sound so piercing it could disorient or even immobilize those who dared to listen.

Griffins Symbols

Griffins are intrinsically linked to Apollo, often depicted guarding his treasures and sacred sites. Their dual nature, merging lion and eagle, signifies the sun and the heavens, realms overseen by Apollo. Moreover, their association with gold isn’t merely due to their guardianship of golden mountains. It is said that their very feathers are believed to shimmer like the precious metal, mirroring their divine essence.

Myths about Griffins

Griffins, with their majestic combination of the lion’s body and the eagle’s head and wings, have been a part of various mythologies, but their most notable tales come from Greek legends.

Griffin and Arimaspians: A Battle for Gold

The conflict between Griffins and the Arimaspians is a tale as old as time. Rooted in the vast gold deposits of Central Asia, this myth paints a vivid picture of the Griffins as fierce guardians of these treasures. The Arimaspians, a tribe of one-eyed people, were said to be in constant conflict with the Griffins, attempting to steal the gold that the Griffins so diligently protected.

The earliest classical writings about this conflict come from Aristeas of Proconnesus, a 7th-century BC Greek poet. His accounts, preserved by historians like Herodotus and Aeschylus from the 5th century BC, describe the Griffins as sharp-beaked creatures. However, their portrayal as “unbarking hounds of Zeus” led to speculations that they might have been perceived as wingless in these early tales.

The root cause of the conflict was the immense value and allure of gold. In ancient times, gold was not just a symbol of wealth but also of power and divinity. The Griffins, being part divine themselves, were seen as the rightful guardians of this precious metal. The Arimaspians, on the other hand, driven by their desire and perhaps necessity, constantly tried to raid these treasures, leading to epic battles.

This conflict wasn’t just a simple tale of good versus evil or guardians versus thieves. It symbolized the eternal struggle between the wild, untamed forces of nature (Griffins) and the ambitions of mankind (Arimaspians). The gold, in this context, can be seen as nature’s bounty. Moreover, the story serves as a reminder of the consequences of overreaching one’s boundaries.

[fenharelsfang]

Reposting The Wolf's Heart Chapter 5 because the ending was edited and I plan to continue the story. :)

The small army made their way through the smothering darkness of the palace’s halls with only the glow of the lyrium dagger to guide them. As they approached the throne room, the howling winds of the anomaly reached a crescendo. Sparks of magic and fire crashed against it and illuminated a silhouette that towered above them, so high they couldn’t see the top of it. It melded with the sky, blotting out the stars. Cole, Manfred, and Emmrich staggered back from the despair barreling into them.

“It hurts!” Cole cried.

Ellana gripped his shoulders and brushed the hair from his sweat-stained face. His eyes were tightly shut, his complexion ghastly. “Is it too much?” she asked, brows knitted with worry. “Cole, you should head back where it isn’t so intense.”

He shook his head vigorously and took her hand, using it to ground himself. “I want to soothe the hurt. I can help!”

Ellana chewed the inside of her cheek in thought, but relented. “... If you’re sure. Stay close to me, then.” She looked around for their other party member. “Felassan?”

“I’ll watch Mythal’s back. Go to him,” the elf said. He squeezed her shoulder and ruffled Cole’s hair. “Good luck.”

She nodded and, holding Cole’s hand, approached the roiling black mass. Their breaths were plumes of icy clouds from the cold that seeped out underneath it. A film of frost coated their clothes. If Ellana wasn’t a mage and Cole a spirit, they would have already been frozen solid. The shapeless entity before them was all gnashing teeth and swiping claws. The shadows themselves were sharpened daggers that lashed out at them, slicing Ellana’s cheek and Cole’s clothes as they jumped out of the way.

“Solas!” Ellana shouted.

A gust of wind blasted them backwards, nearly knocking them off of their feet. Cole was the one to steady her this time before unsheathing his daggers. “The demons do not want you near him,” he said. “They feed off of his pain. I will cut a way in!” He lunged into the writhing legion of demons and sank his daggers into it. The outermost demons who felt the blades’ bite screeched and struck out with more sharp blades, each piercing and sticking to his skin like little barbs. “Let him go!”

“You hold no power over us, Compassion” the demons responded, cackling. They began to reel him into the darkness through the anchors in his body. He thrashed wildly, cutting through them, but more emerged, thicker and stronger than the last.

“No!” he pleaded. “I want to be me!”

He had been sucked in nearly to his shoulders, a Despair demon’s fetid breath in his face when a soft, golden light brushed up against the darkness.

“Release him,” a gentle voice commanded. The threads snapped and Cole fell against Ellana who caught him in her arms. She was bright, but not like when she had the anchor. This brightness suited her, a halo wrapped around her body and shining through her eyes. Above her, pure light branched out into wings and a tail. She would fit perfectly in the spaces between Wisdom, a missing puzzle piece finding its way home. Two eyestalks protruded from the head of the spirit like peacock feathers.

The demons hissed and recoiled from her light. It pressed deeper, cleaving a few of them into singular forms that drifted off the main body. They changed before Cole’s eyes, returning to themselves: spirits of Justice and Valor. “Ar lasa mala revas,” Hope whispered as the spirits floated towards the rift in the sky.

Ellana rested her hands on Cole’s shoulders, smiling at him. “Guide them back home,” she instructed. “I can handle it from here.”

She stepped past him and raised a hand to part the darkness before her. Another gale force wind buffeted her, trying to push her away. The shadows left gashes in her exposed skin. It was difficult, but she stood firm against the onslaught. The spirit hovering above her undulated its wings, severing more demons from the anomaly.

“You cannot have him,” Hope declared. The voice was soft, but stern, filled with forgiveness, not reprisal.

“He is lost to you!” the demons sneered. “He belongs to us now!”

“You are mistaken. As long as there is love, as long as someone is willing to take a stand against injustice and enact positive change, as long as people continue to reach out to each other in friendship and aid, I will exist. I am the tether that binds us to a higher purpose. I am the light in the darkness. I can never be snuffed out.”

Ellana could see it then, through Hope’s eyes: all of the little seeds of it spread across Thedas. What must it have been like when spirits roamed free alongside mortals? They were a vital part of the world, the soul of its people. Emotion, magic, it all stemmed from the spirits … and they had all been locked away, forgotten, punished due to the actions of a small minority of them. Solas was right: the world was broken, incomplete. The Veil needed to come down, but not at any cost. There had to be a safer way to do it and, if she freed him, she intended to help him find it.

Hope and Ellana pushed forward, deeper into the darkness. It felt like years had passed. Her body begged for rest. The past few hours had taken a heavy toll on her, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her. Sloth demons whispered in her ears, tempting her with the gift of sleep. But she was so close and she refused to entertain the idea of giving up.

Do you feel his heart, crying out for yours?

Ellana gasped. It was faint, only a brief flicker, but she knew his heart like it was her own. His grief washed over her and she stumbled. A memory of her, spear protruding from her chest, falling away from his grasp. It was him, but he was fading. With renewed vigor, she continued, feet digging into the ground with each step to propel her forward. When next she spoke, it was her voice, not Hope’s.

“Solas!” she cried. A form was beginning to take shape in the center of the void: an elf, bald with glowing eyes and cracks along his skin. He was dying.

“I’m here! Do you hear me?!” She slipped and grunted as she hit the ground. The winds were fierce here near the center of it all, but it wouldn’t stop her. She pushed herself back up and continued. “I told you … years ago … Do you remember?” Her arm reached through the wall of demons into empty air, at first, and then rested against his cheek. He felt cold, hard, like stone. She struggled to push the rest of her body through. “You didn’t listen to me then, but you will now!”

Finally, she burst through into the eye of the storm.The world stilled and silence fell around her. Solas was on his knees, a statue screaming in the void. Lyrium .. he was solid lyrium, just like Mythal’s idol. Ellana’s eyes filled with tears as her hands cupped his face.

“Var lath vir suledin!”

She pressed her forehead against his, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Vegaras em. Isalan na. Ar lath, ma vhenan.”

Please come back to me.

—

Hope floated through the gloom, following the faint trail of light that would lead it to where it needed to be. At the end of the path, Hope found it curled into itself, prepared for death. It was a shell of its former glory, its once steady bright light now dim and flickering. Its branches were cracked and falling apart.

“Wisdom,” Hope greeted.

Its eyes slowly shifted so it was peeking through its broken wings. “...Hope?” it responded, its voice weak. “What are you doing here?”

“You called out to me, so I came.”

“I’m afraid you are too late.”

“It is never too late.” Hope flew around its friend, inspecting it. “Wisdom comes from pain, but you have suffered for too long. You believe you are too far gone, that Pride has whittled you down into nothing, but you are wrong. Your memory lives on in the ones you care about. Let them remind you of who you truly are.”

Hope’s branches tentatively brushed along Wisdom’s, an inviting gesture. Wisdom twitched, but made no other movement.

“Let me in and I will mend the broken pieces of your soul. You are so loved, my friend, and you are needed. Remember yourself.”

Wisdom was quiet for a long time and then slowly, finally, it shifted to rest against Hope’s warmth. Hope embraced it fully, their branches and tails intertwined, the cracks in Wisdom beginning to suture. There would be scars left over, dimmer than the rest of the spirit which shone with an intensity to match Hope’s.

“I remember me.”

—

Ellana still cradled Solas’s face in her hands as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She murmured sweet nothings against his lips in elvhen, pleading for him to come back to her. Was she too late? This couldn’t be the end, she fought too hard – he deserved better than this.

“Please. Don’t leave me here alone.”

There was a hand on her arm and she jumped, eyes flying open.

“Vhenan?”

The hardened lyrium exterior had dissolved and the Solas she knew, the one she loved, knelt before her. He was still covered in cuts and bruises from his fight with the archdemon, his right eye a bloody mess. She ran her fingers across his cheeks and along his jaw as if not quite believing he was real. He was staring up at her like a blind man learning to see for the first time.

“I’m here,” she whispered, tracing the shape of his lips with her thumbs. “I’m here, vhenan.”

His eyes welled with tears and he choked out a sob, kissing her fingers, her hands, her wrists. He touched her face gently, as if she were glass and would shatter with the slightest pressure. They sat there memorizing each other’s face like they were seeing each other for the first time.

“I was lost without you,” he breathed and collapsed in her arms. She cradled him against her chest as he wept. All of the pain and loss, guilt and regret he felt for so long spilling out of him in a great torrent of relief. Above them, their spirits danced in a great arc, filling the darkness with their light.

Outside the battle still raged, but paused when white beams of light burst through the blackness. The anomaly was bloated with luminescence until it finally burst. The legion of demons were suspended in the air as they returned to their natural forms and, in a great migration, funneled up into the sky and back through the rift into the Fade. Where the anomaly had been, Ellana and Solas sat, holding each other like they were the only thing tethering one another to the world.

“Ar lath ma vhenan,” he kept saying against her neck until she captured his lips with hers. He tasted of vile blood and salty tears, but she didn’t care. For so long she had imagined this moment, fearing it was out of reach. Now he was back in her arms and she was never letting him go again.

“You did it,” came Cole’s voice from nearby. “You saved him.”

The kiss broke and Solas stared up at the young man he bonded so well with back during the time of the Inquisition.

“Cole.”

He wasn't able to get another word out for Cole launched himself at Solas, hugging him fiercely. It was a gesture the elf was unaccustomed to among friends, but he returned it with the same fervor.

“I have missed you, my friend,” Solas said.

“You were so far away,” Cole cried. His body trembled. “I almost couldn't hear you anymore.”

“I am sorry for worrying you,” Solas said. “It will not happen again.”

“Good.”

Ellana and Solas smiled at each other and leaned in for another kiss before they were disrupted by heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath them and a pained growl. Elgar’nan’s archdemon stumbled into the throne room in search of its master. Blood oozed from a deep gash in its throat, dripping onto the ground in thick rivulets. Taash was perched on its head, their cleaver sunk to the shaft in the archdemon’s crest. Ellana erected a barrier to protect Solas, Cole, and her, but she needn’t have bothered. The archdemon took a few unbalanced steps before collapsing to the ground, the life fading from its eyes as it took its last shuddering breath.

“NO!”

On their other side, Elgar’nan was doubled over, the essence of his pet surging back into his body. The Veilguard had done it: they rendered Elgar’nan mortal. Felassan and Mythal had been doing an admirable job of defending themselves against the god’s powerful magic. Now they could take the offensive.

Solas stiffened beside Ellana, eyes wide, disbelieving. He watched the elven woman, his oldest friend, face off against the one who struck her down. And Felassan, who was a brother to him, stood to the side, offering support if Mythal needed it. Two of the most important people of his life that he betrayed, that he thought he would never see again. Had they suddenly been transported to the past? Slowly, with Ellana’s help, he stood.

“...Mythal?”

How many years had it been since he’d last seen her true face? He could have visited her in the Crossroads, but his guilt was so immense he didn’t believe he deserved to see her. Now she was there, in front of him, in all of her prior glory. A face that haunted his dreams. A profound shame clamped down on him as he remembered their last encounter in the Crossroads. He had approached her, a heartbroken man having failed yet again and lost someone precious in the process, and she chastised him for his decisions. Mythal had spent hundreds, if not thousands, of her life living amongst the inhabitants of this new world and had forgotten her duty to their people. Did it mean nothing to her now? What he did, in her name, what the Evanuris did, all the suffering they caused … No, he refused to believe that it didn’t matter, that it couldn’t be fixed. He would save his people, with or without Mythal. So he stole her power. She died, for a second time … or so he thought.

The first of his people truly did not die so easily.

Mythal wielded his dagger and lunged at Elgar’nan, the lyrium singing as it clashed against his sword.

“How is she alive?” Solas asked Ellana. He had the overwhelming desire to fall to his knees and beg for Mythal’s forgiveness. At the same time, he knew that she wouldn’t approve of what he needed to do. She held the dagger that would complete the ritual after Elgar’nan was slain. Would he kill her for a third, and final, time if she refused to give it to him?

“I don’t think she is,” Ellana replied, distracting him for a moment. “Her memories reside within Morrigan, but Rook was also granted a lyrium idol of her in the Crossroads to use when the time called for it. I don’t think she’s alive, vhenan, so much as these are the last vestiges of her essence. This must be the moment she’s been waiting for.”

The battle between the two gods ramped up. Elgar’nan came at Mythal with lightning attacks, filling the area with bolts that struck the ground periodically. Ghostly purple aspects of him flashed into existence, surrounding her, but Felassan took them out with massive boulders he carved from the stone. Mythal just narrowly avoided a fatal blow from Elgar’nan’s sword, the blade cutting into her bicep rather than her heart.

Solas jolted, instinctively needing to run to her side, to protect her. “I have to … help her.” He rose shakily to his feet, teeth gritting as he bit back a wave of pain. Ellana was immediately there, an arm around his waist, her shoulders under his arm to prop him up. The wound in his side throbbed. His entire body ached, but that was his friend, his reason for existence and, despite his conflicted feelings, he would be there to protect her. He wouldn’t fail her again.

Ellana thought him an absolute fool. If he tried to enter that fight, he’d die. He had to see that! Still, he tried to walk, pulling her along with him. They only made it a step before his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed against his love. She gently lowered him to the ground.

“You’re too injured, vhenan,” she said, stroking his cheek. His eyes never left Mythal, even as she moved directly in front of his face and tried to catch his gaze. Was he even aware of her presence anymore? “We’d only get in her way.”

His brows furrowed as he continued to watch the battle unfold. Mythal was retaliating with her own fire magic, the searing flames licking at Ellana’s barrier as it encompassed the room. Felassan had to erect a stone wall to hide behind to avoid being incinerated. She blasted Elgar’nan with a tornado of fire and he dodged to the side with ease. He may have been mortal now, but his strength and speed had not waned. He took hits, but so did Mythal and she was always a little bit slower, a little weaker.

“He’s going to kill her again,” Solas cried out, crawling on his hands and knees towards her.

Ellana’s chest tightened and tears sprang to her eyes. A twinge of jealousy needled at her heart. Some stupid, petty, selfish part of her wondered if he would do the same for her. Then she reminded herself that he nearly destroyed the world because he thought she was dead, Veil-be-damned. She wasn’t going to lose him to his guilt and regret, not again. A curse slipped from her mouth as she pulled him back inside the barrier.

“You’ll die if you go after her!” she warned him, holding his shoulders tightly to keep him from moving. She looked to Cole and an unspoken understanding passed between them. Cole switched positions with her.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Solas asked in panic, finally tearing his gaze away from the battle. The absence of her touch frightened him as much as Mythal’s fate did.

“I will not lose you again, you prideful idiot,” Ellana vowed as she leaned down and kissed his lips. “I’ll keep her safe. For you.”

“Wait, Ellana, no!”

No, no, what had he done?

Ellana sprinted into the fight. She conjured a path of ice that she skated along to slingshot around Elgar’nan. As she shot past him, lightning arced out of her fingertips and struck him in the side. Then she leaped into a somersault, anticipating the backward swing of his sword, and pelted him with frozen shurikens as she landed. Fatigue weighed on her, but determination fueled her magic. Solas had always been mesmerized by the way Ellana wielded magic. It was an extension of her body, easily coming to her fingertips without the need for spoken words. She cycled through the elements in the blink of an eye, launching a fist made of stone one moment and barreling down on Elgar’nan with fire erupting from her feet the next. When given the opportunity to specialize, she chose the knight-enchanter discipline that she now used, conjuring swords of solid light that pierced through the aspects of Elgar’nan he continued to summon.

Rook and the Veilguard swarmed past Cole and Solas, joining the fight as well. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, anticipating each other’s attacks and responding appropriately. Taash, Lucanis, and Davrin darted in and out of melee range, picking at Elgar’nan’s defenses. When he retaliated, the mages buffeted him with magic of all specialties. Bellara and Rook fired arrows at him from afar. However, even with ten people giving it their all, he proved to be a formidable opponent. Many attacks he dodged and others bounced off of his red-lyrium-enhanced body.

In one final, coordinated maneuver, Neve moved in to freeze his feet to the floor, Felassan erected a stone casing that crushed Elgar’nan’s legs together, Emmrich and Manfred summoned spirits to harass the god and distract him from freeing himself, and Ellana leaped over his body, manifesting chains of lightning that latched to his wrists. She wrapped them around her hands and yanked, bending him painfully backward in an unnatural position. The rest of the Veilguard cleaned up the last wave of aspects that were summoned in Elgar’nan’s desperation to live.

Mythal glided up the stairs of the dais, a dangerous fire in her eyes, blood on her face and clothes. She was the epitome of triumph.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment,” she snarled, voice quivering with rage, to the god she once ruled beside. “I warned you that the use of the Blight would have consequences. You may have struck me down once, but you have since felt the bite of my Wolf and now, you will feel the sting of my blade.”

Elgar’nan thrashed wildly in his binds. “You cannot defeat me! There is no light, save my glory! No refuge, save my shadow! No desire, save my perfected intention! I am Creator and Destroyer! I am will made manifest! I –” He was brutally interrupted as Mythal cut out his tongue.

Ellana gasped in shock at the sudden violence. Elgar’nan struggled all the harder and it was difficult to hold his arms back. She had to manifest another chain that wrapped around his neck and hoped that Mythal wasn’t about to spew out a prolonged monologue. The tyrant might choke on his own blood long before she finished.

“I told you,” the vengeful goddess continued, “As you sank your blade into my gut, I told you that I would be back for vengeance.” She rested a hand against his cheek. His eyes widened in fear as he realized what was to come and a grin spread across her face. She plunged the dagger into his heart, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Do you feel that, my love? Your mortal body dying all around you? All of your dreams and ambitions slipping through your fingers?” She sank the dagger deeper into his chest, breaking bone and tearing muscle. “What does it feel like to die knowing you are reviled by all those who remain, that you won’t be missed? You will fade into obscurity. Everything you have accomplished will be undone and it will have all … meant … nothing. Eldest of the Sun, eclipsed by the Moon. Poetic, isn’t it?”

Elgar’nan opened his mouth, but only blood continued to gush out. He gurgled, his body spasming, the chains slackening as he lost the strength to fight. Mythal watched in anticipation as the light slowly died in Elgar’nan’s eyes. When he fell limp, she laughed. It was an unhinged, terrifying laugh that soon devolved into sobs. She pulled the dagger from his chest and screamed, stabbing his corpse again and again. Blood spattered on both her and Ellana. Mythal poured all of her pain, sorrow, and regret into her attacks: the loss of their empire, the suffering of her people, the devastation the Blight had wrought because of their pride, her dreams left unfinished.

Mythal sought vengeance for so long, but it left her feeling empty. It did nothing to soothe her sorrows. She continued stabbing Elgar’nan, turning him into a pulpy mess. Ellana released the magic of the chains and came around to Mythal’s side, reaching out a hand to rest gently on the goddess’s shoulder.

“Mythal,” she said gently. “It’s over. He’s dead. You can stop now.”

Fueled as she was by her tempest of emotions, she misconstrued Ellana’s gesture as an attack and swung wildly. The dagger slashed across the right side of the Inquisitor’s face and sliced half of her right ear off. She screamed in pain and clutched at her mutilated ear. Her cheek and brow burned in agony as she staggered back. Mythal was shocked by what she had done.

“VHENAN!” she heard Solas shout. Suddenly he was at her side, pulling her away from the anguished goddess and folding her protectively against him. There was magic gathering around his outstretched hand, directed at Mythal. He would have actually struck her if Ellana didn’t say anything.

“I’m alright!” she murmured against his chest, even as blood pooled in her injured eye and streamed down the side of her head. She placed a hand on his arm to lower it, though he resisted. His heart was racing against her cheek and his muscles were so tense she feared they might snap. The two gods stared at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. Something had broken between them. Ellana was horrified. She pushed at his arm again and he finally relaxed it. Instead of lowering it back to his side, his hand went to her eye and then her ear, closing the wounds so she wouldn’t bleed out.

He was enraged, his eyes still glowing with the charged magic he nearly used on his old friend. “What is wrong with you?” he growled at her. “You could have killed her!”

“She didn’t mean to do it,” Ellana assured him, pulling his chin towards her so he could see the truth in her eyes. “It was an accident.”

The dagger clattered to the floor and Mythal shrank back, staring down at her bloodied hands. “You were foolish to get near me,” she said, a prideful creature even now. Ellana could see her hands shaking, though.Mythal closed her eyes and breathed deeply to return to her senses. She opened them and stared down at Elgar’nan’s corpse, his identity barely recognizable now. It was over. Thousands of years of torment ended. Now she was left with nothing but a singular purpose, her original purpose. She knelt down to pick up the dagger.

With the last of the Evanuris dead and Mythal only a remnant, tears began to develop in the Veil around them.

“Inquisitor…” Rook warned. They needed that dagger back. Solas had to be tied to the Veil to prevent it from falling.

Ellana nodded and held up a hand to stop Rook from intervening. He promised her the chance to change Solas’s mind. She glanced briefly at Mythal who was contemplating the dagger and fear settled in her veins. Would she choose to aid Solas now? And what of Morrigan? No, she had to focus. One problem at a time. She turned to cup Solas’s face in her hands. “We have to close the Veil, vhenan.”

He stared at her and she could see that he was faltering. She thought of the letter Rook had given her, written by Solas to her, but never sent. He had been close to breaking before. This wasn’t what he truly wanted to do, it was something he felt he had to do. He only ever wanted to be Solas, to stay by her side and forget the horrors of his past, but that would be a disservice to everyone he hurt and everything he fought for. His eyes filled with an ancient pain and he shook his head, slowly removing her hands from his face. “Ir abelas, vhenan, but I cannot.”

“It doesn’t have to–” Ellana started to explain, but he interrupted her.

“Our people — The things I’ve done, I —” It couldn’t have been for nothing.

“That burden is not for you to bear alone.”

Mythal approached them. She was calmer, more in control of herself again. Standing before them, she rested a hand on Solas’s shoulder and he flinched, like a child expecting reprisal. Ellana wanted to smack her hand away, but she didn’t. It was all so messy and complicated. He lowered his head in deference and would have curled more into himself if Ellana wasn’t there in his arms.

“The many mistakes we made, we did together,” Mythal continued. “I shouldn’t have asked you to make this weapon. It corrupted you, twisted you against your purpose, and the world has suffered from the blight it created. You have served me well, Dread Wolf, and I have only one more task for you.”

She let go of him and used the lyrium dagger to slice open her palm, letting the blood coat the blade and pool in her hand. Then she walked over to the nearest Fade tear and pressed her hand against it. It shivered against her touch, the ancient magic taking hold, and slowly, the rift closed.

Solas fell to his knees, stricken. “Mythal … What have you done?” Why was she binding herself to the Veil? All of his plans … he didn’t want to have to go through her again, but she was throwing herself in his way again. Why couldn’t she see that the Veil needed to fall?

"I am doing what I have always done: protecting the People.” Her form turned translucent, losing its solidness, and Morrigan stumbled out of her, freed from her possession. Ellana came forward to catch the witch, who was grasping her head like had a splitting migraine, but was otherwise unharmed. The wounds Mythal contracted during her battle with Elgar’nan were nonexistent on Morrigan. “What remains of my life force and power will serve to hold the Veil in place, until such a time that it is finally brought down.”

Had he heard correctly? Until the Veil was brought down?

Ellana’s hand slipped into his, giving it a squeeze. “I was trying to tell you,” she said, “that I agree with your goal. The Veil should come down.”

Solas tilted his head, confused by her sudden change of heart. Rook curled his fingers around the hilt of his blade. This was exactly what he feared. The Veil couldn’t come down, it would destroy everything!

“Peace, child,” Mythal said to him before continuing. “I have done my part, Solas, and now you will do yours. This world will need Wisdom to guide it back from the brink of annihilation, and Hope to sustain it. You will seek atonement by working to heal the Blight and free the spirits beyond the Veil, but this world and its people will not be collateral damage. Make this final promise to me.”

Solas swallowed harshly, his gaze passing over everyone gathered around them until it stopped on Ellana. Why? Why was she still so willing to help him? It had been years since they last saw each other. He took her vallaslin, destroyed her heritage, and broke her heart, leaving her there in Crestwood in the freezing, pouring rain. She would have died if Dorian and the Iron Bull hadn't already been there for whatever reason. Then he really left, only to come back and take her hand. Yet she still fought to get to him and nearly died again for it. Now she was mutilated by his mistakes and stood by his side regardless. She was … just like him. He thought pushing her away would free her, but it just bound her tighter to him. He was her Mythal and he fought so hard not to be. The cycle of abuse continued.

“Solas?”

Ellana's hand was on his cheek, wiping away tears he didn't realize were falling. “I don't deserve this,” he sobbed. “This … chance. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, over and over again … just like her.”

“Stop,” Ellana said. “I see where this is going. Yes, you broke my heart. I won't deny that. But everything I've done is a choice I made. You didn't coerce me into removing my vallaslin. You offered to take it if I wanted you to. Yeah, the Anchor nearly killed me, but you didn't even know me when I got it. That was a choice I made to help Divine Justinia. You told me you didn't want me to join you so I wouldn't see what you would become, even when I asked. I made the choice to come after you. Granted, it wasn't much of a choice considering what you planned to do, but it was always my choice to fight for the chance to show you a different path. You don't get to take that away from me. I did it for you, but I also did it for me. All I've known is loss. I've always felt like an outsider to this world, until I found you. I deserve to be happy and only you can make me so.”

She looked at the goddess next to them. “You are not Mythal. If you were, you wouldn't have told me the truth about my vallaslin, you wouldn't have refused to go further that night in Halam'shiral, you wouldn't … love me. You always let me have a choice, even if it went against what you wanted. I mean, you let those mages live when you honestly had every right to kill them, but you didn't because I asked you not to. Even though you wanted the Veil to come down you still worked to strengthen it, essentially self-sabotaging yourself because your heart was never really in destroying this world. You left bread crumbs for us to find you because you so desperately want to follow another path, but you don't think you deserve it and you can't see what it is. Well, you do deserve it and you have me and all of the friends you’ve made to show you the way. But to do that, to take that new path, you have to do so with an open heart and mind. You have to face what's been done to you and accept it. You have to let go of your pride because you do not have to do this alone. You can save our people without destroying yourself.”

She wiped more of his tears away, smiling warmly up at him. He struggled to breathe, so wracked with sobs. After giving her hand a squeeze he stepped away to approach the last remaining rift. It remained open, waiting for Mythal to close it with the last of her essence. Another choice she took away from him. He lifted his hand to the Veil and thought of all of the people who suffered because of him, because of what Mythal made him. And there, across the Veil, he thought he saw, just for a moment, the flicker of an old friend smiling at him and he thought of the conversation they had near the end of their journey in the Inquisition.

How can you be happy surrendering, knowing it will all end with you? How can you not fight?

You've got it all wrong, Chuckles. This is fighting back.

How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?

You thought that fisherman gave up, but he went on living. He lost everyone, but he still got up in the morning. He made a life, even if it was alone. That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes – and it's gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets.

He made a life. It wasn't an easy life, but he did it anyway. There was one big difference between him and the fisherman, though: he wasn't alone. He hadn't lost everyone. In fact, he had gained people and they were so, so precious to him. The ghostly apparition before him disappeared and he smiled.

“Thank you, Varric,” he whispered and rejoined the group.

“I have much to answer for,” he said. “And it is … daunting. I will work to soothe the anger of the Blight, to free the spirits of the Veil and restore the elven people, only if it is safe to do so. I will no longer pose a threat to this world. I will help to create a better future – for all of us.”

He turned to Mythal. “But I will not do it because you asked me to. I will not do it for you.” He took Ellana’s hands in his. “I will do it because it is the right thing to do and because this world has worth. It deserves to exist. I never had any right to decide otherwise. I will not waste this second chance.”

Ellana was beaming up at him with glistening eyes, a look of such pride in her face. Her heart lightened and she pulled him close. “Vir shiral malasa, bellanaris.”

They kissed and, for once, he didn't care who watched. He poured everything he had into that kiss, all of the love, devotion, hope, relief, and happiness that was filling him up, bursting at the seams of his heart. It made Ellana light-headed. When their lips parted, she was breathless and he had to hold her up because she went weak in the knees.

Mythal’s face showed no emotion. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. She handed Solas the dagger and rested her hand atop his for a moment. Then she smiled, a sad smile filled with her own regret. “You are free from my service,” she said. Slowly, she disintegrated before them. The wisps of her spirit drifted to the remaining tear in the Veil and sealed it.

A curtain of blissful silence lowered around them. The moon and sun parted from one another with the paler orb sinking below the horizon. The clouds parted and sunlight shone down on Minrathous. It was a mess and remnants of the Blight were everywhere, but it was truly over. The Evanuris had been defeated. Below, in the city, people cheered with joy and relief. Elgar’nan’s forces retreated back to the shadows in which they came. The darkspawn in the south fled back into the Deep Roads. Thedas breathed a sigh of relief.

“Those are pretty words,” Rook said, disrupting their moment of peace. He picked up the red lyrium dagger from the floor next to Elgar’nan’s corpse. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t quite believe them. You are the god of lies, treachery, and rebellion … depending upon the story. We have no guarantee that you won’t turn on us again. You can’t just walk free.”

Ellana stood in front of him and Felassan and Cole came to each side. Solas was shocked and looked to the best friend he had committed the ultimate betrayal against. Felassan didn’t look at him, but stood resolute at his side regardless.

“You do have a guarantee,” Ellana said. “If you won’t believe he’s changed, then believe that we will protect this world and keep him on the right path.”

“You’re a bit biased, Inquisitor.”

“But I’m not,” Felassan said. “I’m a victim and though I once sympathized with his cause, my views changed. I have lived among the people of this world. I’ve made friends and shed blood for it. This world deserves to exist and I will fight until my last breath to see that it does. Against the Dread Wolf … or anything else.”

“I want to heal the hurt,” Cole said. “ Tearing down the Veil hurts people and spirits. I won’t let it happen, either.”

“Cole is an empath and a spirit of Compassion,” Ellana said. “He can read Solas’s intentions. He’ll know if Solas changes his mind. Beyond that, Mythal protects the Veil and she won’t allow Solas to tear it down either, unless it can be done safely.”

Solas maneuvered his way around them so he was standing before Rook, close enough that the man could strike him if he wanted. He held out his ritual dagger to the man to take. “You have no reason to believe me, Rook,” he said. “But I have found a new purpose today. Beyond that, I was also reminded of my reason for existence and I almost lost her. I will not let that happen again. She is a part of this world; it made her. When I first awoke, I did not want to see the inhabitants of this world as people with loves and families and dreams. That line of thinking would make what I had to do easier. I punished Felassan for what I perceived as a betrayal. Then I joined the Inquisition and met Ellana and she changed … everything.”

Rook was surprised to see Solas relinquishing his dagger to him. This was the one weapon, aside from the one the Evanuris crafted, to repeat the ritual to tear down the Veil. And he was entrusting it to Rook. Maybe the Dread Wolf really had changed. There was a time Rook believed he could … because Varric believed it. He had forgotten in his grief, but he remembered now.

“The Veilguard will stay vigilant,” he vowed, “and we will be there if you step out of line again.” He sighed. “You owe it to Varric to keep your word. I wish you luck.”

“Thank you, Rook.”

And so the Dread Wolf was stopped by, of all things, love.

[finlands-beret]

Sylvando Lore & Theory Masterpost

Sylvando is an international man of mystery, with him only giving us, the audience, so much of his backstory. Like every great magician, he never reveals his secrets. Soon after I got the game five years ago however, I started combing and filing through the game for all of those secrets, to bring them out into the open. Today, the fifth anniversary of me buying the game, I'd like to share my findings.

Please bear in mind the following is based mainly on my own research, as well as theories crafted from as much information as I could gather from the game itself and supplementary material.

So I'd like to begin strong out of the gate, with possibly the biggest piece of lore I have pieced together: Sylv's age. His father's from Puerto Valor, and his mother was from Zwaardsrust. This, coupled with the fact Sylv himself states he was born and raised in Puerto Valor, assures that he was born after Zwaardsrust's fall. That happened thirty years prior to the game - which brings Hendrik in to the equation. He states in a party talk during act two that "three decades have passed", putting him at six years old when the kingdom fell. This would put Sylv at being six years younger than Hendrik, but then factor-in the nine months his mother most likely carried him for, which puts Sylv at nearly seven years younger than Hendrik. Hendrik is stated to be thirty-six in-game; thus, Sylvando is twenty-nine during act one, and thirty in act two; a year is said to have passed between Yggdrasil's fall and the party reaching Gallopolis.

Next is something that seems simple at first, but has quite some backstory behind it: The casino in Puerto Valor was originally meant as a mansion for Norberto. Don Rodrigo had it changed it to a casino as a means to try and entice Sylv back home. This one stems from the fact Sylv self-admittedly was obsessed with collecting mini medals back in his training days. He had his first argument with the Don over him throwing them all away, and perhaps to make it up to Norberto, Rodrigo made him his own getaway in the form of his own house. It would have been completed before Sylv ran away from home however, leaving an empty, shiny new building behind (Sylv even mentions in a party talk that there wasn't anything like a casino when he was living in the city). Not wanting to let it go to waste, and presumably approaching L'Académie because he knew of their connection to the humble mini medal, the mansion was transformed into the combined casino and hotel. Once it was completed, it might have been Don Rodrigo's idea to make the casino tokens look like mini medals, and he might have sent people off to scatter them around Erdrea in hopes Sylv would have found at least one and gotten curious enough to find-out where they came from. He apparently never took the bait, especially not after hearing the rumours of the casino being built. Sylv was simply too smart to fall for it.

The next theory I dug around for was hidden in plain sight: Sylvando was almost blinded in his youth. In the ensuing healing, his eyes were OVER-healed somehow, and now he's got excellent eyesight. During act one, to find the Silver Orb the party are encouraged to look around L'Académie, where eventually it's suggested they look at a certain book in the library. Said book details the story of how a group of vicious bird monsters tore through the roof of a local manor house and stole away with the noble family's greatest treasure - the Silver Orb. On the party's excursion through the Eerie Eyrie, Sylv will mention how he's never been a fan of things with wings. In fact, during one party talk, he says "I don’t know why, but the naughty things always try to peck my eyes out. Perhaps they think they’re precious, glittering jewels…" This makes for quite a harrowing piece of Sylv's backstory; Sylv was present when the birds attacked the villa to get at the Silver Orb years ago, and in the ensuing chaos he was almost clawed-at. To further the next point, he was healed at the scene (assuming a family like the Don's would have at least one healer on-site), but then his eyesight became TOO good - as we see later in the game, when Sylv looks from the Stallion's deck all the way towards another boat to attempt to lip-read, just outside of Lonalulu, before the tentacular fight. Additionally, this attack is why the villa's roof has a lot of spiked points on it; to deter bird monsters from ever trying again.

I would like to thank and credit @captainbobbin for this next piece, which came-about more recently than all of the others: Sylv's charm-based magic is based on the emotional aspects of charm i.e. romance. Knowing that Sylv's eyes turn to hearts when he uses Pink Pirouette, I enquired to Bobbin about if the same were true about Jade and Pink Typhoon/Tornado, and using excellent camera trickery, he confirmed that her eyes do not change. Captainbobbin then put forth the suggestion that due to this, and given the naming of one move the two share being different -"That's Amore" vs "Sexy Beam"- as well as Jade's differing way of using her own charms, the Princess of Heliodor embodies the more physical side of charm, whilst Sylv embodies the more emotional side.

Speaking of romance… Sylv spent years living in Gondolia with the master mechanic, Gismo Mecánico, in order to design and build the Salty Stallion. However, where the loading screen tip for the Salty Stallion calls Gismo "an old associate of Sylvando's", and the red book " The Astonishing Inventions of Gismo Mecánico' " describes Sylv as "a close personal friend of the ship's designer", I believe that Sylv was indeed in love with Gismo, but it ended tragically. During the Briscoletti quest in Tickington, when choosing a partner you can talk to Sylv and he will say: "Before I get too carried away, though, I'd better check—because heaven knows I've been burnt before—you do actually mean it, don't you, honey?" It's such a small line, but given the aforementioned references… I would wager Sylv made a proposal to Gismo, who turned him down - and some time after, they passed away - potentially in a horrific accident, given the rocky terrain-look of the far side of the Gondolian dock entrance. There is a whole estate of houses on the far side of the docks, which I assume belonged to Gismo.

For my next piece of lore, I'd like to turn to my favourite of the bunch: Given DQXI's heavy theme of reincarnation, and given the following evidence pointing towards it, Sylv may well be the reincarnation of the very first Don of Puerto Valor. In Jasper's quarters in Heliodor Castle, there's a red book Eleven can read about the story of the Shield of Heliodor (aptly titled "National Treasures, No. 106 – The Shield of Heliodor"). In it, it tells the tale of a legendary Heliodorian knight who saved the life of the first King of Zwaardsrust, which was Drustan - whom Hendrik is a probable reincarnation of. Said knight was the same knight who was sent to Puerto Valor to oversee the sea gates, as he is the direct ancestor of Don Rodrigo - thus, Sylvando as well. There's also the fact as well that Sylv receives the Coraza de Caballero from Servantes after the Kingsbarrow Trial; its description says it once belonged to a knight known for his godlike skill with a sword. This suit may very well have been that Heliodorian knight's own suit, handed down through the generations until it ends-up (back) with Sylv. Additionally, it's often stated that Don Rodrigo is a knight unparalleled with his own skill with the sword; most likely inherited from the first Don and passed down to Sylv. This could explain why Sylv still retains a strong sense of justice and sticks to everything the knighthood stands for, even long-after becoming an entertainer; it's ingrained very deeply within him. As for why the Shield of Heliodor stayed in Heliodor… It's most likely the original knight simply didn't want to carry it all the way to Puerto Valor, given it's a heavy greatshield. Considering the above, this also brings about the possibility that Sylv and Jade are very, very, distantly related - cousins many times removed, most likely. Additionally, there is a book in Heliodor titled "A Brief History of Heliodor" that chronicles the two brothers who founded Heliodor; I have reason to believe that the legendary knight was one of those two brothers (who went on to found the lineage of the Don), and the other brother went on to continue the royal line that led to King Carnelian, then to Jade.

Next I'd like to turn to Sylv's longest-held companion, Margarita; she was born in Cobblestone. When Eleven has his vision-flashback after returning to Cobblestone, there's a horse there who had just given birth. Speaking to her owner, he says "This is the fastest filly in the village! But she won't be doing much running for a while—she's about to become a mother! I'll bet her foal will be even quicker on its feet than she is!" Given that the flashback is set ten years prior, that would mean the foal would be ten years old in the present day - which is in-line with Margarita, being an adult horse. As for her bring the fastest filly's foal, Margarita's performance in the Sand National should be the first piece of proof; if the Luminary wins the race, Sylv is always a close second. Likewise, in the Black Cup horse races, particularly the Difficult race, Margarita will always race-off ahead. If Eleven fails to catch her or he hits too many obstacles, she will always win those races.

As an entertainer, Sylv is also a skilled musician - so much so that much of his moveset incorporates references to numerous real-world songs. Here is a list of everything I found, after extensively looking into every ability and pep power Sylv has:

That's Amore - Dean Martin song Have a Ball - album by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes Ultra Violet - Bananarama song Hit Parade - BRADIO song Kiss Me Deadly, Gold Rush - several songs of the same name The Fight Fantastic - multiple albums, also an idiom meaning to dance nimbly Kiss of Death - several songs/albums of the same name Love Hurts - Everly Brothers song Shooting Stars - numerous songs/albums; also the name of a 1990s British comedy panel show which heavily featured music Rough 'n' Tumble - jazz album by Stanley Turrentine "Dressed to Kill" accolade - 10cc and The Jetzons songs of the same name

Sylv will also say "Hit me with your best shot!" when defending in battle, which is a reference to the Pat Benatar song of the same name. As a bonus, Golden Boy's dialogue while giving the recipe book for the Dapper Doublet, makes references to Robbie Williams' song "Angels" and Take That's song "Shine".

For the penultimate piece of lore, I'd like to turn to something that had my attention a while ago, and that has come back to me recently; there is a curse within the line of the Don, that prevents those in rule from holding happy or long marriages. This one is based on the potential that Puerto Valor is partly-based on Monte Carlo, the ward within Monaco famed for its casinos - and of the legendary curse surrounding Monaco's royal family, the House of Grimaldi. The legend states that a woman -be she a witch or a hag- cursed the first Grimaldi ruler of Monaco and his line to never have happy marriages. Where we only ever hear of Don Rodrigo's marriage, while he and Gerbera were happy their time together was a short one as she passed away shortly after Sylv was born. It could be assumed that previous Dons all suffered similar fates with their spouses, and assuming Sylv knows about this curse, could be why he has yet to marry.

To end with, I'd like to present something perhaps more out-there than some of the others put forth here: Sylvando was a prototype Luminary for Yggdrasil. For a start, there is the fact he has a character-exclusive, Sword of Light-analogous sword in the Shamshir of Light, which deals light-elemental damage when attacking. There is also the fact he seems to know how to use light magic (in contrast to the actual Luminary's lightNING magic), with his abilities Sobering Slap and Sudden Death. Much like the Shamshir, Sudden Death deals light-elemental damage - the only ability to do so. There may be some irony in that he's the only person who joins the party who DOESN'T join because Eleven is the Luminary (he joins to stop the Lord of Shadows, so he can travel and bring smiles to everyone). Sylv could be considered the guid(ing light, given his magic) to the Luminary proper, assuming of course he was a prototype to begin with.

With all of the above, I'd like to thank anyone and everyone who took the time to read through, and I hope you enjoyed this rather deep dive into the onion of a character that is Sylvando. This has been an undertaking of the past half-decade, and I'm glad to finally be able to put all of my research together like this.

[mezzy-1]

Clove D&D Headcanons (Valorant)

Ok, Riot put D&D into Valorant with some of Clove’s voicelines.  As a resident Valorant and D&D nerd (I’ve DMed and played more than 20 different campaigns) I wrote some headcanons.  Please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoy!  

Clove 

As the Dungeon Master, they are in control of the entire story.  Mostly...

The campaign setting is 100% Runeterra because let’s be honest, if League of Legends is canon in Valorant, then yeah D&D would be in that world too

Often meeting famous characters along the way

Currently the story is taking place against the backdrop of Piltover and Zaun fighting each other, which the party finds themselves in

The group is trying to keep the escalation low by keeping Runes from ending up in the hands of either side.  They have to balance this with their own allegiance to certain characters though

Clove’s own joy comes from writing the most fan-fic inspired story and injecting as much drama into it as possible.  Like they actively find the most dramatic way to resolve an arc

They always listen to podcasts that have campaigns.  Their favorite so far is called ‘Role a Crit’ which introduced them to the hobby 

Clove can surprisingly imitate accents despite theirs being nearly impossible to understand sometimes.  They slip into voices well too, lowering theirs to a growl or into a high pitched squeak

Has a number of playlists for battle music, fantasy ambience, and creepy sound effects for whenever they need it

They do have a character they played before joining Valorant though: a Sorcerer named Titania 

Clove keeps the character sheet and some art they drew of her in a shoebox along with some of her other belonging from her old life

Titania appears as a guiding presence for the party whenever the group needs direction or quick save.  She’s one of the favorite NPCs in the party

They revel in the moments the party realizes that there’s a huge twist or when they have a climactic battle.  The grin on their face is diabolical and hides how excited they are

Clove’s dice are from older editions and worn a bit from much use.  They have a set of dice in the colors of Non-Binary Flag they were gifted by a friend that they use most

They also have a comically large twenty sided die for boss battles too

Gekko 

He has Dizzy sit in his lap while he sips whatever he brought to the table

He’s playing a Vastaya druid called Raldo, that leads around a massive Flutterbug named “Tio” that he adopted from a nest

Every single time the group comes across some kind of animal, he is the first to try and adopt it

“Guys, we totally need to bring these little guys with us.  Think of how awesome Basilisks would be to ride into battle!”

He has a small entourage of critters everywhere he goes, which he constantly drops spells on to let them swarm everybody 

He’s played a ton with friends before, and has a bunch of dice left over from that.  He taught Neon how to build her character

As a result, he’s the first person she asks about rules and their characters started the game as a duo and stick together

Has Wingman there for fun and lets him roll his dice

Wingman has his own character in the game, courtesy of Gekko being bored one night.  It’s a simple Minion, and the group love him to death

Wingman is able to roll dice, but sticks to taking everyone’s shiny dice

This has become an ongoing issue, because Wingman likes shiny and will steal right from the table if allowed

Wings does have a character in the game.  A simple Minion that comes along with the party and just does follows 

Gekko’s dice are clear green and yellow resin dice, and plenty of marbling with shimmering resin

One of the designs on his skateboard is a Twenty Sided Die surrounded by runes and ‘Buena Suerte’ written underneath

Neon 

She’s playing a Fae Fawn ranger that is new to the world and has no idea what is going on.  She’s never played so her having no idea what’s happening is built in to her character

She named her character ‘Holly,’ after the flower because she thought it was nature-themed.  

Almost named her ‘Wreath’ but decided against it.  She had a long list of flower and nature inspired names 

Has the most unhinged plans whenever playing.  Like breaking into a fort by setting fire to the inside and blowing the drawbridge up when the guards run across

“Look we can see they’re excavating some powerful Rune.  We should just run in and grab it for ourselves and then kill them all with it right?” 

Once hit a Natural 20 to shoot a fleeing NPC with important information.  After she killed him she asked: “So did we win?  I rolled high so I think we did.”

Luckily Clove improvised that the NPC had some mysterious letter to account for the sudden shift

In the grand scheme of the story, her character has been tasked with finding out where her sister has been taken too by raiders.

Neon has the books loaded up on her phone at all times and still doesn’t get all the rules.  Gekko usually helps as well as Clove

Listens to some of ‘Role a Crit’ when she’s killing time on the treadmill.  She gossips with Clove about the latest episodes and fan theories

Neon always sort of thought the game was a bit too complex to learn.  She has since dropped the judgment and really embraced it now that she’s played

Her dice are on loan from Gekko and Clove.  A mixture shimmering teal and bright yellow sets

Neon is really getting into the community around it and some of the lore.  She mostly likes being able to talk about the game and have something in common with the others

Also bombs the chat with memes about the campaign and inside jokes

Phoenix 

A human bard but one with ties to a bunch of dragons that gave him training for magic in exchange for him entertaining them

He named his character Monte Gildedgrasp.  It’s a character he’s played in previous campaigns before

His instrument is a lute crafted with scales.  He has sound effects queued on his phone for when he uses it in the game 

Flirts with anything that moves, and sadly rolls high enough to get somewhere.  Then rolls so abysmally when he tries to commit to the bit

“You haven’t seen hot if you haven’t seen me.” he says to barmaid and has amazing charisma to back it up.  2 hours later he was robbed and stabbed by her 

“...not feeling as hot now…anyone got bandages?...”

When his character sings, he also sings and does an amazing job of it.  He already could freestyle, but doing in old English is a flex

Adds insults and mockery before rolling to attack enemies.  In Shakespearean style though so he can use some old theater skills

This man was lowkey ready to dress up but didn’t cause nobody else really would.  It’s their loss, he has a good sense for costuming 

Lends a hand to the party a lot.  His magic and healing spells come in clutch whenever the party needs it too

Clove fashioned a web of intrigue for his and Jett’s characters.  Phoenix’s dragon allies are going missing and Jett’s character may know who is causing it

It’s caused both of their characters to be slightly suspicious of another.  What’s even more fun is that both characters are also crushing on each other in spite of it

Phoenix is more than capable of giving a heart wrenching performance if needed.  When a distraught mother came to him, he delivered the most beautiful and comforting speech

His dice are on loan from Killjoy’s massive dice stash.  He picked them out himself, and promised not to singe them

A speckled rust and orange dice that have cracks of bright gold and numbers written in old Gothic font.  The numbers also glow in the dark too

Phoenix lives for the stage, so having a small outlet to act and sing a bit feels incredible for him

Jett 

Playing a human assassin that has been working her way towards a target that wronged her a long time ago

Her ex-employer is sort of the main villain.  A chem-baron that is killing magical creatures to make new weapons from their corpses

Jett’s character, Dysha, used to kill for that same chem-baron before leaving after realizing she felt guilt for the innocent lives she took

Clove loves dark backstories, so Jett is getting the full character angst and recovery treatment from NPCs and the Party

She will bluff and lie, and somehow manage to get her way because the roll is high enough.  It’s always for ridiculous lies though

“Yes I’m supposed to be in baron’s room after dark!  I’m his…uh mistress?  Why do I have a knife and have him tied up?  Uh… roleplay?...”

That incident is not to be brought up by the party unless they also want to die

She uses her character as an excuse to do things with friends in sort of a lowkey way.  Being able to cook some food and eat it together is main reason for coming

The fun story and in-jokes are a bonus

She is the second flirtiest after Phoenix’s character, and the two constantly have their characters flirt and have romantic moments

Phoenix’s character soon discovered she helped kill one of his draconic mentors in a twist orchestrated by Clove.  It was such a huge shock to the whole group

Jett and Phoenix flexed their acting skill by having the characters make up and agree to no more secrets between them.  Then they kissed (but insisted it was only performance)

Nobody believes them.  

Her dice are metal and come in a tin decorated with so many stickers.  She bought them at a comic shop in LA the younger agents visited once

Jett lives for dramatic stories about betrayal, love and misunderstanding so she’s dying to see where the campaign leads

Killjoy

She was the first person to tell Clove to try getting a group together at the protocol knowing full well it would work

She’s obviously played for a long time, and been entrenched in geek culture as a result

Yordle named Suza with a whole lot of Hextech gadgets.  She is smol and the group protects her like a little sister

Potentially deranged though, she invents insanely big guns and uses them for just about everything

Killjoy cackles in her character’s airy voice as she releases a bunch of dice into a box and counts the damage numbers 

Is the most versed with rules because she’s played the game forever, and leverages it constantly 

Places artillery and gives advice to the party for combating certain creatures they encounter.  Essentially she plays both for the characters and because she likes wargames

“I understand that we might not have access to modern technology, but we could easily use magic to fabricate the parts of a Nanoswarm and use magic to then animate it!”

Has done makeup based on her character and shown up in clothing matching the aesthetic of Suza.  She’s dedicated to fully embracing it

Has one really big artillery cannon she wheels around called the Krieg that the party can use once in a while.  She rolls a ton of dice for the damage it puts out 

She instantly calculates rolls as well, and has a bit of a habit of metagaming because of that because she’ll run odds 

Doesn’t let that get in the way of her story though

Her character had a bunch of her own blueprints stolen by some Zaunites and she aims to take them back before they build machines of war from them

Met Raze’s character by getting saved by her in the first session.  The two are inseparable in game and in real life

Total dice goblin, like has an entire bag filled with them buried in one of her drawers

Uses a mixture of dice from rare events and collections, 

Her favorite are some that Raze made from pouring resin into a mold and hydro dipping in yellow and orange

Killjoy is glad Clove has the campaign because meeting a fellow nerd is always great 

Raze 

She plays a buff Chirean named Pearl that was part of the Firelight gang before leaving on her own quest

Has a hoverboard because of this and wields a length of pipe covered in razor wire.  Has a scavenger vibe to her 

Shamelessly flirts with Killjoy’s character at the table, and the party is FOR IT

“Hey Suza, I could really use some repairs to my board.  Mind coming over to the garage and giving it a look?” said while leaning in to a blushing Killjoy

Surprisingly gets really into character, playing a stoic badass that has a chaotic streak  She lowers her voice and shifts her body language to match the vibe

Also her character has a tendency to put people into headlocks and bearhug them.  This is acted out in real life

Pearl is surprisingly the heart of the group and has a tendency to sit with the characters and talk things out with them 

She ended up helping with Dysha and Monte’s own falling out by supporting them both and holding them together after they made up

Never misses a chance in game to ram her hoverboard into someone and punch them in the jaw.  She has a collection of gold teeth she’s knocked from other people

Her character introduced herself by nearly breaking Gekko’s wrist in an armwrestling competition

Draws all of the characters at one point in her free time.  The art caused so much hype when she unveiled it at the session

Her character is a bruiser, but a bruiser with a heart and a wish to see the world she knows become better

Raze’s own dice are partially on loan from Killjoy’s massive collection which happen to be her favorites

They are an assortment of dice that make a rainbow, each one being a different color and transparency

Killjoy taught her to play over the course of a few sessions with the group and the two sit together at the table because Raze would always want some help

It’s stayed that way for obvious reasons

Yoru

Was begged to join, and eventually relented for a few weeks before leaving and agreeing only to come back at the end of the campaign

He’s playing as a Voidborn swordsman, specifically inspired by old Samurai movies.  Yoru didn’t care about making a character but just took a pregenerated one off of Clove

Turns out, Clove knew how make a character Yoru didn’t hate playing.  Especially cause she gave him a cool backstory 

His character, Tets’ Uya, is the banished leader of an army of Voidborn.  After regaining some more power, he will get revenge for his banishment

Raze and Him frequently go on rampages in combat because that’s his favorite thing to do.  He usually finishes off enemies, so he gets to describe how he kills them

“I take the pirate captain by the throat and hold him over the ocean.  Tets’ Uya whispers, ‘you’ll do better as a corpse than as a captain,’ then he drops him in.”

Sick moments like that, especially because Yoru leans into the intimidation his character has and has the group back him up

Even though he sometimes gets bored out of his mind waiting for a turn, he pays enough attention while checking something else

After a while his character left the group because Yoru was done.  He returned his dice back to Clove and started a project in the garage 

A couple weeks later during a climactic battle between some Celestials and Zaunites, Yoru showed up with his character to back the group up for the final showdown

Clove went to hand him his dice, but he instead pulled out a tin of dice he bought himself

It was a cobalt steel set with machined Hiragana numbers instead of the standard numerals

His character and the group ended up killing a Celestial and wiping a squad of Chemtanks with some lucky rolls before declaring victory

Yoru doesn’t join often, but when he comes in as a guest, he’s more than welcome

(Bonus Content)

Cypher tries to play as a mage and would always roll really high on important stuff.  He has loaded dice he swapped in every couple of turns

Fade joined in as a Catfolk and scared Clove back to death when she got really into character during an interrogation.  

Viper doesn’t admit it to anyone, but she played D&D as a kid but found it hard to keep groups together

Omen tried to learn it but with his own stuff going on treated it more as a random occasion.  He joins in as a guest character that does healing stuff

XXXXX unironically loves playing as a knight that is sworn to kill giant monsters and dragons for the safety of the realm.  XX also yells at the dice if they roll low

[elrielsgarden]

Elain Archeron’s Dresser Drawer Through the ACOTAR Series

Each time the dresser Feyre painted for each of the three Archeron sisters is mentioned in the A Court of Thorns and Roses series, the descriptors for Elain’s drawer design changes slightly. The floral motif remains constant, but the specifics change every time, even in Feyre’s own descriptions.

This is of particular interest because SJM is remarkably talented at tracking and consistency when it comes to things like this. So, what are the descriptions of Elain’s dresser drawer, and what is the possible significance of this?

In A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre introduces the dresser to the fandom with these words about Elain’s drawer design:

Roses frequently symbolize love and beauty, which is beings to mind what Nesta recalls Mama Archeron saying in A Court of Silver Flames:

This quote also heavily foreshadows both sisters’ romance storiea, but besides that the words love and beauty are used side-by-side. Additionally, Papa Archeron carved a wooden rose for Elain.

Violets can symbolize love and innocence, and these flower choices, whether we know the symbolism or not, provide readers a certain sense of who Elain Archeron is: she is beautiful, delicate, and romantically inclined. For the story right now, this is all we need to know about Elain. Her storyline is in the very beginning stages, and this is the perfect setup.

In A Court of Mist and Fury Feyre describes the dresser drawers to Rhys; this is when he learns Feyre painted the night sky before ever having met him.

Roses are mentioned again, as are begonias and irises. The significance of these flowers lies in the fact that there are more described. We get more detail, just as we are slowly learning more about Elain. Irises also symbolize faith, courage, valor, hope, and wisdom—all of which we see in Elain’s character as the series progresses.

No mention of the dresser drawers appears in A Court of Wings and Ruin, but Elain bakes Feyre a birthday cake that she asks Nuala to help decorate in the design of the sisters’ dresser. This takes place in A Court of Frost and Starlight.

Besides “flowers” we don’t know what designs were on this tier of the cake, but the crucial aspect of this scene is that Elain remembered the dresser and saw meaning and significance in it.

Elain’s deep awareness of Feyre’s character really stands out here, as well as her carefully considerate nature, traits we see over and over in Elain. It also shows us that Elain sees herself as these flowers—not just Feyre. Elain, by doing this, states that she is indeed a flower-grower, a gardener.

Lastly, in A Court of Silver Flames, Nesta shows Cassian the Archerons’ cottage, and in his POV he describes Elain’s dresser drawer:

Cassian does not specifically name flowers, but who expects a general to do that? Besides, his focus is on Nesta. However, it is important to note that there are vines on the drawer this time. This calls to mind what SJM said about an experience gardening ivy became heavy research for Elain’s book. And then in this book, vines (of which ivy is a type) are used to describe Elain’s drawer. Ivy can represent eternity and fidelity, but it is far more likely that the ivy (and the way the plant creeps quietly) alludes to Elain’s possible future journey as a Night Court spy.

In conclusion, the flowers of Elain’s dresser drawer carry an ever-changing, or ever-growing, parallel to her character development as well as possible foreshadowing for a spy plot for Elain. 🌸

[heyo-428]

ACFTL Sneak Peak (Well, now I guess it’s a leak) Chapter Thoughts:

Spoilers below!!

This isn’t proofread if something is confusing please ask me in the replies for clarification

- The dedication to “anyone who ever wanted a second chance” is… almost ominous. On one hand it seems it’s like just a normal dedication but on the other it’s almost as if it’s a warning. Like Stephanie’s trying to warn a person who wants a second that it’s not always gonna end well.

- The story from the beginning about doorknobs was told before I believe and I think emphasizing this again is to allude to her ability to open doors with her blood. Will she figure this out again on her own? The doorknobs to what is rumored (The rumor’s probably true) to be the Valor children’s rooms in Wolf Hall spoke to her.

- Evangeline being absolutely lost is actually so sad to me. While I was reading the second page and it said she was feeling as if she couldn’t breathe I actually started to cry a bit. She’s in an unfamiliar location with no clue how she got there, when she got there, why she’s there.

- Her last memory is her father dying. 😭

- She doesn’t remember anything about Apollo but does remember there was something important she needed to say to someone. She doesn’t remember but it’s that she needs to tell Jacks she loves him. She slightly remembers Jacks even though she’s not able to attach a name to it. (I’m latching onto any hope I can)

- “Your memories were stolen by someone who’s been trying to tear us apart” Apollo if you don’t shut your ass up.

- “…and over his heart was a vibrant tattoo of two swords in the shape of a heart with a name in the center: Evangeline.” I CACKLED. THATS SO BAD 😭 IM DYING FROM SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT. She doesn’t really want you Apollo please give up.

- Apollo says that the marks on his back was the price he paid to return from Hell. Also the price Evangeline payed for your stupidity when you decided to get tortured😐 Who even tortured him? Or was it like done on purpose to have a story for why he came back. Doubt it’s the ladder because the curse wasn’t having him thinking right.

- Okay so Apollo’s not lying when he says Jacks put him in a suspended state but, Apollo, PLEASE calm down it’s not that deep. AND STOP LYING JACKS WOULD NEVER INTENTIONALLY HURT EVANGELINE

- Out poor boy Jacks is gonna have a difficult time in acftl 😭

- “You’re looking at me differently” he’s acting like she shouldn’t be…

- No Eva :((((( you didn’t trade your memories to be with him :(((( HE STOLE THEMMMM

- He makes her go back with him and then almost instantly leaves her. She is left as a shadow of herself because of him and he leaves her in her room to go handle matters. Like PLEASE how does Evangeline think this is okay.

- I- Stephanie please stop with mentions of arrows it reminds me of the fact Jacks is the Archer and what he’s been through (this is obviously why she’s doing this and i love and hate her for it)

- Wonder which door handles belong to which of the Valor children’s rooms. If what the rumors say is true. Feel like the one shaped like a dragon is Dane because he was a shifter and the one story LaLa told about him picking her up as a dragon or something. I’m not sure about the fairy wing one or wolf head with crown (maybe Aurora??) because we don’t know a lot about the Valor’s besides the basics. I am very excited to learn more though, they have a very interesting story.

- The fact Evangeline’s having to relive the grief she felt over the death of her parent’s because she doesn’t know it wasn’t very recent (thanks to her memories being stolen) is so tragic. I feel terrible for her :( It’s terrible having both your parents die but to have to deal with the grief twice?

- The door handles speaking to her is crazy because if I remember right known of the others ever did. I wonder why they do that. Probably because they’re old and from a family of people with magical gifts lmao. Plus Eva is literally a part of a prophecy connected to them. It’s gonna have some importance (hopefully)

- Really looking forward to learning again (or hopefully remembering) that she can open doors with her blood.

- Wait crazy theory, what if Stephanie’s making references to things from ouabh and tbona throughout the whole book? Like important things Evangeline forgot? That’s a bit of a stretch but I am writing this at 1 am so

- A few things have happened that are almost like deja vu/repeating history moments. If you think about it, it’s happened a lot throughout the books too. I’ll make a more in depth post on this at a later point.

- The maid Martine seems important. I don’t know what yet but there’s something. How could he just have moved so quickly from the Meridian Empire?? Something isn’t adding up especially her pause in speaking.

- “Her heart still hurt as if it had been broken” This is so sad Stephanie will be expecting many therapy bills after this book.

- It’s so upsetting that Evangeline can’t remember anything like our poor girl :(

- I don’t like this doctor but the helpers are odd

- Wait Evangeline is 17. I guess it makes some sense but like wow that’s crazy.

- I still really hate that reporter guy he’s annoying.

- Who is Yrell really because like why did they shut Telma up? There’s gotta be some reason.

- Okay okay the reporter guy just… disappeared? Like it was super quick too. wtf? How? Probably reading too much into this but how does he just disappear. It’s not like it would take a while to read that card there was nothing on it practically and then he just is gone.

- “He would carry her through more than freezing water” Eva darling that’s not Apollo that’s Jacks please remember 😭😭

- Apollo you are a monster not Jacks so stop lying. You removed Evangeline’s memories, you literally hunted her down and I do not care if you were cursed Jacks got over it before.

- He makes me SO mad. How can he so easily lie??

- APOLLO HAVING DADDY ISSUES

- He’s selfish to think a ton of people would make him monuments and stuff. Apollo you haven’t even done anything grand to help the people (that we know of) why would they do that?

- Who else knows Apollo took her memories? He says that someone does but that he won’t have to worry about them soon. No one else was right there and able to know? Right? I thought they were all in the Valory. It can’t be Jacks because it goes on to talk about Jacks directly after and it’s in a different manner.

- Crazy idea, what if because Apollo knows the Valor’s are out he thinks the one who’s able to see the future (Think his name is Vesper I don’t feel like looking right now) knows what he did 👀 I doubt it but.

- Apollo’s really upset over Jacks being better that he’s making reporter guy make his crimes uglier until he’s caught. He wants his name synonymous with vile, Apollo, you are synonymous with vile please shut the fck up <3

- Was it previously mentioned that the Great Houses have a council? I don’t think so but that makes sense I guess.

- Them talking about Luc attempting to steal the throne and calling him a whelp 💀 Where’d he run to? Back to Chaos’s? Kinda doubt that they have issues because Luc won’t listen to him or something. Wonder where he’s at and if he’s gonna be important this book.

- So funny to me that Wolfric Valor just shows up and is under the house of “Vale” like whose idea was that? It’s like the worst disguise ever Vale and Valor sound the exact same.

- How does Apollo know the Valor’s aren’t really dead? Unless it’s a secret that everyone in the Arcadian family line kept because Wolf Hall used to be the Valor’s.

- Am I the only one who doesn’t like Wolfric that much? I get bad vibes.

- Plus the whole betrothing his daughter to a dude named VENGEANCE

- I know he didn’t exactly know his name before betrothing her but you think he would’ve been like “uhm maybe not” HIS NAMES VENGEANCE I MEAN HE CAN’T BE GOOD

(Sorry had to rant about that because that whole story is absolutely wild to me)

- Who tf is Byron Belleflower. Like I know who he is he’s some lord but like who tf is that??

This whole thing probably doesn’t make sense I’m sleep deprived

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

im starting to think this story should be called 'bentley and all the girls he pulls by having the worst luck'

part eighteen

❝ THE WATER WILLOW ❞

MONDAY — JULY 23 — 1:01PM

THE REST OF BIOLOGY WAS A BLUR. All they did was go over the syllabus — what they needed for class and what they'd be doing over the school-year, nothing super important. Which was good, because Bentley spent the entirety of the class pretty much checking up on Bellamy. 

Earlier it had seemed like Bellamy specifically had a problem with their teacher, but after his moment in the hallway, he seemed... pretty fine with her. Even when she came to walk around and hand out sheets of paper. Which threw Bentley for a loop, because he was at least expecting a little visible discomfort from him when she got close, but there... wasn't any. And for some reason, it didn't sit right with him. Nothing about Bellamy and their teacher (whose name he'd learned was Ms. Dagnan) was really sitting right with him at all.

But then the bell rang, and he was able to put that whole situation behind him (for now) and head back to the Einstein building for lunch.

Every student had lunch at the same time, which made for a very chaotic, loud, and full cafeteria. Thankfully, Valor seemed to have snagged the same table they had that morning, because he, Rockie, Koa and Varian were at it as soon as Bentley and Bellamy walked in.

The rest of their roommates arrived shortly — they talked, ate, gossiped about life like teenagers do. Bentley listened, mostly — to some story of a kid falling down the stairs in Rockie's last class, to the ridiculous first day project Valor had to do in math. Bellamy sat right next to him quietly, and Varian, who had been sitting on the other side of him, fluttered around the cafeteria for almost the entire hour like a literal social butterfly, disappearing into other people's tables and then re-emerging to go to another. Koa had to call him over and remind him to eat his food about four times before he actually did.

During that hour, they'd determined that Bellamy had his next class with Valor, who was more than willing to (literally) take him under his wing for the period. Bentley was also made aware that his next class was the only one he had with Asten all day — music theory.

(Yay?)

Bentley wasn't at all musically inclined like Asten. Asten was able to play literally every instrument he put his hands on, but Bentley — well, he just chose the class because it sounded like the most enjoyable option left. Not because he could actually do anything with instruments.

The bell rang for fifth period, and Bentley, thankful that Bellamy was in capable hands, walked with Asten to the Shakespeare building.

It was on the far, back end of the campus, so the walk was a little longer — but still not anything like his and Koa's run-to-beat-the-bell distance from breakfast.

They were probably some of the last students to arrive. The music classroom was a large and semi-circle in shape, and the entire curved wall was covered with a giant, long window. As opposed to the halls of the Shakespeare Building, which had hardwood and wainscoting like the rest of the campus, the music room floor was grey carpet, and the walls had a similar carpet-like texture that climbed almost halfway up them like the wainscoting in the halls. The room was covered with colorful instructional posters, and around it sat various instruments, music stands, and chairs with no desks spread about in no specific order. 

In the center of the room sat a massive white grand piano, and Asten's eyes caught on it as they made their way inside.

Bentley glanced between the students, finding the boy who'd thrown the paper at Koa in the far corner, and a few others he recognized from previous classes. His gaze, however, finally settled on a familiar purple-and-black-haired girl whose face curved into a smile as soon as she saw them.

"Thank goodness! I was afraid I wouldn't know anyone in here," Vera said, gesturing to a few empty chairs to her right. "I didn't know you were into music, Red."

Bentley shrugged, making his way to the chair next to her. She was wearing a button up, vest, and blazer just like him, but on the bottom she had a pleated, checkered skirt of green and gold and these really tall socks that climbed nearly up to her knees. She was wearing a pair of shiny, black penny loafers. (Steph was obsessed with penny loafers. Personally, Bentley thought they were a little ugly. But the school ones weren't so bad, he guessed.) She had her hair pulled up into two black and purple buns on top of her head that reminded him of cat ears.

He draped his bag over the back of the chair as he sat down to her left, and Asten did the same on the other side of him. 

"I'm not, really. It just sounded better than cooking class," He replied, and Vera snickered.

"Why? Because girls are the ones who should be in the kitchen?"

Bentley cocked a brow at her snug smile. "No, because I'm a terrible cook."

"Of course you are, you have a battalion of butlers that cook for you," She said with a snicker, swinging her foot back and forth where she sat. "I'd be shocked if any Wayne could work a toaster."

"Actually, there's only one butler," Bentley said, shooting her a fake glare. "And we can all use a toaster."

He heard Asten snicker from beside him. "No, Bruce can't."

"Okay, Bruce can't. But we can," Bentley finalized, glancing between Asten and Vera, and she chuckled.

"I'll believe it when I see it,"

"Thank God,"

Bentley glanced behind him, back at the door, and Rockie was there, just having entered the room. He tossed his bag on an empty chair next to Asten. "I was getting tired of having classes with nobody."

"Good morning, class!" 

All the students quieted when a woman stalked through the door — she was wearing the same mandatory uniform, but her hair was dark and burned into long curls all down her back. She was pretty small, probably comparable in height to Vera, and could easily pass as a student if she hadn't been wearing a teachers uniform.

Rockie quickly sat down in his chair, and the woman seemed to be doing a headcount, because her eyes bounced between every child, lingering on some. Or maybe she was just being weird.

"I'm Mrs. Hastings, welcome to music theory!" She said with a smile, clapping her hands. She had big blue eyes that reminded Bentley of Dick. "We're actually going to be starting out class outside today, for a little get-to-know-me introduction! We'll give the rest of the students a few moments to roll in and then we'll be heading out near the pond on this beautiful day!"

The teacher sent them all one last smile, before walking over to her desk and fiddling with the computer.

Bentley glanced over at Vera when she sighed loudly from her seat. She turned to them, leaning forward so she could see Asten, too. "She does this every year. We have to show off our powers."

"Oh," Bentley muttered, glancing over at Asten, who glanced back. Bentley guessed a good way to get to know someone at a metahuman school would be to know their superpowers, but he also... well, he'd never used them in front of so many people. There was still a little voice that lingered in the back of his mind that told him superpowers were taboo. He had to keep them under wraps in public and anytime he could be on camera, and now, they were just... free to use them whenever they wanted. It was weird.

"Well, B, you've got a whole pond out there to play with," Asten said, patting Bentley's shoulder. "Better do something epic."

Bentley glanced blankly at him. "Thanks."

A mere moment before the late bell rang, Summer and Georgia jogged into the classroom. Their uniforms matched Vera's, but Summer had her blazer off and thrown over her arm, and Georgia's skirt was rolled at the top to make it more scandalous. (Which didn't take much, seeing as she was already kind of tall.) Her hair — which Bentley had never seen out of its braids — was down, silky and straightened pin-straight with an iron, while Summer's was half-up and curled.

He couldn't help but cringe internally when they walked in, and as much as he didn't want to think about what he'd overheard, he did anyways.

And, to make him feel even worse about it all, Rockie perked up about five joy levels when Georgia came in -- his face and eyes glowing in a way Bentley had never seen before. Like she made him... really, really happy.

Georgia smiled and bounced on the balls of her feet when she spotted him, making her way to the empty chair next to him with an excited sound that made Bentley's stomach churn. She was smiling at him, that big glowing smile that had made Asten speechless at the diner.

(Speaking of, Asten was very, very obviously not looking at her, but fiddling with his tie instead.) 

Bentley watched as Georgia plopped down beside Rockie and the two immediately began to speak in hushed tones, like any other high school couple. It made Bentley sort of sick when Georgia reached over and ruffled his hair like he was her's, like she wasn't actively cheating on him goodness knows when in goodness knows how many ways. She didn't even seem to care. The smile never left her face, her eyes never flicked around guiltily, her expression never faltered.

She didn't care that she was cheating on Rockie, and that terrible truth decided to gnaw on Bentley's psyche like an acid. (Why wouldn't it?)

"Alrighty, I think that's everyone! Let's head outside!" Mrs. Hastings announced excitedly.

The whole class moved from their seats and made their way back to the doors of the building, where Mrs. Hastings led them out and around until they were in a nice sunny spot next to the large, greenish pond. Bentley, who was at the back of the group with Asten, Summer, and Vera, tried his best to ignore the fact that Rockie and Georgia were holding hands right in front of them (Even with the giant fancy glove things he had to wear.) Asten wasn’t even allowing himself to look at her, but stared dutifully at the grass instead.

“How cute,” Vera mused in a flat, sort of emotionless tone. Bentley glanced over at her, and she flicked her brown eyes toward the couple.  “They never leave each other alone. It’s kind of gross.”

“Yeah, they… really… like each other,” Summer replied from Vera’s other side, Brushing her blonde hair away from her eyes, and Bentley didn’t miss the cringe that caught on her face for a half-second when she looked up at Georgia. Maybe, if he was lucky, Summer would give it all away before he had to do any secret-telling. How long was he supposed to hold onto that information for? It wasn’t his to share. Was there a point where it became his to share? Where was the line?

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who still thought the grass was very interesting. Any semblance of positive emotion had been completely wiped from his features, and while he was keeping his blank expression tight under wraps, Bentley could still decipher the miniscule hint of feelings on his face -- anxiety, guilt, shame, anger.

Bentley wished he could help, but he wasn’t even supposed to know Asten had kissed her in the first place. How would he have helped, anyways? Back at the Manor, most problems could be solved by using the cowl, or, if it was an emotional problem, all they had to do was sic Dick on them and they’d be laughing within the hour. Everything was out in the open -- there weren’t secrets, not anymore, not since Bentley had nearly died for them. But everything here at school was… hush-hush, and secret, behind closed doors. And Bentley wasn’t quite sure when those doors became his to open; if they ever did.

So, Bentley did the thing he was best at. He kept his mouth sewn shut.

Their class settled in the bright sunlight on the edge of the pond, where Mrs. Hastings came out in front of them and clapped one hand against a clipboard excitedly. “Alrighty! I do this with my kids every year and they think it's really fun! Everybody’s going to get a chance to show off their superpowers!”

The class broke into a few moments of quiet chatter, but Bentley said nothing. He just sort of glanced at Asten, Summer, and Vera, who also glanced around. He didn’t look at Rockie or Georgia.

“We’ll just go down the attendance list here, starting with…” She trailed off, glancing down at the clipboard in her hand. “Tyler Abbott!”

To Bentley’s surprise, it was the guy who was rude to Koa that moved from the group, coming out in front of them all with a smug look on his face. He sort of reminded Bentley of Jesse Todryk, the way he moved, the way he carried himself -- who Bentley’d pretty much removed from his memory files until that very moment. It made him cringe.

"Buckle your seatbelts,"

The whole class seemed to watch in quiet anticipation as he lifted one hand. The ground near him rumbled with a low noise, and vines and roots came sprouting up out of the grass at his will, growing bigger and twisting and turning until they finally settled into a massive, green weeping willow. Colorful wildflowers and weeds blossomed from nowhere around the base of the tree, spreading as far as for a few stragglers to grow around Bentley's feet. The flowing tree limbs sprouted bright yellow blossoms, and yellow petals fluttered down from them like a movie scene, blowing across the grounds in the light breeze.

“Wow!” Mrs. Hastings praised, but Tyler already had a triumphant look on his face. He took a bow like actors did at plays, then retreated back to the group with a really cocky look about him.

Bentley watched as a few more kids went -- a boy who made it rain momentarily, a girl whose scream created a shockwave that blew every single yellow petal off of the willow tree. After about six people, Mrs. Hastings called:

“Asten Evans!”

Bentley, Vera, Summer, Rockie, and Georgia all glanced over at him, which he didn’t seem to appreciate, given he was trying really hard to look at nothing but the ground. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, and for a few moments… nothing happened. 

In the quiet, the class seemed to grow more restless, a few students glancing around in case something was going to barrel out of the shadows. Bentley just stood and watched -- watched as Asten’s expression changed minutely a few times, watched him glance down at his hands. He seemed uncomfortable, jittery, even, which was something Asten hardly ever became. He looked back at Bentley, who smiled reassuringly, and then his eyes flicked to Vera, and Summer, and Rockie.

And then they landed on Georgia.

And suddenly, with a whoosh of flame and a gust of wind louder than any fire Bentley had heard since half of Gotham burned, the entire willow tree exploded into violent, volatile, roaring flames, so hot they were blue. The brightness of the massive fire seemed to make even the sun’s light seem dim, and he was pretty sure the resulting wave of heat nearly set his hair on fire.

The entire class seemed to ooh and ah at it, Mrs. Hastings in particular, who fell into another bout of very excited clapping. 

Asten retreated to his spot next to Bentley, and the flames died as quickly as they’d come -- though what was left of the tree was nothing more than a solid black, smoking hunk of wood. A few of the branches cracked and fell off, leaving it looking like one of those creepy dead trees from scary movies.

“Wow! That was amazing!” Mrs. Hastings announced, a giddy smile on her face. “Who’s next?! Oh, right, I have the list. Ha!”

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who glanced over at him. He sent him another reassuring smile -- because what else could Bentley even do? -- Asten smiled vaguely back, but took to mostly staring at the ground.

The next friend of his who got their name called was Vera, who didn’t even move from her spot. She merely looked around, and then her voice came in his head: “I’m telepathic.” And the whole class jumped and flinched like she’d said it to everyone. Mrs. Hastings made a big deal out of it, of course, slapping her clipboard in surprise.

Summer was right after her — though she didn’t actually do anything. She sort of just glanced around, then cleared her throat and said: “Well, I can’t do it right now, but when someone’s injured, I can heal them. Uh, wounds only, though — not like, diseases or sickness or anything.”

“Well that’s very cool, Summer!” Mrs. Hastings was quick to announce.

There was a girl who could turn invisible after her, and a few more, who Bentley didn’t pay much attention to. Probably because Rockie and Georgia were whispering to each other really close to each other’s faces right next to him and it made him feel awkward.

“Georgia Vallie!”

When it was her turn, Georgia plastered on her blinding smile and stepped out in front of the group, finally separating herself from her boyfriend.

“Watch your eyes,” She half-warned with a smirk. She lifted her hand to the sky and, with little to no effort, a giant lightning bolt arced down to the remainder of the charred willow tree with a crack! and a blinding flash, both of which left Bentley’s ears ringing and vision slightly hazy. He felt the electricity pass over his body, buzzing across his skin and lifting his hair.

“Wow!” Mrs. Hastings yelled, rubbing at her eyes, as did much of the class. “That was amazing!”

The willow tree was now reduced to a mere stump, black, charred, and smoking. Judging by the way Tyler was scowling, he wasn’t very pleased everyone was using his handiwork as a target.

“Bentley Wayne!”

It took Bentley a few seconds to realize she’d called his name. When he did realize it, though, he glanced at Asten and then took a tentative step forward, toward the remnants of the willow tree.

As long as he didn’t have a sudden panic attack, he’d be fine. Right?

He tried his best to ignore the fact that he could feel eyes crawling all over him, and focused, hard — though not too hard, because apparently he couldn’t handle that. A few dozen heartbeats started thudding in his head, blood moving with a soft whoosh through everyone’s veins. He turned his gaze to the large, green-tinged pond — there had to be thousands and thousands of gallons there, all moving gently, slowly, in response to the faint breeze, the fish, the pulse of the earth.

He was pretty sure Mrs. Hastings made a squeak of excitement when water began to slither out of the pond like snakes, moving through the grass toward the stump. When it reached it, it spiraled up the outside and began forming a new tree. More strands of water came to join the rest, floating from the pond through the air toward the stump, and Bentley focused really, really, really hard. So hard he only really snapped back into reality when Mrs. Hastings screeched: “Outstanding!”

When he looked at the stump, it was in the middle of a weeping willow made entirely from water, much larger than the first. The branches and flowing leaves were glimmering in the sun, casting a greenish light onto the ground that shifted as the water swirled.

“Incredible!” She continued with a clap, brushing her hair behind her ears. "Amazing!"

Bentley stepped back, and the water-willow folded in on itself and began to retreat back to the pond. The heartbeats and whooshing and swirling slowly faded from his ears, and he breathed easy.

(He'd done it without humiliating himself.)

Asten punched him lightly in the back. “That was cool, dude.”

Bentley glanced back at him, then moved back until he was beside him. “Thanks.”

When he glanced back up, he caught Summer’s eye, who gave him a thumbs up. 

“That was really pretty,” Vera said from his right, and he sent her a light smile, which she returned readily.

Bentley didn’t notice how Tyler Abbott was giving him a death glare.

"Finally, Rockie Winchester!"

Rockie didn’t really step forward when his name was called, he just glanced at the teacher, holding up his gloved hands. “I take superpowers away,” He said simply.

“Ah, yes! Well, very good for self defense!” Mrs. Hastings said with a smile. “And that’s everyone! Just in time, too, class is about to end! Let’s get back to the room and gather your things!”

They began walking back, and Bentley cringed when he saw Rockie and Georgia holding hands again. Summer seemed to have a similar reaction, because as soon as she glanced at their intertwined fingers, she looked away.

Yeah... maybe she'd spill the beans before Bentley had to.

—

They made it back to the classroom just in time for the bell to chime.

“Finally, free period,” Rockie mumbled, as he grabbed his bag out of his chair.

“Yeah, Bentley and I have it, too,” Asten replied. Bentley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, as did Vera, Summer, and Georgia.

“Lucky. I have math,” Vera whined with a frown. “Math. I’m not good at math.”

“Don’t forget to sign up for the dance on your way out if you’re interested!” Mrs. Hastings yelled over the post-class chatter.

Bentley furrowed his brow, glancing at Asten and Rockie, who were walking out of the room next to him, while the three girls settled together in a trio behind them.

“You have to sign up for the dance?” Bentley questioned, glancing over at them.

Rockie snickered, though it seemed well-natured enough that Bentley assumed he wasn’t making fun of him. They went single-file through the door and then grouped up again in the primped, perfected Redwood Academy halls. “No, the school lets students play it if they audition. There's quite a few little bands and stuff here.”

“Oh,” Was what he replied. Students played the music at the dance. That was cool, he guessed -- not that he knew much abut how cool school dances should've been. 

Suddenly, his phone started to vibrate -- when he fished it out of his pocket, he really expected a name like Dick or Bruce, calling to ask how his day was going. (They knew he’d be going to free period, because they knew his schedule.)

Instead, the name he found plastered on his screen was an unknown number, with a New York area code.

The only unknown number with a New York area code who knew Bentley’s phone number, besides spam, he guessed, would be…

Bellamy.

“I’m gonna take this real quick, I’ll find you,” He said to Asten, who nodded, but couldn't really conceal the brief concern that flashed in his green eyes. Bentley glanced around -- the only classes in session seemed to be coming from the same direction they were, because the hallways that branched off in front of them were completely empty.

Bentley quickly split off into one -- it was lined with classroom doors, but no one was coming out of them, and he vaguely saw Asten, along with Rockie and the girls, leave through the big front doors of the Shakespeare building.

He tapped the green button and held it up to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a moment of silence, and then a voice, very much not Bellamy’s, came: “Turn around.”

Bentley felt his heart sink at the order, but did so anyways -- and he didn’t even have time to as much as blink before he was shoved roughly into the wainscoted wall by a figure much larger than him. His phone slid from his hand, clattering on the hardwood, and even with his bag there to provide a little cushion, the air was knocked clean out of him.

“So you’re the little asshole who gave the class a show in first period. Funny guy,” 

Tyler Abott was in Bentley’s face, his expression stoic and hardened with something like rage. Bentley didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? His heart was suddenly beating three times faster than it had been and Tyler was pushing really hard on his shoulders in a way that would probably bruise. He raised his brows at Bentley’s silence, a smirk filtering across his face.

“Not much for talking, huh? Fine, I won’t be either,”

Bentley hardly had time to process anything other than a flashback of Jesse Todryk’s vomit green eyes before, in what seemed like a millisecond, Tyler had literally punched him across the face. Pain exploded across the left side of head, and he thought the sheer force alone would have knocked him flat over if Tyler didn’t grab the collar of his shirt in a death grip and shake him like a snow-globe. He shoved him into the wall again, hard enough for the back of his head to clack against the wood. Bentley could feel blood on his left temple -- that's about when he realized Tyler was wearing rings.

“I know you're new here, Wayne, so I’ll give you time to learn your place,” He all but growled in Bentley’s face. “But if you ever decide to-“

“Tyler?”

Bentley had never been happier to hear a girl's voice in his entire life.

Tyler whipped around, and Bentley glanced down the hallway, his eyes coming to rest on Summer, who was standing on the other end of it. She had her bag on her back and her blazer in her hands, watching him incredulously.

Tyler promptly let go of Bentley's shirt, and then had the audacity to smooth down his collar. "Summer, hi, you... uh, you look nice today."

Summer walked down the hallway toward them, her concerned gaze flicking from him to Bentley. "Do I?"

"Of course! You look good every day!" Tyler exclaimed, still fiddling with the collar of a shirt that was very much not his. Summer raised an eyebrow, and Bentley watched with secondhand embarrassment as the scene payed out in front of him, Tyler releasing his shirt and wiping his hands on his pants.

The bully just sort of smiled crookedly at her for a while, and finally, he cleared his throat and started off with a quick: "Well, I'm going to go now!"

"I think that's a good idea," She replied, and he jogged away with a few glanced back toward them.

Bentley and Summer watched him fade into the distance, before turning down another empty hall.

(First day of school and Bentley had already been punched in the face. That had to be some kind of record, he was sure.)

Summer snickered, leaning down and picking up Bentley's phone. "What a simp."

Bentley said nothing, but took his phone when she handed it to him. She exhaled, her warm brown eyes flicking across his face, and she brushed some of her blonde hair out of her eyes. "Are you okay? It... looks like his ring got you."

"I've been worse," Bentley replied. Before he could produce more words, Summer brought her hand up to touch his face, her thumb lightly grazing over where Bentley felt the familiar warmth of blood.

"Here, stay still," She ordered, and Bentley had nothing else to do but obey.

She brought her other hand up to his chin and turned his head sideways, then took a deep breath and blew it out, seeming to prepare herself.

Bentley glanced up at her when she started to ever-so-gently brush her fingertips against the side of his head where he'd been hit, her brown eyes tracing the spot carefully. She started at his temple and softly dragged her fingertips all the way down to his jawline, a cool, almost tingly sensation blossoming in their wake. The pain in his head and on his face seemed to flee at her touch, and she repeated the motion, so delicately her touch felt like nothing but wind.

In a few seconds, the coolness disappeared, and it took any semblance of pain with it. He didn't even feel the blood on his face anymore.

Summer glanced at him, her dark eyes meeting his for a few quiet seconds. Then she cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink as she removed her hands from his face. "I, uh, you're... good as new."

Bentley brought a hand up to touch where he'd been hit, satisfied that no pain erupted there, and blood didn't even come away on his fingers. "Thanks, Summer."

Summer smiled, and her brown eyes seemed to twinkle. He didn't miss the way her face went just a hint of a shade darker when he said her name.

"You're welcome."

--

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser @skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[sun-marie]

9 and 19 from fifty more rook questions?

fifty (more) rook questions (w/ spoilers) <3

9. A sweet scene between Rook and their LI(s):

The day before talking with Morrigan about the final eclipse assault, Rook took Lucanis to her favorite spot in Rivain, a small cove on the coast of the Hall of Valor. When the sun goes down, it reflects on the water in such a way that the sea itself appears a vibrant orange and violet, then becomes almost sepia for a brief moment before fading back to a dark blue. When Lydia first discovered the area as a child, she made it part of her routine to try and catch the sea at this specific moment at twilight, and she told Lucanis that she wanted to share that part of herself with him. They sat in each other's company for a while, enjoying some drinks (Rook also tried to convert him to her favorite tea, but brought backup coffee just in case)

19. A scene from book club (or another group activity):

Rook: ...so yeah, this book is whatever, but there was that part with the dragon -

Lucanis: Of course you liked the part with the dragon.

Rook: Uh, yeah? Dragons always make a story more exciting, you can't go wrong. Anyway, at the end, i liked how it described the baby dragons flying off into the sunset.

Bellara: Oh, I know, right? Especially the part about the new gold sheen on them. Their wings, I mean.

Rook: Yeah, exactly!

Emmrich: I appreciated the narrative flow of the story, a fine balance of scenes both heartwarming and gripping. The characterization of the villain could have used some improvement, though.

Lucanis: You didn't like him? I found him impressively hateable. Every time the villagers came to him for help he just twirled his mustache and laughed.

Emmrich: Yes, but unfortunately that is all he did. I did not get a sense of any larger inner conflict.

Lucanis: *shrugs* He is the villain.

Rook: What I don't get about this book is why they focused so much on the hero's dad. He never even found him!

Bellara: What do you mean? The wise old man from the beginning was his father.

Rook: ...

Emmrich: ...

Lucanis: ...

Bellara: ...

Rook: He was what now.

Lucanis: Mierda, mi amore, are you serious?

Emmrich: The scene at the climax, when they discover their matching birthmarks? And Merloth was hit with, quote, "a sudden intense realization of the man's true identity, at his side through it all"?

Bellara: Wait, hold on, Rook, did you really not know?

Rook: ...This is the greatest book I've ever read.

Lucanis: We are doomed.

[a-driftamongopenstars]

in the after hour; inquisitor x blackwall ficlet

needed to write my beloved Sylani Lavellan and Blackwall together again, so here's a little ficlet after the events of the Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts :) a lot of guilt, some romance, some tension. the good stuff! also on ao3

It is strange that the night goes on after history has been made. Just some hours ago, Blackwall watched the Inquisitor prevent a coup and end a civil war in Orlais. She stood there, facing down the nobility, terrifying and bold. With her resolve and quiet fury, the night should have stopped in its tracks. The moons should have shone high and bright for as long as she wished for it. If she could order about an Empress, surely she could command nature itself. 

Yet, the clocks are ticking and the stars are gleaming and the moons hurry away behind the clouds. 

In the quarters assigned to the Inquisition, servants move around near invisible. There is weariness in the air, the smell of rich sweet wine. Cullen has long left for his room. Leliana is upholding Josephine by her arm. Poor Lady Ambassador is in no state at all, sputtering between amazement and frustration at all the work that is to be done tomorrow, and the day after, and more. The Inquisition has yet again meddled in all things political, exercising its will. 

“You don't need to do anything right now, Josie,” Leliana reassures her, guiding her away.

Dorian is quietly sipping a small mug of hot wine by one of the fireplaces, Vivienne beside him, joined in a quiet conversation. 

Inquisitor sits alone by another fireplace, her chin resting in her hands. Warm light flickers over her, highlighting the tiredness that set into her bones and skin. Her black hair is flowing down her shoulders, an elaborate updo undone, tiny red gems still flickering, woven in. 

“My Lady?” he asks, approaching, and she moves to make space on a cushioned bench. The folds and skirts of her dress whisper softly against the plush of the seat. Her lips turn into a warm smile of welcome, all for him, a rare sight for any other. 

“I can't decide if going to sleep is worth it anymore. It's almost sunrise.”

“You've done the impossible today. I think it has earned you a sleep in, at the very least.”

Sylani smiles and lets out a small sigh. 

“The impossible, huh.”

She gives the room a quick glance before leaning closer. Blackwall cannot help but admire the shine of her big eyes as she looks at him. His heart fills with quiet joy and yearning. If only the Winter Palace did not have eyes in every wall and corner, if only those walls did not listen. He would have kissed her. He would have made a beautiful mess of her red lips. Some part of him still wants to do it, caring little for those eyes in the walls.

“Speaking of the impossible… You've never told me. About the Silverite Wings of Valor.”

Blackwall feels a whiplash of warmth against his cheeks and coldness creeping up his spine. A sensation all too familiar. 

“I can only imagine the story behind that,” she adds. Staring up at him, admiration and awe in perfect mixture. She wants to know, she wants to drop the walls he built around himself, to get to the core of him. She wants to share in his bravery, to be proud of him.

If only she knew how close she was to making it happen. But sometimes even the most appetising fruit has a rotten core.

Blackwall takes her hands in his, her delicate calloused fingers looking so beautiful against his crude scarred palm. 

“A tale for another time, my Lady. It is not prudent to celebrate my victories when yours take precedent.”

He brings her hand to his lips, hating himself with every fibre of his being. Another lie. Another stone upon his consciousness, threatening to cause a landslide should it all come to light. When. 

Sylani’s free palm rests against his cheek. It's warm, divine and holy. He kisses it where the anchor rests, judging him by Andraste’s mercy. 

“Will you join me?” she whispers, her lips barely moving. “In my rooms?”

Oh the sweet tantalising dream. To have her in the heart of the Empire he used to kill for. To have her, loving and making love to her. To protect her from anything that would disturb her sleep. To be the man she deserves. 

To simply be with her. 

“Are we to become the talk of the Winter Palace, my Lady? That is one certain way to make it happen,” he chuckles.

Sylani returns a soft laugh. 

“I think they have enough to discuss after tonight. But very well. Come watch the sunrise with me, at least?”

She is not letting go of his hand, curling hers over his fingers. There is strength in her and resolve. The steel he has in his sword, but not in his spine.

“That I can do, my Lady.”

He presses his lips to her hand once again, eyes closed.

[lukedanger]

Owlcatober - Day 5 - Forgiveness (WotR)

Fifth day of @owlcatober

[Ao3 Link]

“I thought you’d be celebrating with Arueshalae.”

Elaina looked to the side, grimacing as she had to lower her right wing to see properly. Seelah, with two bottles in hand, one of which was already uncorked.

“Who’s to say we haven’t already?”

The other paladin chuckled, settling down on the ledge next to her. The army - both the celestial reinforcements they had brought to Iz and the mortal one they had managed to extract from the ruined city - was camped around a small plateau which was used as its center. The Sword of Valor flew proudly above, alas still not returned to Iomedae’s colors and crest even as it bathed the camp in heavenly light.

“So, that’s a second demon lord to your tally,” Seelah continued as she handed one of the bottles to her. 

Elaina gave the common ale a quick sniff, then took a drink. “You say it like I was the only one fighting them. The Holy Wardens contained Baphomet, and I seem to recall Deskari being brought low by a couched lance while I was pinned against a building.”

Seelah shrugged at first, loudly thanks to her plate harness, but smiled. “It’ll be a good story for the next fair, then. Might even be a good painting one day.”

They fell into relative silence, especially in contrast to the rest of the camp in various states of good spirit. Some of it were happy songs and reunions, others were in joyful tears as celestials walked among the crusaders again, and in strength rather than just the Hand’s select company or those summoned by clerics.

One angel was coming from the camp, clad in black robes with bronze trim, a halo like a north-south compass overhead as he (they?) glided over the ridge and landed several meters past them. Both paladins looked back and saw that they were striding towards the Sword of Valor. Or, perhaps, towards the former inquisitor kneeling beneath it.

“Balisse, right?” Seelah asked as she turned back.

Elaina nodded.

“Guess he needs a lot of forgiveness,” Seelah shook her head. “Speaking of that - are you really burying the hatchet with the Queen?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I remember how angry you were in the Abyss,” Seelah explained as she leaned forward. “Even with my own problems I could tell it hurt. You don’t have to actually forgive her, even if you gotta play politics.”

“I know,” she admitted, feeling her new wings flap in anticipation. “But what she said, back at the library? That was the last few pieces.”

“Come again?”

“You’re right, it did hurt. I had looked up to her since the abbey - we all enjoyed imagining ourselves a hero like her, Yaniel, or Zacharius. I had archived it away with all the other ‘what if’ dreams I had as a child, then, well,” Elaina held out her free hand, the light of Lariel’s sword materializing for a moment.

“You actually got to do it,” Seelah nodded as the light faded. “So, what she said about destiny and duty was what convinced you?”

“Somewhat,” Elaina admitted as she took another swig from her bottle. “Do you want me to walk you through it? It might be the easiest way to explain it.”

“Do I need to get Nenio first? For the Encyclopedia, of course.”

Elaina chuckled, “Maybe, but I’m sure she’ll pester it out of me later if she wants it.” The paladin sobered up. “At first I couldn’t understand it. What had I done wrong? Was it because of how I was trying to reform the Crusader ranks into something more cohesive? Was it Konomi, especially after she told me to treat Konomi’s words as her own?”

Seelah nodded along. She was well familiar with Elaina and Konomi going head to head over the Isger issue or the Knight-Commander endorsing the Royal Council, and how Sosiel’s suggested compromises were barely keeping things from escalating. The possibility that Galfrey had actually been in agreement with Konomi?

“In the end, you saw what she tried to use. Arueshalae and the Sword of Valor. As if the mission itself might not be enough to warrant it, temporarily. If we ever came back. I started to think the queen was more concerned about her own power, just like the Royal Council or the noble families. About being right rather than doing the right thing.”

“So what changed?”

“Something Yaniel said - that Galfrey was still much the same decades later, but broken. As if the decades had worn her down.”

Elaina took a long drink from her bottle. This was getting to the heart of the matter.

“You started to feel bad for her, didn’t you?”

“Somewhat,” Elaina admitted, “but I think what I really started to do was ask how she could have ended up like that. Started trying to see what I was doing from her perspective. Started thinking about some of the older brothers and sisters at the abbey, and how worn they were. How much worse is it for someone who has seen generations grow up and die under the shadow of the Worldwound? And without victories like Drezen along the way?”

“I get it: she was tired, then we showed up and yanked the rug out from under her, didn’t we?”

“Exactly. All while she was still stuck in the same rut of holding Mendev together while someone else won all the victories. And you know as well as I do how people refuse to consider keeping the Abyss contained a form of victory.”

“That’s the jealousy she mentioned,” Seelah was catching on now. “And after decades of just going through the motions, something in her snapped? She tried to step up again, but couldn’t as long as we were there. As long as you were Knight-Commander.”

“That was the last piece that put it all together. But I was already prepared to forgive her, because…” Elaina finished the bottle. “I would have been no better in her place. I hope I would be better, but if I had to go through the same thing? If I outlived all my friends and only had followers left? I probably would have made the same mistake.”

Seelah stayed silent, unsure of what to say in response to that. She settled for finishing her bottle as well.

[talonabraxas]

Shirdal 'Lion-Eagle' Talon Abraxas

Griffins Origin and Creation

Griffins, unlike many mythical creatures, don’t have a singular origin story rooted in a specific myth or tale. Instead, their existence seems to be an integral part of the world’s fabric since time immemorial. Their primary role as guardians of treasures and sacred realms is deeply intertwined with their nature and symbolism.

The Griffin’s association with the sun, particularly evident in their eagle component, suggests a divine or celestial origin. Eagles, revered in various cultures, symbolize the sun due to their ability to soar high and their keen eyesight that seems to “stare into the sun.” This solar symbolism aligns with the Griffin’s role as a protector of divine treasures. Just as the sun illuminates and nurtures the earth, Griffins, with their solar attributes, watch over and protect the treasures of the gods.

Furthermore, their guardianship extends beyond mere treasures. Griffins are often linked with sacred sites, especially those associated with Apollo, the sun god. Temples, altars, and other places of worship were considered sanctuaries in ancient Greece. The Griffin, with its vigilant nature, was seen as a symbolic guardian of these holy places. Their fierce demeanor and majestic presence served as a deterrent to those who might wish to desecrate these sacred spaces.

In essence, the Griffin’s origin is a harmonious blend of terrestrial might and celestial grace. They might not have a creator god or a specific myth detailing their birth. However, their consistent portrayal across tales and artworks suggests a deep-rooted belief in their existence and significance in the ancient world.

Depiction And Characteristics

Griffins are consistently portrayed as magnificent beings, boasting the body of a lion coupled with the head and wings of an eagle. This duality symbolizes mastery over both earth and sky. Their large, outstretched wings suggest a readiness to soar, while their vigilant eagle eyes are ever watchful. The lion’s robust physique embodies strength and valor, reinforcing their reputation as formidable guardians.

Griffins Nature and Abilities

Greek tales depict Griffins as noble and fiercely protective creatures. They don’t act malevolently but dutifully guard sacred treasures. A touching part of Griffin lore highlights their unwavering loyalty to their partners. People believe that Griffins mate for life, and when one dies, the other stays solitary, never seeking another companion.

Beyond their physical might, Griffins are attributed with exceptional eyesight, rivaling even the keenest eagles. This keen vision allows them to detect intruders from vast distances. Their mighty wings grant them swift mobility, and their lion-like strength renders them nearly invincible in combat. Some legends even whisper of the Griffin’s screech. It was a sound so piercing it could disorient or even immobilize those who dared to listen.

Griffins Symbols

Griffins are intrinsically linked to Apollo, often depicted guarding his treasures and sacred sites. Their dual nature, merging lion and eagle, signifies the sun and the heavens, realms overseen by Apollo. Moreover, their association with gold isn’t merely due to their guardianship of golden mountains. It is said that their very feathers are believed to shimmer like the precious metal, mirroring their divine essence.

Myths about Griffins

Griffins, with their majestic combination of the lion’s body and the eagle’s head and wings, have been a part of various mythologies, but their most notable tales come from Greek legends.

Griffin and Arimaspians: A Battle for Gold

The conflict between Griffins and the Arimaspians is a tale as old as time. Rooted in the vast gold deposits of Central Asia, this myth paints a vivid picture of the Griffins as fierce guardians of these treasures. The Arimaspians, a tribe of one-eyed people, were said to be in constant conflict with the Griffins, attempting to steal the gold that the Griffins so diligently protected.

The earliest classical writings about this conflict come from Aristeas of Proconnesus, a 7th-century BC Greek poet. His accounts, preserved by historians like Herodotus and Aeschylus from the 5th century BC, describe the Griffins as sharp-beaked creatures. However, their portrayal as “unbarking hounds of Zeus” led to speculations that they might have been perceived as wingless in these early tales.

The root cause of the conflict was the immense value and allure of gold. In ancient times, gold was not just a symbol of wealth but also of power and divinity. The Griffins, being part divine themselves, were seen as the rightful guardians of this precious metal. The Arimaspians, on the other hand, driven by their desire and perhaps necessity, constantly tried to raid these treasures, leading to epic battles.

This conflict wasn’t just a simple tale of good versus evil or guardians versus thieves. It symbolized the eternal struggle between the wild, untamed forces of nature (Griffins) and the ambitions of mankind (Arimaspians). The gold, in this context, can be seen as nature’s bounty. Moreover, the story serves as a reminder of the consequences of overreaching one’s boundaries.

[blueiscoool]

Silver Medusa Medal Found at Vindolanda

The snake-covered head of Medusa was found on a silver military decoration at a Roman auxiliary fort in England.

A nearly 1,800-year-old silver military medal featuring the snake-covered head of Medusa has been unearthed in what was once the northern edge of the Roman Empire.

Excavators discovered the winged gorgon on June 6 at the English archaeological site of Vindolanda, a Roman auxiliary fort that was built in the late first century, a few decades before Hadrian's Wall was constructed in A.D. 122 to defend the empire against the Picts and the Scots.

The "special find" is a "silver phalera (military decoration) depicting the head of Medusa," according to a Facebook post from The Vindolanda Trust, the organization leading the excavations. "The phalera was uncovered from a barrack floor, dating to the Hadrianic period of occupation."

Medusa — who is known for having snakes for hair and the ability to turn people into stone with a mere glance — is mentioned in multiple Greek myths. In the most famous story, the Greek hero Perseus beheads Medusa as she sleeps, pulling off the feat by using Athena's polished shield to indirectly look at the mortal gorgon so that he wouldn't be petrified, according to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

Roman culture drew on Greek myths, including Medusa's story. During the Roman age, Medusa was seen as apotropaic, meaning her likeness was thought to repel evil, John Pollini, a professor of art history who specializes in Greek and Roman art and archaeology at the University of Southern California, told Live Science. Pollini was not involved in the find at Vindolanda.

"From Greek times on, this is a potent apotropaic to ward off bad things, to keep bad things from happening to you," Pollini said. Medusa's serpent-surrounded head is also seen on Roman-era tombs, mosaics in posh villas and battle armor. For instance, in the famous first-century mosaic of Alexander the Great from Pompeii, Alexander is depicted with the face of Medusa on his breastplate, Pollini noted.

Medusa is also featured on other Roman-era phalerae, but the details vary. For instance, the Vindolanda Medusa has wings on her head. "Sometimes you see her with wings, sometimes without," Pollini said. "It probably indicates she has the ability to fly, sort of like [the Roman god] Mercury has little wings on his helmet."

Because phalerae were awarded for "valor in battle," military men would attach them to straps and wear them during local parades, Pollini said, noting that the discovery of the Vindolanda phalera is rare.

"There aren't very many of them, obviously, because they were a precious metal," he said. "Eventually, most of them were probably melted down."

Many phalerae are found in burials, but the Vindolanda one appears to be lost. "This isn't something you would toss away," Pollini said.

The silver artifact is now undergoing conservation at the Vindolanda lab. It will form part of the 2024 exhibition of finds from the site.

By Laura Geggel.