#the eternal silence of mountains and rivers

[guzhufuren]

you have heard of young rich lord falls for a crossdressing cold blooded assassin

now behold uncensored gay chinese wuxia collab 2.0: gentle prince meets assassin, to sweethearts to exes to (time skip) two enemy emperors who fuck

[utterlyotterlyx]

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - The bond snaps after a rather brutal breakup, and after witnessing you with another Vanserra, Azriel is trying to find a way to avoid being hurt once again.

Warnings - fluff, angst, pining, swearing, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad Az, happy ending (yay!)

Word count - 8.4k (oops)

Based on this ask

It had become so intense in the House of Wind that you had little to no choice in moving yourself to the River House. Between Nesta and Cassian's bustling sex life and the constant bickering arguments between Azriel and Elain, you decided that you needed some peace.

And fast.

Rhys had welcomed you at the door that day, his sort-of sister in arms surrounded by brown leather bags that he could almost envision you launching down the House of Wind steps just to escape as fast as possible. Flipping him off and smirking at his chuckle, you slipped around his form stood in the doorway and headed right to Nyx who was more than thrilled to see you, babbling incoherently and grabbing for you the moment you were in eyeshot.

"I take it that it's getting a bit loud over there?" Rhys turned to you, his shirt half unbuttoned and hands burrowed into his pockets. He was lucky. To have a mate and a child. To not have to live with the band of animals currently residing in the Night Court's most opulent residence.

"How am I supposed to get anything done wedged between that lot?" Nyx smiled at your cooing, lapping up all of your love and affection, "I'd much rather be here with my favourite prince."

Within minutes, your bags were taken upstairs by Rhys who was grumbling to himself about never being able to have any peace to which you blissfully quipped that you'd be out of his hair the moment he bought you a lavish apartment in the city. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it after all.

Your position within the Inner Circle was irreplaceable. Not only were you Rhys' childhood best friend, the only one he could truly depend on before Cassian and Azriel flew into the picture, but you were also known as a witch. A powerful celestial being that had the capability to destroy and create as you saw fit with an affinity to sky and water magic.

The scales could have tilted in the wrong direction had you truly taken up Amarantha's offer to be her pet, the only reason you had confined yourself to that chamber Under The Mountain was to make sure that Rhys survived, and you played your part well, just as you always had.

A break was needed, the air in the House of Wind was almost suffocating, and no amount of your power was able to drown it. Elain was spending more time with Lucien, her mate, and Azriel was not happy about it considering that they were meant to be in a committed relationship. The barking insults and shouting had become too much to bare, so intense that your own power was itching for release in order to silence them for at least a couple of minutes.

"They're going to break up, aren't they?" Rhys certainly wouldn't be the first to tell Azriel I told you so, but he'd certainly be thinking it when the Shadowsinger would inevitably return to the River House just like you had to escape the nightmare of his life.

Humming softly, sadly, you looked up at Rhys, your godson in your arms resting his head on your chest, "I think so. Az hasn't been himself lately."

It was true, your friend had become a shell of himself, wallowing in self-loathing and doubt, and you cursed Elain eternally for turning him into such a thing. How anyone could hurt Azriel was beyond your scope of realisation, he was perfect in every way, devoted, kind, caring, and definitely a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom if your ears served you right.

Being attracted to Azriel was a natural bodily response, you had told yourself at least, it was difficult to not want to jump the bones of the illustrious Shadowsinger who kept a watchful eye on your every step. Like he was waiting for his moment to swoop in and save you.

But you had never needed saving, and you never would.

Elain and you had never really gotten along, it wasn't as though you hadn't tried to be friendly with the Made sister, she just couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe her own abilities clashed with yours, perhaps she was terrified of you. You couldn't blame her, the idea of you was one that stalked travellers and gifted nightmares to the young.

A celestial witch. In the flesh.

Anyone who knew you well enough would be able to dispel any wrongful intent, but Elain was not one of those people.

"I did warn him," Rhys' finger drifted to hook itself around Nyx's outstretched hand, and he shook it gently as he continued on, "A mating bond is not something to get entangled with."

"Az needs us to be his friends right now, Rhys. A breakup on its own is awful, but when it's so close, when he's been waiting so long for it, it's bound to hurt."

A firm hand on your shoulder comforted you, you knew how tough it must be for Azriel to go through it, after how painful it was to hold out hoping that he would be enough to suddenly not be, "I know, Witchling," you scoffed at the nickname as you always had and always would, Rhys pressed a dainty kiss into your hair, like a brother to a newly born sister, "Whatever he needs, I'm here, and so are you."

If you had known what awaited you that week, you'd take the telling words back in a second.

Like you had guessed, Azriel moved back into the River House, residing in his own room across the hall from your own. And boy, was he a raincloud if you ever did see one. Even his shadows looked solemn, and they didn't have faces. Azriel looked positively awful, constantly messy hair, large bags of onyx that imprinted onto the skin beneath his usually warm hazel eyes that had turned into nothing but dark pools of heartbroken sadness.

In the night, you had heard him crying, you'd stood outside of his door, not saying a word, but hoping that he knew that someone was there for him even if he didn't want them to be.

You had tried to talk to him, to coax him out of his haze by offering to train with him, or walk with him along the banks of the Sidra, you'd even asked him if beating your ass whilst you wore a mask of Lucien would bring a smile to his face. Unfortunately, everything you had tried had failed you, and you were at a loss as to help your friend.

"Honestly Rhys, how do you reach anything in here?" Rhys was hovering in the doorway, eyebrow raised with delight as he watched you try and scale the countertops to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

There were chocolate chips for your cookies up there, and they had your name all over them.

"It's not my fault you're not Illyrian," his eyes darkened into a smirk, "Why don't you just hop onto your broomstick and fly?"

Even a silent Azriel emitted a gasp from his place on the opposite side of the centre island. If there was one thing you hated, it was being likened to the witches children sang about in their storybooks. It offended you how utterly unalike you were, and it made you seethe when someone, usually Rhys or Cassian, would use that hatred to rile you up.

"Oh," you stood on the countertop, towering over the High Lord by a few mere inches, "Is that why all of the doorways are so wide? Because your fat fucking head needs all the room it can get?"

Rhys stood speechless before you, the room fell silent.

Then a laugh.

Not yours of Rhys', you had to check it wasn't you making any noise before your eyes landed on the owner of the most joyful thing you'd heard in weeks.

A smile. Curled parted lips as a howling laugh ripped through them. Azriel's shadows danced to the sound, and his body shook with it. You could have cried, but you kept it together, you choked down your happiness to witness the momentary return of the one who meant the most to you.

It was no secret that you used to be Azriel's favourite. There was nothing that the two of you wouldn't do together, even if it was a medial task like taking you to the bakery or finding you a new Starfall dress that would make Mor dim in comparison. Azriel was always happy to come along. Until Elain, and then you had stopped seeing another, you'd drifted so far apart that he didn't even properly greet you anymore, all you were adorned with was a curt nod and tight lipped smile before Elain would whisk him away.

The male in front of you was nothing like that one, not in that singular glimmer of hope at least. Once his laughter died down, and a serene smile planted itself on his lips, Azriel opened his eyes and moved them to you, they glowed with something you couldn't quite understand, and then they widened. His eyes faltered. His smile faded.

Azriel gasped.

"Mate."

Darting your line of sight to Rhys, you pointed at him, flickering your gaze back to Azriel who had rose from his seat "Him?"

Rhys swatted your finger away, "I'm mated, y/n," Rhys glanced between you and took a step backward.

"So?" It couldn't be. Not right now. Not now.

"I can't do this," Azriel was struggling to breathe, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat beaded at his brow and his skin had paled.

Scrambling down from the worktop, you went to take a step toward him, one that he mirrored in the opposing direction, furling his wings behind his back and clawing his shadows into submission, "Don't, Az. I can go."

The visible wince of pain that shot through you was enough for Azriel to suck in a breath and disappear from sight. The bond was dull, a golden thread soaring across the night sky to meet a shield of inked darkness. Azriel had closed you off. Shut you out.

Silence befell the kitchen, the chocolate chips you had gotten from the top shelf now scattered across the dark oak wood beneath your bare feet. Rhys had never seen you cry, he almost thought it impossible, but then he saw that single tear roll down your cheek, he could feel the pain radiating from you from finding your mate for him only to run from you.

"Hey, it's alright," he wrapped you into his arms, shushing you softly as he ran his fingers through your hair to soothe the quiet sobs rattling your shoulders, "It's going to be fine, y/n. Azriel's just confused, he'll be thrilled soon. Just you wait."

The snap had been gentle, like you had just come home after a long day, like you'd stepped through the door to see everyone you had ever loved all in one place and he was at the epicentre of it. Safe. Warm. Perfect.

Being a witch, you were never sure how life would look for you. Not even the cauldron understood your kind, you had always thought that perhaps the cauldron overlooked your species for the things most pure, like mating bonds and children. Witchlings were rare, you were the lone example of it, perhaps a part of you thought that you weren't allowed to have any love or joy, that you weren't good enough for it.

And there it was right in front of you, with the male a part of you had always yearned for, dancing in ash.

In the weeks that followed, Azriel did all he could to avoid you. No reason was good enough to make Azriel even glance in your direction let alone utter anything to you.

It had gotten to the point where you had asked Rhys for the keys to the cabin, you packed up your things and stepped through time to stand on that cold wooden floor with moonlight drifting through the small square windows.

You’d never thought that you could ever feel so alone, but as you stood there in a cabin so cold that you could see your own breath, the loneliness certainly began to set in.

There was little else to do other than light a fire to warm the little cabin on the outskirts of the city and run a bath; the tub was surrounded by candles, the ottoman at the foot of it was full of scented oils and salts which made your heart flutter. At least if you were to wallow in your own heartbreak you’d be able to do it smelling like the ocean surrounded by candlelight.

Bubbles crept up your neck as you sank into the wooden tub, it should have been a tranquil moment for you, but it was far from it in reality.

Az, please. Just talk to me. I'm still y/n, I'm still your friend. Things don't have to change.

Instead of enjoying the alone time like you should have considering that it was rare to have a minute of peace in a city full of needy children, you sat and let your mind wonder just how everything had gotten so messed up. You understood his confusion, really, you did, you understood how conflicting it must have been for him to separate with Elain, the female he was ready to spend the rest of his existence with, to then find out he was mated to you, not just you as his friend, but you as a witch.

Talk to me.

Too many tears had been spilled, you couldn't stop them from flowing from your eyes each time Azriel would fumble some excuse to get away from you. The bond was cold, it was like trying to break through a shield, an icy 10 foot deep floor that wouldn't even crack under whatever you would throw at it.

If you need me to leave then I will, Az. I'll leave for you, so you can have space, so you can think.

In the weeks that followed the revelation, you'd done all you could to try and get through to him, to let him know that you weren't expecting him to accept it, that he could take all the time he needed to process everything before speaking to you, all you needed was a sign that he was listening to you, that you mattered. It didn't surprise you that Azriel hadn't exactly thought about you in the predicament, of what it had done to you, and you couldn't even be angry at him over it because you'd be the same.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt though.

Dark skies littered with blinking starlight was cast overhead, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful that you were sure that it was some kind of abstract painting on a black canvas. The cabin used to be one of your favourite places, Azriel and you used to escape there frequently, spending nights upon nights drinking Rhys' best wine and talking about everything and nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from the memories, your eyes drifted to the clock softly ticking on the wall and you frowned, it was quite late. Lifting yourself from the tub, you wrapped a towel around your frame and padded over to the door, your wet footprints embedding themselves in the wood below. Slight disappointment sliced through you when you opened the door to see Mor, Nesta and Feyre on the deck shivering in the brisk breeze.

"We brought supplies," Nesta pushed past you, placing a wicker basket on the table and shrugging off her coat, "By supplies I mean wine, wine, and more wine."

Mor and Feyre entered, sniffing the air with soft smiles, they had always loved your scent, it was peaceful, like ocean waves lapping against the side of a mountain at dusk, airy, blissful, fresh.

The news had spread around the Inner Circle rather quickly thanks to Rhys, he had told Cassian, and well, Cassian wasn't exactly known for holding his tongue. The Lord of Bloodshed had apologised to you, feeling guilty for making things worse between you and Azriel, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was for the Shadowsinger to simply look at you. Anything else was a pointless worry. Not worth your time.

Tugging the towel tighter around your frame, you forced a smile, "This is really nice. Thank you."

Strangely, both Nesta and Feyre had been surprisingly supportive of the bond between you and Azriel. To them it made sense, you had been friends for over 500 years, you both struggled with fitting in, and you only felt truly comfortable to let your walls down around one another. To them, the bond had been there for a long time, waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad that the perfect moment had ended up making feel like the most worthless creature on the planet.

"Has he let you in yet?" Nesta rested her hand on your shoulder, her other hand was busy handing you a goblet of wine which you hugged closely to your chest and shook your head, "I'm sorry y/n. I really thought he would have by now."

"Give it time. He'll come around," Feyre draped her cloak over the arm of one of the dining chairs, smoothing out her skirt. It had always astounded you just how perfect they all were, the Archeron sisters that is, it was hard to understand how any male couldn't be attracted to them. They were quite heavenly.

"You've all been saying that for weeks," you shrugged off Nesta's hand, exasperated, "If anything he's become colder. Azriel doesn't acknowledge me, he looks right through me, he finds any reason possible to not be in the same room as me and when he sees me in the halls he turns on his heels and runs."

"I'm now living in this damned cabin hoping that some space will help him," your shoulders dropped, "I've waited my entire existence for this, I started to think that I wasn't worthy of it, and when it happened and the bond snaps with the one person I know that I could be truly happy with," your bottom lip wobbled slightly, but you choked it down and swallowed hard, "He ran."

Mor leaned forward in her seat, wide eyes under her perfectly sculpted furrowed brows, "It has nothing to do with you, y/n."

"How am I supposed to believe that when he won't even look at me?"

Something thick and fluffy draped over you, Nesta's robe that you always eyed was resting on your shoulders, "Go and get in your comfy clothes, then we can talk and bitch until all you feel is anger."

Amongst the chatter, you spied the three leather bags full to the brim of differing clothes and cosmetics, and then you realised that you weren't alone, not really, not when those three bags of clothes and trinkets belonged to the three females in the cabin with you, clearly ready to move in and stay with you until you were ready to face life again.

Who needed a man when you had three raging bitch queens?

Nesta was right, you just had to get back to work.

If anything was going to be able to distract you from that aching in your chest, then it would be work.

Luckily, Rhys, whilst he loved your abilities greatly, saw you as much more than just a celestial witch residing in his court, he likened you to a sister, blood family, which meant that he trusted no one more than you to act on his behalf when it came to court politics.

Holding such a position meant that you were rather close with the High Lords, they never saw you as Rhys' lackey at all, they saw you as a being that cared greatly about the continent who would stop at nothing to ensure harmony in all jurisdictions. Such a role meant that you were also required to entertain the High Lords whenever they visited Velaris, a place you had extended to them after the war to aid their research and better their own courts, with your help of course.

That particular evening, Rhys had asked you to entertain a certain High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra; he was visiting Lucien and his new mate, Elain, and the entire visit was putting Azriel on edge. So, naturally, you couldn't say no.

"I always love our dinners, y/n," Eris' whisky amber gaze burned into you, searching the supernatural speckles in your own.

It was no secret that Eris had a flame for you, a being he found intriguing beyond belief, in the grasp of the Night Court when Eris knew how much you would thrive in Autumn by his side. The High Lord had offered Rhys pretty much everything he could to try and convince him to let him near you. All attempts had been swiftly denied.

Plates were littered with blotches of sauce and chicken bones, two empty bottles of red had been disposed of long ago, and you were just about to order that sticky toffee slice that made your toes curl when Eris asked, "When were you going to tell me about you and Azriel, hm?"

Candlelight drifted over the side of his face, illuminating his eyes against the darkening backdrop. "What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, swirling the second glass of your third bottle that evening in perfect circles in his palm, "Come on, y/n. You reek of him, that cedar scent that even I have to admit is rather interesting."

In all of your self wallowing and sudden busyness you hadn't realised that the scent of the mating bond lingered on you, entwining with your scent of blissful oceans to create something new, something drowning. Something suffocating.

"I can admit that the news did hurt me, just a little bit," Eris, since the war, had allowed his hair to grow out. It sat just below his shoulders, layered and playful, he had it lazily pulled back low on his head. Something about that hair and those eyes made you question everything you knew, and you did know that you weren't the only one who felt like that when around the High Lord of Autumn.

Fluttering your lashes at Eris, you ran your fingers across the line of your bodice, "I apologise. It seems that fate wanted to lead me elsewhere."

Eris dismissed the waiter, eyes grinning at you through his lashes, "Let's go to Rita's. I need to drink some more, and you," he pointed to you, knowing that he was interrupting a rather important date with a rather important pudding, and said, "Need to loosen up, Witchling."

That fucking name.

You were sure that steam was emitting from your ears, but you couldn't deny that he was right, you couldn't really remember the last time you let loose and danced the night into oblivion. So you grabbed your purse from the table, a ornate gold cage that matched the intricate details of your skirt, and rose from your seat, "I hate how right you are, Vanserra. Let's go."

The High Lord towered over you, like all of them did really, stupid high fae and Illyrians and their stupid perfect genes making them so handsome and mysterious and utterly fuckable.

Stumbling from the restaurant at the edge of the Sidra, you looped your arm through Eris' and he practically had to pull you along the streets of the city or else you'd go and do a ritual in a field or something. Despite his crush, Eris found that part you a bit odd. In a way, you did too.

"When are you going to come to Autumn, Witchling? You know you'd love it there."

Eris propositioned you with the notion every time he saw you, he clearly thought that if he pestered you about it enough then you'd agree to it one day. Even just a fleeting visit would be enough to satisfy him. Just a day or two. You couldn't deny that Autumn piqued your interest, and with everything going on, perhaps a little break would do you some good.

"Maybe sooner than you think," despite the shameless flirting, you were glad that you could call Eris your friend, underneath that mask of loathing, you found the High Lord to be complex, and he appreciated your understanding. You were the only being that had ever approached him with kindness and treated him for who he truly was and not what he displayed. "All of this stuff with Azriel is spinning my mind. I feel like I'm going insane."

Eris hummed, tugging you a bit tighter into his side as he draped his arm over your shoulder, something completely platonic that you knew would send a certain someone spiralling, "That's what mating bonds do, y/n. I know that everyone keeps on telling you that he'll come around, I hope he does. Truly." It was the first time you had seen him say something and know that he was sincere of it "But, for tonight and tonight only, you are mine and we are going to drink and dance until we physically can't anymore, alright?"

Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze, "Alright."

Rita's was packed to the brim, you could feel the music thumping through the air so intensely that the ground beneath your feet was vibrating in time with the bass. Suddenly, you felt overdressed, but Eris commanded that you not think of it as he pulled you through the doors and past the guards who nodded at you with a curt smile as you clicked by.

In Velaris, you were quite known for being the wild one, the entire city was in awe of you and the powers you displayed so beautifully. More often than not, you would be found in the poorer parts of the city enchanting the children with your magic, curls of water would dance along their cheeks, and they would gasp when you would pluck a star from the sky and rest it in the palm of your hand. You knew what it felt like to feel alone and forgotten, being the last existing witch in your coven and all, and you didn't want anyone else to feel like that. So, if some water and a star would bring some form of happiness to those children, then you'd spend the rest of your life bringing them that wonder.

Eris tugged you through the grinding bodies, some of which parted as soon as they saw your eyes glistening in the lights, and stopped at the bar, shouting over the music to order drinks for you both before he turned, handing you a glass of what you could only assume was straight liquor, "To stealing you from the Night Court, Witchling," Eris raised his glass, rolling your eyes, you met it with a clink and wasted no time in downing the liquid, relishing in the burn that travelled down your throat and chest.

"Keep dreaming, Vanserra."

Hand on heart, Eris swayed into you, "Oh believe me, y/n, I do."

If you had known who was staring at you from across the room then you would have taken a step away from Eris, much like if you had seen the shadows followed you since you left the cabin that evening you wouldn't have agreed to go to Rita's. It was too late to do anything when your eyes connected with his, yours widened in surprise and solemn shock as his own narrowed, flickering between you and Eris before softening.

Of course, the first time Azriel actually looked at you was when you were stood beside Eris Vanserra, a High Lord, the brother of the one now laying with Elain.

Fuck.

It was like he didn't even see you really, he only saw Eris standing far too close to the one the cauldron had decided to be his mate. There was no way to be blind to the hatred between them, and with Azriel's temper and Eris' flare for the dramatics, you weren't surprised that Rhys had asked you to entertain the latter for the evening.

Noticing how your body froze, Eris frowned, he followed your line of sight to the Shadowsinger perched at a booth across the room ignoring both Cassian and Rhys who were trying to speak to him, to keep him calm.

Rhys. I didn't know.

I know, y/n. It'll be fine. We can handle Az if you can handle Eris.

Stiffly nodding, you turned to speak to Eris, to convince him to leave and find another place to drink, but he was gone. Then you saw his red hair moving through the crowd and you cursed, colourfully, and you scrambled through the crowd to try and reach him before he did something stupid.

Rushing up the steps to the usual booth reserved for the Inner Circle only, you stopped in your tracks as Eris' voice sliced through the chilled air, "When are you going to give our sweet y/n a break, Rhys? I keep on asking her to come to Autumn but she keeps on refusing."

Stop talking.

"It seems that she could use a break now more than ever."

Stop fucking talking.

"Especially since the bond is unrequited and she's sat in that little cabin day in day out wondering what her fate will be."

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tugged on him, harshly, like you were reprimanding a dog on a leash, "Stop talking."

Little did you know, that one touch alone was enough to make Azriel visibly flinch and shudder with pain. That one act pierced his heart deadlier than Elain ever had or could, the way your fingers rested just over Eris' pulse, the way you looked at him with flame in your eyes, it was too much.

Eris wouldn't hurt you, you were the closest thing he had to a true friend, bit his loosened lips would be the end of you, "You both know that this isn't fair on her. Why is she the one who has to sit in misery and move to the outskirts of this city in order to make your poor Azriel more comfortable?"

Tension bubbled, Rhys was slowly rising from his seat whilst Cassian angled himself in front of Azriel, probably to stop the Shadowsinger from doing something he would come to regret, "Eris, you're making it worse," he finally gave you his attention, "Just wait outside for me, we can find somewhere else to drink, okay?"

It took him a moment, but your pleading eyes convinced him to listen, and Eris moved from your side, disappearing from you and leaving you stood before three Illyrians, all of which you were sure didn't wish to be around you in that moment. Fiddling with your fingers, you looked up from the ground at them, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were going to be here. You told me to keep him entertained, I'm sorry."

Rhys froze, his breath caught in his throat, and Azriel was glaring at him with such intensity that it made even you shrink, and you didn't shrink away from anything or anyone, "I'll go. I'm sorry," your chest ached when Azriel didn't even glance in your direction, instead keeping his gaze trained on his High Lord who simply nodded once at you.

Then you left, you grasped Eris by the lobe of his ear and dragged him away from Rita's before Azriel could make him pay for his words, or even worse, Rhys. It took only a few blocks for Eris to swat your hand away, "I'm not a child, y/n." Eris rubbed the red tinged patch of skin at his ear with a pout.

Velaris watched on as you bundled down a cobbled path toward the bank of the Sidra, a place you went to often to channel your magic, it was serene and beautiful, and had been the perfect place for you to find your calm in the midst of such brutality, "That is my mate, Eris. Do you understand that? Azriel is going through so much already, he lost Elain to Lucien," Eris cocked his brow in warning but you continued, "Elain was meant to be the one for him, and as long as Az was happy then I could choke down everything I had ever felt for him because he deserved all of the happiness possible after everything he's been through. I could live alone for the rest of my days as long as he was happy. Then it turns out that he's mine, that he was always meant to be mine, it should have been the best day of our lives," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you were sick of it, of crying, you had never cried, it wasn't in your nature but it was all you could do these days.

"Azriel can't even look at me, I had to move out of the River House and isolate myself from everyone I love just to give him a moment to think and process everything," you turned to Eris, "You just had to prod him, didn't you? You just had to get under his skin. Do you know how this looks? Elain chose Lucien and then he sees me drinking with you?"

Eris ran a hand over his face and sighed, "I didn't mean to make things difficult, y/n. I just want what's best for you, what you deserve."

"I know and I appreciate that, I really do. I just wanted things to get better, not worse."

It astounded Eris how Azriel wasn't over to moon to have you as his mate, you were elegant and graceful, a formidable opponent, tactical and sharp, and one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk under the skies of Prythian. Perhaps he could have been a touch more sensitive to the situation at hand.

The moonlight waltzed over the rippling waters of the Sidra which acted as a mirror to the sky above, clear and bright, full of possibility.

The bond strained in your soul, empty and unrequited, a lone dying ember searching for its flame, and you knew then that Azriel was going to pull away from you more than ever.

"You should go back to the House of Wind," your voice was small and weak, "I'll see you before you leave tomorrow."

Eris took a step toward you, fumbling, knowing that he had messed up, "Please, y/n."

"Eris," he paused his movements, "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that nothing was going to change your stubborn mind, Eris retreated up the embankment and down the cobbled path, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Pebbles brushed together under your weight, moving flat to accommodate your position. You hugged your knees to your chest, unclasping your heels and tossing them aside, rubbing the skin on your ankles softly to alleviate the pinching that was once there.

How long could you go like this? How long would be able to deal with the rejection before it broke you? How long until you took Eris up on his offer and left Velaris forever?

You didn't have much time to think of an answer, not when a familiar cool pressure coiled at the small of your back, travelling up your spine and over your shoulders. The shadows drifted through your hair and you smiled sadly at them, at the sweet sign to tell you that you weren't alone.

"How did you find me?"

A shuffle sounded from behind you, shoes scraping along the pebbles, "This is our place. Where else would you go?"

You turned then, peering over your shoulder at him, examining him for a moment. Azriel certainly looked better, his eyes had lightened by a couple of hues and his skin was healthy an tanned to perfection, though, sadness and doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Silently cursing yourself, you turned back to the water. It was yours and Azriel's place, it always had been, until Elain came along that is and then it became your place. Whenever either of you had a bad day, the other would bring them there, to listen to the water rushing up on the rocks and watch the stars, and you'd talk, about anything that was bothering you and causing you any pain, and then suddenly you'd be alright again.

You rose from the ground, brushing little fragments of twigs and dirt from the golden swirls of your skirt, and Azriel gazed at you as you did, wondering how his best friend had become a stranger so quickly, "If I had known you were there tonight I wouldn't have taken him."

"I know," Azriel had his hands bundled into his pockets, afraid that if they lingered at his side then he would reach for you and risk a whole other world of pain, "I think we need to break the bond."

The world stopped moving.

"What?"

Azriel repeated, "I think we need to break the bond."

Break the bond.

It writhed in your chest, it writhed in pain and sorrow, striking you so deeply that you thought you may stop breathing, "I can't do it again. I can't be broken like this again, not with another Vanserra, not with anyone."

Thumping in your chest, your heart cried out, lurching around in its cage, and you struggled to form any words, "Az-"

"It's what's best for us, y/n."

No. No, no, no.

"How can you say that?" Azriel frowned, his hazel orbs softening, like he too was in pain, "I have done everything I can to give you space to process this, I moved out of our home, twice, to give you space to process whatever you need to process and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. I have gone 500 years being perfectly content of being your friend and that alone, because that was better than not having you at all. I stood by and watched you pine for Mor, and then her, the one who put such a wedge between us that I was reduced to polite hellos and nods. But I dealt with it, for you and your happiness. I dealt with all of the comparisons and pain, I dealt with the punishment of your feelings for her. I would deal with every ounce of hatred you throw at me if it meant that you would feel better, hoping that one day you'd realise that I have always been here for you, that I have always loved you in ways that no one else ever could."

You were pacing up and down the riverbank, pebbles knocking together as you walked, and Azriel stood before you unmoving, unknowing of what to say and only knowing that he needed it to end, "You never even gave it a chance," your choked whisper put him on edge.

Azriel had never seen you cry, had never heard of it happening, clearly Rhys had negated to tell him just how deeply the last few weeks had impacted you. To the point where you had actually cried. Tears gathered at your bottom lids and he noticed how you looked up at the sky to prevent them from falling.

"You never let me in."

Everything within Azriel was screaming at him to reach for you, the bond that he had frozen in place behind a wall of shadow was battering against the shield like a ram to break free and comfort you.

You were right, you had been his best friend, one of the few he could ever really depend on for everything. Elain had never liked you, she had always blamed it on her abilities not being able to harmonise with your own, but Azriel had always known it was deeper than that. Elain was a seer, and somehow it hadn't dawned on Azriel just how much she could have been hiding.

Elain hated it when he spent time with you, and being as in love as he was, he believed that it was down to some strange jealously that lingered on the surface. No one would have blamed Elain for her jealousy, you were truly a sweet creature, the other half to his marred coin that he had so carelessly tossed away. What if Elain had seen something and had chosen to lead Azriel away from you in order to preserve what she wanted them to share?

"I've given you everything I can," you sounded utterly defeated, "I don't know what else to do, Azriel."

His name was like a sonnet on your lips, one of heart-breaking sadness and longing, and he stepped to it, his shadows swirled around his body and drifted out to you. They had always adored you. They had always sought after you, a stark difference to their hiding from Elain.

"I would ruin you, y/n. You deserve so much more, so much better than me," his fingers twitched for you, he was so close yet so far from holding you, from inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo and the scent of your soul, of soft salted breezes and jasmine, "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you weren't worthy of love, and I'm so sorry for making you think that you were alone in the world," you had cocked your head to the side in question, "Rhys told me."

Azriel took another step forward, exhaling with relief when you didn't make a move to get away from him, "Love scares me. Elain had my heart in the palm of my hand and then crushed it, and then the bond snapped with you, with the one person I know would never hurt me, and I just couldn't risk it. I can't risk it. I can't risk being broken again, I can't risk hurting you."

All this time, when Azriel had been wallowing in the loss of Elain, of having to deal with her and Lucien's bond, he had completely neglected you, and your feelings. It was something you had never done to him, something you never could.

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, it carried your scent to him, and on inhaling it, he felt his entire body relax, he felt his aching disappear, and it was as though the world had gotten clearer. You turned away from him, hands folded over your chest and facing the river so that he couldn't see your tears, "I thought I was destined to be alone. The rules of your kind and the fae have never really applied to me, even the Cauldron doesn't understand me. I thought that it took the chance of love from me, but now I see that it was just some cruel joke."

Let her in. Feel her.

The shadows cooed to him, faintly, like a lullaby to a new-born babe.

"If it'll bring you peace," your voice broke, "Then break it. Break the bond. I'll find some other place to be."

Don't let her get away. Mate. She loves you. Love her. Let her in.

As though the world was tilting, Azriel let down that wall, he felt that bond slither over the seam of it to reach you, and then what he felt brought him to his knees.

Love. Wanting. Hope. Pain. Sorrow. Longing.

It consumed him with light, fighting off the demons that had been left to plague him, decimating them with the most pure substance in Prythian. Love.

When you heard his knees hit the ground you had turned and ran to where he knelt on the pebbles, meeting him as you slid onto your own, ignoring the stabbing into your skin, "Az? Are you alright? What's wrong?" You cupped his face in your hands and he felt each one of your fingertips flow life back into him.

The two tethers to the bond were dancing with one another, meeting in the middle and thrumming as two became one, turning dark skies into ones of bright sun and opulent warmth.

It was you. Sweet and fierce you. You who had always protected him, you who had always put him first even when he couldn't return it. You.

"Az? Talk to me, tell me what's happening. Do I need to call for Rhys? I'll get him right-"

Azriel stopped you before you could rise to your feet, the act of wrapping his fingers around your wrists enough to make your words vanish in your mouth, "You love me."

Settling into the space before him, knee to knee with him and his shadows itching to pull you closer, you didn't remove your hands from his, the feeling of it so powerful that it wiped all of your pain away, "I always have."

Walks along the Sidra. Visits to the bakery. The countless thoughtful gifts for Winter Solstice. The nights spent locked away in the cabin talking about dreams and fears.

Azriel's fingers drifted along your cheek before resting there, his thumb softly soothing the tightness in your jaw, "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because you deserve to be happy, even if it isn't with me," Azriel watched your bottom lip wobble, and that stream of love within him rippled with upset. His thumb moved to it, dragging across that plump flesh that he had always wondered of the taste.

Would you taste sweet or of lightly salted oceans? Of the air at dusk perhaps?

All he had ever chased was happiness, how foolish of him to be blind to the fact he had always had it within you.

"I think the only time I've ever truly been happy, at peace, has been with you. You've always felt like home," your eyes met and he offered you a small, genteel smile; his fingers moved to your hair, raking over your scalp and floating to rest on the small of your back, "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

Azriel hummed in admittance, "The worst part of all of this was that I left the House of Wind to be near you, because I could be, nothing was in the way of us anymore, and I knew you'd be the only one patient enough to deal with me. It was selfish, but you've always been the rocks on which the ocean crashes, you've always been the one I can turn to without fear of judgement. You understand me."

"I can still be that person, Az. I can still be your friend."

Resting his forehead against yours, Azriel spoke lowly, like he had just awoken from slumber, "Do you know how hard it is for me to not take you back to that cabin right now and make you mine?" The carnal desire was dwelling within him, a rabid need that begged to be satisfied, "But you deserve better, y/n. Better than what I've done. So if you'll let me, I want to do this properly. I want to court you and make you feel like you're the only woman in the world, and when you're ready, not me, you, then you can accept it for the both of us. Because you deserve the magic of the bond more than me, you deserve this happiness."

"And if you don't want to, then that's fine. I can live with what I've done, and if you want to move to Autumn and find happiness there then I won't stand in your way. In no world would I ever stop you from finding love and passion and joy, because you deserve it y/n, you are everything that is beautiful in this world and then some. Every single part of you is destined for greatness, for a love so powerful that people drown in it."

"I hate what I've done to you, I hate that I've made you feel unworthy of a mating bond and I'll never forgive myself for it. But if you let me, I'd like to show you that I want this, that I want you, and you can decide for yourself if a life with me is something you want."

Silence fell between you but you didn't make a move to pull away, you knelt in place, peering up at him with your hands resting on his biceps, channelling the pulsing energy of the Sidra as it ebbed and flowed downstream, "A life with you is all I've ever wanted."

The bond glowed, golden and blinding, and Azriel was struggling to keep himself together as he basked in the ocean of your love and devotion, "Can I kiss you? Please?"

If he wasn't searching for it then he wouldn't have even noticed the tiniest hazed nod directed at him. Even the stars had stopped their flickering to focus on you, their most prized possession, the only one capable of harnessing their power and turning it into something blissful and good. It was why they chose you.

Closing the gap, Azriel tilted your head upward to give him better access to the lips that had often haunted his dreams; the scent of jasmine entwined with his own and he felt himself hold his breath as he closed that gap between you.

Your lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined them to be, they tasted of fresh saltwater and some kind of sweet fruit from the gloss you always wore that made them shimmer in any light. It stopped the world from turning for a moment, the universe watched on as Azriel sealed your fates. Moving his fingers from the small of your back to your neck and deepening the embrace of your lips, Azriel relished in the taste of you, in your warmth, in the way his soul sang and his shadows pulled you in closer to him. It was a feeling he had waited his entire existence for, one you had also yearned for.

Utterly magical. Soul consuming.

Everything made sense then. How everything you had both endured was meant to be, just so that you could end up entwined in that moment. All of the pain and sorrow, all of the false love and distance, all of the laughter and sweet memories, it was all worth it. It was worth every morsel of agony.

"Such a sweet creature. My sweet creature."

"Yours?" Azriel hummed, pressing dainty kisses to the tip of your nose and cheeks, and you closed your eyes to consume his touch and shuddered when his lips landed on your collarbone, caressing the skin there, "I think I could get used to that."

Authors Note

Hey besties!

I got very carried away with this - sorry if it's not great, these pain meds are really kicking my ass right now so I haven't even properly proof read this yet xo

Taglist

@crazylokonugget @fxckmiup @rogersbarnesxx @emryb

[perfectlyoongi]

HOW THEY LOOK AT YOU ⠀⠀summary: there is a mystical glow in a lover's eyes, and when he looks at you, it is the creation of the universe that beautifies his gaze.

⪩ pairing: seokjin, hoseok, taehyung x gn!reader. ⪩ genre: headcanons, fluff. ⪩ word count: 800k total, ~250 each.

SEOKJIN 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if butterflies could talk.

in a certain way, you were the bearer of all the charm that existed in this world. Jin was sure that there was nothing in this world that didn’t have your magic.

all the flowers created colorful carpets to support any fall you might take. the various melodies sung by the wind and embellished by the birds were just the soundtrack to all your adventures. rivers were created with your tears, grains of sand sprouted from your laughter. forests and mountains, stars and clouds – all that was beautiful, all that was life, all that was, was you.

when he looked at you, Jin could see an entire captivating future eager to be lived. lived by you. lived with you. everything that will be came from you – all life and all creation, all beauty and all magic. by looking at you, Jin finally managed to understand all the stories that ended in that ‘happily ever after’. there was love in the world. there was happiness in the world. Jin believed that, because you existed.

when looking at you it was impossible not to see all the celestial particles that made up the cosmos and made it so fascinating. when looking at you it was impossible not to feel that intense heat that not even the sun itself could provide.

and that was why Jin looked at you as if nature could communicate with him: enchanted by all your beauty, dazzled by all your magic. he looked at you as if he had received all the answers from our universe. Jin admired you. Jin was devoted to you. Jin was completely fascinated by you and your entire existence.

you were the reason for this entire cosmos – you were Jin’s deity.

HOSEOK 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if the universe was silent.

silence. rest. peace.

finally, in your presence, the entire universe was submerged in a vast sea of ​​pure and total tranquility. it was in the silence of your love that Hoseok felt himself floating in this sea, believing he was being guided to the most pleasurable details of life.

finally, nothing.

After years of being violently attacked by the most macabre sounds of humans and the cruelest sounds in the world, Hoseok finally had a calm, an emptiness, a vast and pleasurable paradise of pure silence.

in your presence, nothing else existed but Hoseok. the entire universe ceased to exist in your company. there was no sound or force that could steal Hoseok’s attention from you. any and all perverse attempts by the cosmos to expel you from Hoseok’s life were just futile, vain, useless. there was nothing to worry about when destiny itself had you and Hoseok entwined in a timeless thread that could transcend any reality.

Hoseok looked at you as if you were the bearer of all the words in the world.

an extensive amount of love songs were heard by Hoseok every time you spoke to him. sweet love poems were recited in every caress, in every smile, in every look exchanged between you and Hoseok. Hoseok looked at you like the moon looks at the vast universe: silent, hopeful, dreamy of what could lie beyond; a believer in what he was experiencing, a devotee of what he was feeling – someone in love with you.

TAEHYUNG 𓏲 ִֶָ ๋ ᡣ𐭩 ⠀⠀as if he was a student of the renaissance.

just as it is certain that the sun will rise tomorrow, it is also certain that small fragments of you could be found in Taehyung. a new mannerism, a lost word, an infectious smile, a shared nightmare.

nothing of who you were was alone – not when Taehyung was with you.

nothing of what you were was neglected – not when Taehyung promised you, swore to you, whispered to you, that everything about you would be part of him. today. tomorrow. in the future that was uncertain – always and eternally.

Taehyung’s eyes were deeply adorned with pure dedication every time he looked at you. perhaps because of the newness of that feeling. perhaps because of the intensity of that emotion. or perhaps because you were, quite simply, the only object of his desires.

no one could deny the veracity of Taehyung’s feelings for you. every look exchanged with Taehyung was filled with the intense glow of all the constellations of love that beautified the cosmos. every smile you threw was held by Taehyung’s heart with tremendous delicacy, to keep them always, and forever, close to him. Taehyung looked at you like a student looks at a more complex book – curiosity arose in Taehyung every time you entered the room. his attention was willingly given to you and you alone. and his devotion, oh!, his devotion was something familiar, something so natural that it made Taehyung believe he was created just to love you.

♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[nomie-11]

Chapter 1 - Chains of Starlight*

masterlist! | series masterlist | next part ->

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Dark, damp, and the smell of mildew. A room, no bigger than 5 feet long and 5 feet wide, a single mattress and a ratty blanket, a sink, a toilet, and a boarded up door with a slit for food. The faucet never stopped dripping, the hollow plop, plop, plop haunting her as it rang out in the room, all day every day, for what felt like an eternity. Stone floors, stone walls, and stone ceilings. The smell of mildew. 

There’s no escape from the humidity of this dungeon, not without a compromise Genevieve doesn’t want to make. 

For every day of this torture, Genevieve Hale etched stars into her ceiling, one star a day, forming constalations she once mapped in the mountains of Aretia. Her hands grew raw from months of searching the stones for a crack, her body grew wearing from days of practicing her sparring on the door that blocked her from the outside she once loved. 

Each kick against the door resonated against her, a cruel reminder of her futile struggle against confinement. She could almost hear the rustle of the leaves, the rush of rivers—it was a cruel juxtaposition of her current situation.

The only solace she found in the darkness was the faint memory of the stars above her grandmother’s manor in Aretia, twinkling above her like the promise of freedom. Every star etched into her sky mirrored the nights her mother would spend in her library, teaching Genevieve the stories of astronomy. 

In this damp prison, Genevieve replayed her memories, each in a flickering flame against the encroaching despair. She remembered the warm embrace of the sun on her skin, the thrill of a sparring match under the sprawling sky, the feeling of her grandmother’s weathered hands braiding her hair into Tyrrish knots—moments she clung to as she counted the four hundred and seven stars on her ceiling. One for each day. 

But hope, however fragile, flickered within her. As the familiar click of heels descended the stairs to her dungeon, she could see the light filter through the cracks in the bottom of the door. The dull thud of the dripping faucet became a metronome for her determination, but the sound of the heels descending was an omen for the future. General Sorrengail was coming. 

Genevieve straightened her spine, feeling the tight pull of the raw skin around her wrists. The iron cuffs, long since rusted, had bitten into her flesh enough times that the pain was now a dull hum in the background of her existence. She wouldn’t flinch, though–not for Lilith Sorrengail. Not for the woman who had put her here. 

The footsteps stopped just beyond the door, the shadow of boots barely visible in the narrow slit meant for her meals. A familiar, suffocating silence filled the room as Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard this ritual countless times, but each visit, every word from the General, left fresh scars. 

The boards covering the door creaked as they were pulled aside, and a sliver of magelight leaked through the opening. A face appeared. Cold eyes, just like she remembered. 

“Still alive, I see,” Lilith’s voice cut through the quiet, it’s tone sharp and unforgiving. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.” 

Genevieve didn’t respond. She had learned early on that silence was her only defense. Lilith wanted her to break, to beg for mercy, to plead for release. But Genevieve knew better. Every word would be twisted, every crack in her resolve a victory for Lilith. So, she remained still, her fingers tracing the stone wall behind her. 

“You must be wondering why I kept you here,” The general’s voice was almost conversational, as if she were discussing the weather or a new recruit. “Why someone like you–someone with such potential–would be wasting away in this pit?” 

Geneveive’s heart pounded in her chest. She hated that part of her that wanted to know the answer. There was no denying the lingering question that had gnawed at her since her imprisonment. Why had she not just killed her? What did she really want?

“Why are you here?” Genevieve prompts, her voice smooth and calm, not betraying the racing of her heart. “Who do you want to protect so badly that you keep me alone down here?” 

“I’m not here to spill my life secrets to you, girl,” She practically spat, her resolve shattering. “You’re lucky I kept you down here instead of just killing you.” 

The younger girl bites her tongue, but she’s itching to scream. 

“I’m here to propose a deal, a compromise of sorts,” General Sorrengail says, her tone evening once more, her mask of power and indifference settling softly onto her face. “I’m going to let you out of here, and you’re going to go to Basgiath and become a rider.”

Genevieve made no moves, no motions to say yes. 

“While there, you’ll watch over Xaden Riorson for me. Do you understand? You watch him, and report back to me when you see anything… strange.” She leaned down, her face still as she crooned over Genevieve. “You’re in my hands, either you say yes, or you die.” 

The words lingered in the air, thick with threat. You watch him, or you die. 

Genevieve’s breath came out slow, controlled. She had learned not to react too quickly, not to betray her thoughts, especially when dealing with someone like Lilith Sorrengail. The General was dangerous–cold, calculating, and capable of twisting any situation to her advantage. 

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, yet her face remained impassive. She didn;t need to ask why she was chosen for this task. It was obvious. Xaden Riorson–son of the man who had led the rebellion, the rebellion that had nearly toppled Navarre, the rebellion her own father had supported. And now, General Sorrengail suspected Xaden was the leader of the rebellious remnants of Basgiath. What better way to ensure control than to send someone who had just as much reason to hate him as to ally with him?

But Genevieve wasn’t stupid. She knew this wasn’t just about spying on Riorson. There was always something more to Lilith’s plans. The General didn;t make moves unless the outcome benefited her in more ways than one. 

“Why me?” Genevieve asked, her voice low but steady. She could feel Lilith watching her, evaluating, calculating. 

“Because you’re nobody,” Lilith replied, her words cutting with brutal honesty. “You have no alliances, no family that matters anymore. No one will miss you if you disappear.” 

Genevieve’s chest tightened, but she fought to keep her expression neutral. She wasn’t a nobody. She was a Hale. Even if her family had fallen from grace, even if her father had been branded a traitor, she still had her name, her skills, her strength. She still had something left, even if it was just the fire of her hatred for the woman standing in front of her. 

“And what if I refuse?” 

Lilith’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And miss out on seeing the stars from the back of a dragon?” 

Genevieve’s fingers tightened against the cold stone behind her. She knew Lilith was right. This isn't a choice. It had never been. If she refused, she’d die in this cell, forgotten and discarded like so many others before her. But if she accepted… if she played along… freedom was hers. She could see the sky, see the sprawling mountains, and watch the eagles fly. 

“I’ll do it,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. 

Lilith straightened, satisfied. “Good. You leave tomorrow.” 

The general turned to go, but before she could leave, Genevieve spoke again. “One more thing.” 

Lilith paused, glancing over her shoulder. 

“When I’m done with your little task… what happens to me?” 

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken implications. Finally, she spoke, her voice cold and distant. “Then you’re free.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut, leaving Genevieve alone once more. The sound of the dripping faucet resumed, but this time, it didn;t seem as loud. Instead, Genevieve’s thoughts raced. She had a mission now, a purpose, even if it was wrapped in chains. 

But she wasn’t a pawn, no matter how much Lilith Sorrengail believed she was. 

If Lilith wanted her to spy on Xaden Riorson, she would do it. But it wouldn’t be for the general. It would be for herself, for her freedom. 

Genevieve leaned against the cold stone, staring up at the stars she had etched into the ceiling. Tomorrow, she will leave this basement. Tomorrow she will prepare herself for Basgiath. 

For today, she will sit in her dungeon, the flicker of hope growing into a flame. 

—-------------------------------------

The heavy iron door was ajar the next morning when she woke up, and alone and cold, Genevieve rose to a stand, the iron shackles clattering to the floor without a fight. Her tattered clothes hung loose, her hair grew long, her skin pale, but she was still her after all this time as she crossed the threshold of the doorway. She had been prepared to die in this basement, but now, a world that she had once thought was dead to her was opening right back up, now with a mission she despised and a future she couldn’t predict.

She straightened herself, pushing her shoulders back and forcing herself to stand tall as she would when she was free. As she entered the stairwell, light from the top of the hallway hit her eyes. The walls still surrounded her, and it still smells like mildew, but the climb wasn’t daunting as she ascended the spiral staircase to freedom. 

Genevieve ascended the spiral staircase, each step echoing off the stone walls of her former prison. The mildew still clung to the air, but the light at the top was more intoxicating than the stale darkness she had known for months. Every breath she took felt sharper, crisper, like a blade slicing through the haze of captivity. 

Her bones feel brittle, her muscles tight, but none of it mattered. Not now. Her skin tingled as the late summer air slowly filtered down towards her. She stepped out into the sun, blinding her with its warm rays, a stark contrast to the cold, damp dungeon below. Her heart pounded as the light engulfed her, squinting against the brightness, but the moment she stepped out into the open air, the scent of earth and grass filled her lungs. For a brief, fleeting second, she almost felt free. 

As much as she hated Lilith Sorrengail, she couldn't deny the excitement that flickered and breathed like a candle to a breeze within her. An endless sea of stars, and endless stream of sunrises. The sky, the stars, the dragons, the earth, it was once more hers. 

Taking a deep breath, she savored the fresh air, the scent of life around her. The world was wide open before her, and for the first time in one year and forty two days, she felt the hope inside her shine. A small spark of dangerous desire, laced with anger and a need for vengeance. Genevieve Hale was free, but she was not the same girl that was locked away all that long ago. She was harder, colder, and every step forward was a step closer to making Lilith Sorrengail pay for what she had done. 

Her fists clenched tightly as she stood there in the sunlight. Basgiath War College would be the battlefield for now, and she would make sure that every player in this twisted game understood one thing: Genevieve Hale was not to be underestimated. Not anymore. 

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

Hey guys! attempting to actually write a fanfiction for once after reading so many (cough cough Fear and Flame), so lmk what you think!

*Rewritten!

[drunkwhenimadethis]

In the white lucid morning, glowing still with rain and winter scent, I committed myself to you again, secretly, in silence. Love—eternal, devotional—rose its perfumed head. Calm ecstatic hymns drown out the emptiness that I had, up until the last moment, been perceiving as caused by you. And warm sensations rise like spring river water thawing out to wash over the pain I had thought you were giving me. Regardless of the black countryside and your wild snorting horse and your endless drawing of swords, I will no longer permit a dark word against you, I will not allow my inner flock of vultures to hunt hungrily for your decay. For you alone I am not who I once was. For you alone I find no joy in battle. For you alone I wait for the dance of war to dwindle. I recognize and protect your weaknesses which call for such rigid strategies, I see the logic in your once incomprehensible stance. I love you also when you wear that mask of blood and when you disguise your heavenly scent with bad behaviors. There is a cost that comes with loving a soldier of this world. Our land is full of thunder and you are the one I watch shyly, recognizing, awe-overflowing, that you do not want to fight but it is all that you know, and so go. I remain here, affections transforming into humble duty, preparing your ointments and your stew. I will remain alive feeding on meat and memory’s warm liquids, listening to the musical tones of nature, imagining that it is your harsh voice somewhere over the mountain ranges that commands the winds to move in such a magical direction.

[googleitlol]

Revisiting King's Crown got me inspired to write something from the future, a little snippet of when it's almost the end of the journey. It happens at a point where Dove isn't in the best of head spaces, she's learned stuff that has her questioning a lot, so Wukong takes her for a little vacation to Flower Fruit Mountain.

I've cut around some specifics just so I don't spoil too much of the later plot, but I rlly wanted to share this piece. There's angst, not a whole lotta self-love going on, but there's some comfort in there so hopefully that makes up for all the sad stuff 🫶

Dove Masterlist:

Why?

The moon shines over Flower Fruit, full and bright. The stars accompanying it in the night sky twinkle overhead, a faint breeze leaving a cover of bumps over your arms. Despite the slight chill, it is very welcomed after your day in the summer heat. There are barely any clouds in the sky, it’s a perfect way to end the night. With the blanket of night, there is barely a whisper of another soul on the grassy landscape you lay on with the king of the mountain.

Your Peaches is the one who suggested stargazing, he lays just underneath you, his shirt discarded a few metres away. You lie with your head on his chest, a hand rests just over his stomach as you take in the sky’s tableau. One of his arms wraps over your midsection, keeping you close while his tail thumps slowly and rhythmically over the ground. His head lays on his other arm, and he keeps a knee propped up while he looks up to the sky.

The world is silent as you watch the stars. They move so slowly in the mortal realm compared to the Jade Palace. Up there, the stars race through the sky like an ocean current, slowing for no one. Down here, they inch across the sky so slowly, their movement is barely even noticeable. If only it could all be that slow, if only this could never end. How wonderful it would be if this journey could go on for eternity. You would rather cross a thousand rivers, climb a never-ending mountain than have it end so soon. But you need to do this, whether you want to or not. It’s for the better, for everyone.

“So?” Wukong hums from under you, it’s easy to feel his eyes on the top of your head. “Has today been worth it?” He asks, but you can’t answer him right away. You look up at him from your spot on his chest, soaking in the warmth from his body. The slow rise and fall of each breath he takes is comforting.

Everything about right now feels perfect, Sun Wukong has made today so calm. It feels as though he could soothe all your worries in a moment like this, just stay how you are forever. But you can’t. You can’t allow yourself to enjoy today, enjoy all of this. Not after everything you know now. “Why?”

Peaches looks down at you, his warm smile enough to cause the butterflies in your stomach to stir. “Care to elaborate?” His smile carries to his eyes, those beautiful sunset eyes. Looking into them, all your anxieties could melt away.

Then your gaze travels up, to the gold encircling his head. “Why bring me here today?” You ask, your brows furrowed with worry.

He answers your question with one of his own. “This is your future home, isn’t it? Or should I be expecting one of us to commute between my mountain and that bodhisattva’s?”

“…I’m not going back to Potalaka.” You look back out to the sky, the stars in the same position as you left them.

Wukong takes a moment before replying. “She only did what she thought was best.” His chest rumbles with soft laughter. “Hell, you know I would’ve done a lot worse if I were in her position.” You know Guan Yin did her best, but it doesn’t make anything better.

You sit up, hugging your knees tight as your eyes wander over the landscape. This isn’t right, none of it is. The two of you are sitting here in the comforts of Flower Fruit Mountain while the others are on their own. Sun Wukong risked a day away from Tripitaka, and for what? An attempt to make you feel better than you should? “…Why?”

He lets the silence sit this time, slowly sitting up to join you. His hand finds its way to your back, it moves gently back and forth in comfort. “Because you can’t keep beating yourself up over this. It wasn’t in your control, Dove.”

You look down into your lap as his tail wraps around, pulling you closer. Why is he trying so hard? All these years with him, and still you have not a single clue as to why he chose you. Who in their right mind would do that, after everything you’ve done. The thought makes your chest grow tight, it makes each breath all the more difficult to take.

“Why do you love me?” Your voice is barely a whisper, but that doesn’t stop him from hearing it. Wukong stiffens at the question, his hand freezing as his head swivels down to look at you.

You find it in you to look back at Wukong, his eyes are wide with a mix of shock and concern. He almost looks hurt by the question. “What?” He frowns, turning to face you more.

“How can you?” You press, moving away from his touch and turning to face him as well. “After everything I’ve done.”

“Stop that.” His frown deepens, and you shake your head.

“We should be with the others right now.” You look away, but before you can move any farther, he takes hold of both your hands.

“Dove.”

“How can you defend me?!”

“I’m not letting you talk yourself into thinking–”

“I did this to you!”

You reach out to hold his head as you speak, the cold metal of the circlet in your hands. A reminder of your spite, your hatred that drove you to hurt him. The malice and resentment that hurt your Peaches.

He looks back at you, stunned into silence as tears prick at your eyes. “I… I hurt you. Every time that thing on your head tightens, when you were only trying to protect us– even when we were trying to tell you apart from Macaque!” Your shoulders shake, each intake of breath sharp as the tears stream down your face.

“I gave Tripitaka the sutra, I tricked you into wearing the circlet! How can you love me after all this pain I’ve caused you?!” Your head falls onto his shoulder as you try your best to stifle your cries, your arms dropping down to his shoulders. “I don’t deserve it. Not from you, not after I hurt you like I did.”

The silence that follows is only broken by your muffled breaths. Neither of you move, still as stone. Only when your shaky breaths slow do you feel arms wrapping around you. “…We were both pretty angry people back then, huh? Ha, we still are.” Wukong shakes his head, as if in amusement.

A sigh slips from his lips, and you feel him rest his head over yours. “I still remember my confusion, the first time I felt it tighten around my head, falling to the ground when the pain hit me. Even when it stops, sometimes I can still feel it.”

His arms slide back, his hands taking you by your shoulders to pull you back. Once he can properly look you in the eyes, one hand moves to cup the side of your face. He’s gentle as he holds you face up to his, his thumb moving to wipe away a tear. “I hate what you did to me, but I could never hate you.”

Peaches smiles at you, it’s small but genuine. His words leave you speechless, at a loss that he takes to keep going. “You got me to wear this crown, but it’s coming off as soon as Master reaches Thunderclap Monastery. I tried killing you…” His gaze wanders away for a moment, his smile turning guilty. “…more than once.”

You frown at that. Of course you remember the first time in the Jade Palace, but what else was he talking about? The time where he tried using you as bait for those demons that took Tripitaka’s cassock? “You said that time in the tree was so you could find the demon’s home while they were distracted.”

“Eh, I was going for a, ‘kill two birds with one stone’ approach with that.” He admits, his chuckle traced with some shame. You deadpan a little before he continues.

“But even after everything, you chose to be here with me.” Your eyes widen a bit as he moves closer. With his other hand moving to hold the other side of your face. He pulls you in so that your foreheads meet in the middle. “So don’t you ever question my love for you. It is as eternal as my life, and it will shine to make your darkest days light. You deserve the world, and more, that is something I will never let you forget.”

Your heart quickens, thumping against your chest rapidly as Wukong’s gaze holds yours. You can feel your face flushing, those sun-kissed eyes that hold you in their sights enough to make you swoon a hundred times over. Tears well up in your own eyes, and before they can fall, he pulls you into an embrace.

“You can’t blame yourself for something that happened when you were a child.” He whispers as you slowly wrap your arms around his back. “It all would have happened, regardless of whether or not you knew why.”

It takes you a second to slow your breaths. “I could have done something–”

“You were eight.” His voice is firm, stopping you before you could say any more.

Your eyes shut tight. “That doesn’t mean I wish I could have done something to stop it.”

One of his hands slides up to hold the back of your head. “You couldn’t have.” His fingers comb through your hair, and you melt into his touch.

There isn’t anything you can say. You know he’s right, but it doesn’t make the truth any harder to swallow. An entire village, gone. Innocent lives, friends who lost their lives because of you. You can’t let anyone else lose their life, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if that happened.

At least you have him with you, here. You still can’t see why he cares so much for you, but right now, you’re just grateful that he does. “…I love you.”

“And I love you, Dove.” Peaches hums, and before you can say another word, your love lays back against the grass, taking you with him.

The steady beat of his heart drums against his chest, it’s rhythm soothing as you allow yourself to relax in his hold. This night really is beautiful. “Are we going to fly back tonight? You know nothing good happens when you leave Tripitaka for too long.”

Wukong lets out a soft huff. “My brothers will be alright taking care of him for a single night. Right now, I think you need a good rest on an actual bed.”

“Why use a bed when you’re right here?” You mumble, nuzzling your head into his chest with a small smile. He laughs at that, and you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head. A sigh escapes you, your eyes closing slowly as you lay with Wukong. “Peaches… why?”

“Why, what?” He asks in a whisper, his voice soft.

When you open your eyes, you look up at the sage with a smile. “Why did you bring me here today? The real reason.”

Peaches keeps his eyes to the sky, his head shaking a bit. “You know why.”

“I do, I just want you to know you can’t trick me.” You smirk, making Wukong laugh again.

“We’ll see about that.”

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-two

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

crossing the river of death puts you in a precarious position.

a/n: I HAVE RETURNED LOOK AT ME GO. y’all aren’t read for the end of this chapter, or what’s around the corner!! thank you all for such a warm welcome back 🤍

word count: 7.1k

warnings: y’all know the drill. no smut here.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

You find a better rhythm. With a direction in mind, you find it easier to pull your feet through the snow, your eyes trained on the back of Joel’s head. Ellie hovers somewhere in the middle of you two, her eyes downcast, refusing to look at you. Not that you blame her.

She has every right to be pissed at you, snapping at her like that. You know she was just concerned about Joel, and by extension, concerned about what would happen to the two of you if he was gone. But it was like she had reached into your heart, yanked out your worst fear, and thrown it in your face.

Because you’re fucking worried about him.

The cold still bites. The soup left a lingering warmth in your bones, but it has since faded away, leaving you just as chilled as you were before. Your feet hurt, your back aches, every scar on your body seems to thump with every step you take.

There’s something to be said for the landscape. The snow-capped mountains and deep valleys. You’ve yet to reach the River of Death, but you find stretches of land that aren’t coated in white, and your feet are eternally grateful.

After a good few hours of walking, Joel calls you to stop and hands you the rifle, disappearing around a tree. You and Ellie sit in awkward silence for a few moments, but your mouth won’t stay shut.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you like that,” you say, stepping closer to her and nudging her with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way I just…” You trail off, looking in the direction Joel went.

“You’re worried about him,” she finishes, something way too wise in her voice for a fourteen-year-old.

“More worried than I’ve ever been,” you reply, digging your hands into the pockets of your coat. “He’s not okay, and I don’t know how to fix it, and when you asked if he was dying I…” You trail off again, unable to finish that sentence. “He’s the only reason I’m alive, Ellie,” you tell her, eyes stinging, “and I mean that in every sense.”

For a moment, you consider telling her. We’re not so different, you and I. You consider showing her the bite, telling her that you get it, that in a way, you understand what she’s going through and what she’s been through. The curious part of you wonders if she’d give you her own story, if she’d tell you what happened, but the protective part of you doesn’t want to know, doesn’t think you could stomach it.

“You two are fucked up,” she tells you before you can open your mouth again, “but like, in a good way?”

You bark a laugh despite the tears crawling up your throat. “Thanks, kid.”

Joel reappears, his brow furrowed, hand curling around your elbow when he’s close enough, leaning in to drop a kiss at your temple. Ellie makes a retching noise and he rolls his eyes at her. “Let’s go.”

And you fall back into the rhythm once more.

+

Whatever rift had formed between you and Ellie, Joel can see that it’s gone as he steps around the trees, watching you two for a moment, just talking. He can’t hear what you’re saying, though the expression on his face makes him think you’re about to cry. But before he can barrel forward and jump to your rescue, you laugh, a genuine smile on your face, and for a moment, he lets himself bask in it, forgetting everything he’s feeling, everything he’s carrying.

He can still remember the first time he made you smile.

The first day he walked into the hardware store. He was struck dumb the moment he rounded the aisle and saw you standing there. Made an absolute fool of himself, tripping over his words as he asked you for a drill bit, anxiety twisting his gut when he realized you didn’t have a name tag or anything confirming you actually worked there. But you’d indulged him, assuring him you did in fact work there and helping him find what he was looking for before turning on your heel and giving him an eyeful of your ass as you walked away.

It was when he walked up to the cash. He stumbled his way through another conversation, asking you if you were new to Austin, that he hadn’t seen before. And he knew he’d have remembered you. Yours wasn’t a face he would be forgetting anytime soon.

And you smiled as you answered, your eyes flicking from his to the cash register to the drill bit he was purchasing. It was an easy smile, relaxed, just simple conversation to you. But it was the kind of smile that reached your eyes, making them crinkle at the edges, making his heart riot around in his throat.

Joel had no idea back then that he was falling in love with you on the spot, but looking back, it’s easy to see.

You had him — hook, line, and sinker — the moment you smiled.

Now, he just needs to get close to you. He grabs your elbow as soon as he’s able, pulling you against him. Your warmth envelops him like a blanket, a comfort, and he kisses your temple, inhales the scent of you. You all smell awful, granted, but it’s still there, that thread of you beneath the dirt and blood and grime.

Ellie fake-gags and he rolls his eyes. “Let’s go.”

You walk side-by-side for a while, your hand wrapped in his, covering his bad side as always. Ellie walks ahead of the two of you, boots trudging through the snow, dead rabbit dangling from her backpack. You have your new bat propped against your shoulder, careful of the barbed wire, and despite that persistent ache in his chest, he grins.

You catch him, your brow lifting in question, but he can see the shake of your lips, the blue lining the edge of them. You’re freezing. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he replies, a slight shake of his head. “You just look all badass, carryin’ that scary bat of yours.”

Your grin is bigger than his, holding the thing out in front of you. “It’s not a perfect replacement, but I’ll make it work.”

Joel squeezes your hand. “Damn right, you will.”

The sun has hidden itself behind the mountains by the time you come upon the river. The air has gotten colder and Joel can hear your teeth chattering.

“The River of Death!” Ellie declares, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Scary.”

Joel sighs as you all come to a stop, looking down at the river below. “Don’t start.” He pulls you close, tucks you under his arm, trying to give you some of his warmth. “It’s too close to dark, and we need to get  warm. There’s some caves along the river; we’ll set up camp there, cross in the mornin’.”

He looks down at you, and you just nod, burying your face in his coat.

“Good,” Ellie agrees. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” you say, voice muffled by the leather. 

“Should’ve stolen two rabbits,” she continues and Joel shakes his head.

“We can get our own rabbits.”

“You gonna teach me how?” the kid asks, perking up at the mere thought.

Joel gives her a long stare, inhaling deeply, feeling your hand press against his back. “Just keep movin’.”

She sighs and turns on her heel, starting to walk away.

“It’s not a bad idea,” you say, peeking your face up at Joel. Your lips are almost bright blue and worry lances through him. “She knows how to shoot, she might as well know how to hunt. I should know too, y’know, in case—” You cut yourself short, eyes flaring with the unsaid words, but Ellie’s voice rings out in his head.

If you’re dead, we’re fucked.

“Come on,” he mutters, forcing himself to ignore the wheeze in his breath. “We need to get you warm.”

+

Joel picks a cave not far from the bridge that’ll take you across the river, but it’s far enough out that you’re out of sight, and he deems it safe enough to build a fire. Which you’re now sat in front of, as close as you can get without burning the ends of your hair, both sleeping bags wrapped around your shoulders. Joel made coffee and sat beside you for a good hour, rubbing his hands over your shoulders, trying to help you get warm. He only got up when the fire started to die, in search of more wood to add.

Now, he’s sat beside you, rummaging through your bag or his, you can’t be sure. You watch as he produces the roll of duct tape you’d found in the watchtower, sliding one foot in front of him as he tries to find the end of the tape. Once he does, he wraps his boot three times over, bites the edge to tear it off before smoothing the end into place.

He catches you staring as he presses down on the tape. “What is it, baby?”

You shake your head, not realizing how rapt you’d been, watching his movements. “Nothing. Just…should have tried to find boots for you before we…” You trail off, rolling your lips together. “M’sorry, is all.”

“Liv, you don’t need to be sorry,” he tells you, tossing the tape back into the bag and sliding across the ground, closer to you. “You scoured every inch of that store; I watched you do it.” He reaches down, raps his hand against the side of the boot. “They’re still intact, mostly. I can still walk. It’s fine, okay? You don’t need to be sorry.”

He wraps his arm around your sleeping bag-covered shoulders and tucks you under his arm. You sink into his warmth, the feeling finally returning to your fingers and toes. You feel him shuffle slightly, reaching into his coat, and then something silver is pushed under your nose.

“Think this’ll help warm you up?” Joel asks, and your eyes nearly bug out of your skull when you see the flask in his hand.

“Where’d you find that?” you nearly gasp, snatching it from him. You shake it slightly, feeling the slosh of liquid inside. “It’s full?”

“Nicked it from the old folks,” he admits, giving you a boyish grin that momentarily eases the worry you’re still holding onto. “Saw a few other bottles tucked away in there, they won’t miss it.”

“Joel Miller, you thief.”

His eyes are shining as he unscrews the cap, taking a quick whiff before tipping the flask up to his lips. He actually makes a face, features pinching in a scowl, and you laugh. “That’s strong.”

“Good,” you say, taking the flask as he offers it. “Then it’ll definitely keep me warm.”

He’s not wrong. The liquor burns on the way down, nearly making you cough up a lung like some college girl doing shots of tequila. But once you get one sip down, the warmth spreads through you from the inside, and you take another.

When you go for a third, Joel stops you. “Easy, tiger,” he laughs, closing the flask. “We gotta ration this shit even more than those coffee beans.”

“Good point.”

You sink back against him, warm inside and out now. Your eyes snag on his duct-taped boots and there’s a pang in your chest, but you push it away. You’ll get across the river in the morning and you’ll find something. You’ll be damned if you let him walk another day in those boots.

You can almost feel yourself dozing off against Joel’s chest when an awestruck woah! fills your ears. You glance up, spotting Ellie atop the rock she’d climbed up as soon as you’d made camp. The protective part of you wanted to bark at her to get her ass back down on solid ground, but you let her go. And now, you can see you were right to do so.

She has an obstructed view of the sky overhead. The darkness shimmers with streaks of green, the Northern Lights dancing across the stretch of black, dotted with stars. The fire crackles in front of you and Joel tosses another thick branch onto it, wrapping his arm around your waist as you adjust yourselves.

It’s Joel that interrupts Ellie’s sky-gazing, and the protective part of you is thrilled that he does. He gives a whistle and she turns, wide-eyed. “Come down from there,” he calls. “You’re gonna break your neck.”

She turns back, face tilted back up to the sky, and for a moment, you think she’ll pull the defiant teenager act and tell him to go to hell, but she doesn’t. You hear her boots touch down a moment later, snow crunching on impact, and she rounds the rock, coming to the fire and taking a seat across from the pair of you.

Joel shuffles and your eyes catch the silver glint of the flask. “What happened to rationing?” you mumble, chuckling as he tilts it to his mouth.

Ellie doesn’t miss a beat. “Can I have some?”

He shakes his head as he hands you the flask. “No.”

“What? Just to warm up,” she protests, her eyes sliding to you as you take a sip and try not to wince. “C’mon.”

You can hear Joel start to form the second no, but you beat him to it, screwing the lid on and tossing it at her. She’s beaming as she catches the flask, opening the lid and giving you both a little salute before taking a sip.

Her dramatic cringe makes you laugh and you can feel a chuckle rumble through Joel.

“Yep,” she declares, her face screwed up as she reaches across to hand the flask back to Joel. “Still gross.”

“Still?” you ask, lifting a brow.

Her eyes go wide as she looks at you. “I mean…ew.”

You bark a laugh, taking another sip after Joel. You’re suitably warmed, you decide, as the liquor slides down your throat. “Well, whatever you had before, I hope it was better than that.”

It’s silent for a moment as you all settle back. You can feel Ellie’s eyes on you from across the fire as Joel moves his arm up to your shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down your bicep. 

“You okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” she starts, looking down at her lap. “Yeah, I was just…You’d be a really cool mom, Liv.”

You’re not expecting her admission, and it manages to hit you like a ton of bricks. Your body goes nearly rigid and you feel Joel tense beside you, like he’s waiting for something.

Ellie gives you a soft smile and you school your face neutral, not wanting to give away the way your mind is spinning.

“Thanks, Ellie.”

Her eyes turn back to the fire and you feel Joel’s lips near your ear. Your mind is going a million miles a minute, blood thumping through your ears. All you can think about is Emily and Henry, Sarah, the kids you’ve held so dear to your heart all these years. You’d make a cool mom. 

Yeah, you like to think you would have.

And the fierce girl sitting across the fire from you, who’s managed to worm her way into your heart, hearing her say it out loud? It’s a punch to the gut, in a good way.

“You okay?” Joel murmurs, the words barely above a whisper. You nod slightly, leaning your head against his, your hand reaching out to cover his knee, palm rubbing at his jeans.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Ellie says, her voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. “Let’s say we find the Fireflies, it all works, they draw my blood and put it through some of their fancy machines and make a cure.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you draw your legs up to your chest, still huddled against Joel. You can hear the question in his voice when he says, “Okay?”

“Then what?” she asks. “Like, what do we do?”

“Oh, it’s we?” Joel quips, and you smack his chest, lifting your head slightly to shoot him a glare.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine, whatever, you two then. You can do anything you want. Where are you going? What are you doing?”

You sit up fully, your eyes staying on Joel. You want to hear his answer.

“It’s never been an option,” he says, meeting your gaze, clearing his throat. You can see him searching for the words, but his eyes don’t leave your face as he gives his answer. “Maybe…an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

Your brows lift. It’s not the answer you’re expecting, but it paints a picture in your mind all the same. A vivid one.

“Cool,” Ellie says, a smile in her voice. “What kind?”

“Sheep,” he says, and your brows shoot up. “I would raise sheep. They’re quiet, do what they’re told.”

There’s a point to his comment and you roll your eyes, turning your head to look at Ellie, who chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, okay. So, just you and Liv and a bunch of sheep. Sounds romantic.” She reaches over and pokes you in the arm. “You’re down with the sheep ranch?”

You scoff a little laugh, turning back to Joel. He’s still looking at you, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “I go where he goes,” you say with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter to me. Sheep, pigs, chickens, whatever. I always liked horses.”

Joel pulls you back to his side, fingers curling around your wrist and tugging you against him. You go willingly, glad to be enveloped in his warmth again, slinging your arm around his waist.

“And what about you?” he asks Ellie over your head. “Where are you gonna go?”

Her face goes almost wistful as she looks up at the sky, the stars and the full moon and the glimmer of the Northern Lights. “It’s probably because I grew up in the QZ,” she starts. “Behind you, there’s ocean, and ahead of you, there’s a wall. Nowhere else to look but up. I read everything I could in the school library. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favourite is?”

The passion in her eyes is infectious.

“Sally Ride,” Joel answers almost instantly and your brow twitches.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” Ellie repeats, triumphant. “Best astronaut name ever.”

But then she catches herself. You watch it happen, see the passion and excitement give way to something solemn and heavy.

“It’ll work, right? The vaccine?”

How this kid has managed to bowl you over with her words twice in the space of ten minutes is beyond you.

“It’s a little late to start wonderin’,” Joel grumbles, and if you weren’t stuck still, you’d smack him.

“I tried, with Sam,” Ellie admits, and your breath whooshes out of your lungs. After she told you, back in the hotel bathroom in Kansas City, you never told Joel. You weren’t actively trying to keep it from him, it just…

“Tried what?” Joel asks.

Her eyes shoot to you for a moment before she answers. “I knew he was Infected. I rubbed some of my blood into his bite.” You hear Joel’s sharp inhale and Ellie’s eyes flutter close, shaking her head against his impending anger. “I know, I know, it was stupid, but…I wanted to save him.”

Joel’s gripping your shoulder so tight you can feel every finger and you snake your hand up his coat, pressing your own fingers to his ribs. “Well, I reckon it’s a lot more complicated than that,” he tells her, his voice almost soft, and something in you swells at the thread of comfort in his tone. “Marlene, she’s a lot of things, but…she’s no fool. If she says they can do it, they can do it.”

The mention of her name makes you bristle, but you play it off, ducking your head against Joel’s side. Silence settles over the camp for a moment, only the sound of the crackling fire and the wildlife echoing through the night.

You can’t tell if Ellie’s pleased with Joel’s answer or not, but she changes the subject. “I can take a watch tonight, if you guys both wanna get some shuteye.”

Joel shakes his head, his chin rubbing over the crown of your hair. “I’ll take both. Get some sleep.” He pauses as she gets to her feet, and you follow suit, grabbing the rifle from where it’s propped against the rock you’ve been leaning on. “Dream of…sheep ranches on the moon.”

Ellie nods, and you see the corner of her mouth twitch. “I will.”

She disappears into the cave where you’d set up the sleeping bags and Joel grunts as he straightens, taking the rifle when you offer it. “And what should I dream about?”

You see the question sink in, his features twisting from hard to soft in a split second. Joel slings the rifle onto his shoulder and reaches up, curling his fingers in the collar of your sweatshirt, pulling you into him. “Baby, you should dream about a ranch too,” he tells you, leaning in until your nose nudges his. “Maybe not on the moon, but a ranch. Somewhere quiet, safe, warm.” He drops his jaw, giving you a soft kiss. Soft, but urgent, the kind that makes you want to melt into him. “Big ol’ bed upstairs, so I can have you whenever I want and not fuck up my knees.”

You bark a laugh against his mouth, kissing him again, hooking a finger into his belt. “Something tells me you’ll be too busy with your sheep.”

“Nuh-uh,” he protests, shaking his head, nose brushing yours. “Never too busy for my wife.”

You roll your eyes, lifting up on your toes as you wrap your arms around his neck, another kiss pressed to his mouth. It’s deeper, more demanding on your end, though you know it’s not the place or the time. The picture in your mind grows more and more vivid as you let your mind run with it, allowing yourself to feel like it’s a possibility.

If it works.

When you finally come up for air, Joel sinks back half a step, his lips swollen, and for half a second, you feel like that young girl in the hardware store, absolutely rabid for the man before you, stealing kisses in the alleyway. “Liv,” he says.

“Joel, are you—” you say at the same time, cutting each other off. Your unfinished question hangs in the air and you wonder if the worry you just tried to chase away, tried to bury under his musings of the future, is plain as day on your face.

You don’t wait long enough to tell, reaching up to rub your thumb across his bottom lip before turning on your heel and heading for the cage, calling over your shoulder to him, “Wake me for second watch.”

+

It’s not Joel that wakes you, but a bleary-eyed Ellie. She has the rifle in her hand, and as you blink sleep away, you can see that the sky is starting to brighten. What time…?

“Joel fell asleep,” she tells you as you sit up, rubbing a hand over your face. Sure enough, you look over, and Joel is sprawled on the floor at the mouth of the cave, head propped on your backpack. “I’ve been up a couple hours,” she continues, talking around a yawn, “but I don’t know how long he’s been out for.”

As silently as possible, you get to your feet, taking the rifle from Ellie. “Go lay down,” you tell her, slinging the gun over your shoulder. “I’ve slept long enough.”

She nods, brushing past you as you head for the cave’s entrance. You crouch near Joel, put a gentle hand on his chest, just to make sure he’s still breathing. He mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, heart thumping against your palm, and it’s proof enough. 

You rebuild the fire as you wait out the morning, the quiet sounds of the forest surrounding you. The rush of the river is faint from where you’re camped, and the sun tries to peek out around the clouds, the sky overcast again.

Maybe an hour later, Ellie re-emerges, sleeping bag wrapped around her shoulders, and parks herself next to you beside the fire. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, and she just grumbles, tilting her head onto your shoulder. You’re sat with the rifle between your knees, boots propped in the dirt, and you let yourself get lost in the flicker of the fire, the crackle of the logs, the far-off birdsong that makes the whole world seem less…bleak.

Every so often, Joel makes a noise, and your eyes dart over to where he’s laid out on the ground. “Still mumbling in his sleep,” Ellie whispers. Your jaw goes tight with every sound, ears perking to see if you can make it out, if he’s having a nightmare or a panic attack or—

There’s a scuffling sound, and he shoots upright, gasping.

“Liv!”

Ellie startles beside you with a quiet groan, and you get to your feet, leaving the rifle in her lap as you walk toward the cave. “I’m here, Joel,” you call, crouching before him, taking in his confused expression, the panic in his eyes. “Hey, we’re okay. Ellie woke up early and you were asleep. You never woke me up, so she took second watch and I took third.” You grab his wrist, pressing your fingers hard against his pulse. “Everything’s okay.”

He looks over your shoulder, his eyes going wide, and points at Ellie with the hand you’re not holding. “You gotta wake me up if that happens,” he scolds, pulling away from you and getting to his feet. You follow suit, putting yourself between the two of them. “You can’t do things like this, Ellie.”

“But I can,” she throws back, “and I did. You needed the sleep.”

Joel goes rigid, his jaw tight, looking at you, but you just lift a shoulder.

“I’m responsible for you,” he says, looking back at Ellie, then back at you. “Both of you.”

“Then don’t fall asleep,” Ellie retorts. “I was quiet, I checked my six, I looked for tracks, I found the high ground, and I kept watch. When I got too tired, I woke Liv up. Just like you taught me.” Pride swells in your chest and you bite back your grin. “What can I say, man? I’m a natural.”

You nearly sputter out a laugh, but Joel’s dry-as-all-hell uh-huh makes the noise die in your throat as he snatches the rifle from Ellie. They’re both quiet as he slings it over his shoulder, Ellie giving you a sideways glance, but then Joel gives her a nod, and you know it’s the closest thing she’s gonna get to an attagirl. 

“You wake me up next time,” he tells her, his brow hard, but it’s with concern, not anger. “Or Liv. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Ellie says, giving him a smug smile.

You cross your arms over your chest, watching them a moment longer before, “If you two are done, can we pack up and get this show on the road?” Joel grumbles at you as you brush past, but you just lean up on your toes as you do, brushing a kiss across his mouth. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’,” he mumbles, and returns your kiss with his own. 

+

It’s starting to snow as the bridge that will take you across the River of Death comes into view. Joel’s had you keep to the trees, and the warning shot he makes with the rifle makes your ears ring, but sends a flock of geese into the sky, their honking sure to rouse any other creatures nearby.

You wait a few minutes and…nothing.

“The River of Death,” Ellie muses, “and still no people.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs, and steps out of the tree line, the rifle still raised, ready to shoot if the need arises. You and Ellie follow him down the snowbank, and into the thicker copse of trees that leads toward the bridge. It’s oddly pretty, in a way. The wrought iron beams blanketed with snow, the trees that have started to encroach on the metal. It doesn’t so much as creak as you step onto it, the only sound is the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots.

Ellie keeps looking back over her shoulder, and you nudge her with your elbow after the third time. “We’re good,” you tell her, trying to be reassuring, and she just nods.

“I know.”

You make it across the bridge with no incident, but you’re the first to admit that the air feels different this side of the river. Still just as cold and biting as before, but…

You have no idea what’s coming.

It’s just as much walking, though you’re glad for the flatter stretch of land ahead of you. 

Joel and Ellie only keep up their comedy from the morning; at least it helps pass the time.

It starts with Ellie making some strange breathing sound. You ignore the first squeak, but when she keeps it up, you shoot her a look. “I’m learning how to whistle,” she tells you, thumb and middle finger jammed either side of her mouth.

“You don’t know how to whistle?” Joel asks, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“Does it sound like I know how to whistle?” Ellie throws back.

“…no,” comes Joel’s response, and you toss your head back and laugh.

She keeps doing it, blowing around her fingers, clearly annoyed. “Seriously though, how the fuck do you do that?”

“Talent,” he answers.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

When she looks at you, though, you lift your hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I can’t do it either. Not like that, anyway.”

A bit more walking, and Ellie has put herself at the front of the pack, walking backwards as she talks to you. Well, more to Joel.

“You should teach me how to hunt.”

“Huh,” is all he gives her.

“Huh,” she repeats, dropping her voice, “like, she’s a girl, she can’t handle it.”

“You can handle the shootin’,” he tells her, speeding up to walk past her. “Not so sure about the dressin’.”

“What’s the dressin’?” she asks, and you can’t hide the way your gut rolls as a memory bubbles up.

“The part where you take the guts out.”

“Oh yeah,” Ellie breezes, so nonchalant. “Why do they call it dressing? It’s like, they should call it undressing, cuz it is, it’s like undressing from the inside.”

“Can we talk about something else please?” you shout, squeezing your eyes shut to hide your nausea. When you open them again, Joel’s looking at you, the corner of his lips twitching. “Joel, please.”

“What?” Ellie asks, looking between the two of you. “What, what is it?”

“We used to go huntin’ out near Lincoln,” Joel says, and you groan, stomping your way past them, but not going out of earshot. “Nothin’ big, just rabbits, turkeys, that sort of thing. Bill liked rabbits, and after we got back, we skinned ‘em and dressed ‘em and hung ‘em up in the garage, but forgot to tell Liv that we had.”

“Oh, gross,” Ellie cries, and you whirl.

“Not just hung up in the garage, Joel Miller, you tell the whole story.” He’s pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh, and you’re trying not to punch him. “Tell her how you left the fuckin’ bucket of guts in there, too, and then asked me to go find a wrench or something and that’s the first thing I see.”

“I think that’s the loudest I ever heard you scream, baby,” he says, chuckling around the words. “All honesty, my first thought was an Infected had gotten inside somehow, even though I knew it was next to impossible at Bill and Frank’s. I go tearing in there and she’s flat on her ass, that bucket of guts is everywhere, and she’s got her hands over her face, refusing to open her eyes.”

“I tripped,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest. “Which could have been easily avoided if you’d just told me there were dead animals strung up in there!”

“Oh, baby,” he croons, closing the distance between you and hooking his arm around your neck, dragging you into him. “You’re not really still mad about that, are ya?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring him and looking at Ellie. “I still can’t look at rabbits the same way. That one we took the other day gave me nightmares.”

Ellie just laughs.

Joel presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth and you shove at him halfheartedly. Their giggles subside and you keep on, following the river until you find yourselves standing over a—

“Dam.”

You scoff, nudging Ellie’s shoulder. “You’re just full of the puns today, aren’t you?”

“Eh, she’s no Will Livingston,” Joel says, referencing the joke book that’s been your comic relief many a night since she’d first pulled out the puns.

“Yeah, but who is?” she grins, then juts her chin toward the dam, the rushing water below. “So that thing made electricity?”

“Yeah,” Joel answers, but starts to turn away as he continues, “but don’t ask me. I don’t have a clue.”

Her eyes shift to you and you bark a laugh. “He doesn’t know, and you think I do?”

“You know, you could’ve just made something up!” she laughs, and the pair of you follow after Joel. “I would have believed you.”

You keep walking, find yourself following another river, and you’re revelling in the feeling of the sun on the back of your neck, honest-to-god warmth on your skin despite the chill in the air.

“Look at that river; it’s crazy blue.”

Ellie trails behind a little and you tap Joel’s back to get him to stop, turning back to her. “El, what is it?”

She’s stopped in place, boots planted in the snow, staring out at the water. “What if this is the River of Death? What if the other one was just…”

Joel’s brow goes hard as he pulls out the map, staring down at it as he turns slightly, angling your steps in a slightly different direction. You tug on Ellie’s sleeve, trying to get her to follow when the sound of horses fills your ears.

They’ve over the ridge in an instant, hoofbeats thudding against the snow, kicking up sprays behind them. Ellie reaches for your hand and you grab her, positioning yourself in front of her as Joel steps in front of you, trying to find an opening as the horses and their riders surround you from all sides.

“Stay behind me,” Joel grits over his shoulder at you and you look to Ellie, lifting a brow. She nods in understanding and you do your best to ignore the twist in your stomach. They have guns, you realize. All of them. Pointed at you. “Put your hands in the air,” he says, and you listen, motioning for Ellie to do the same.

The wind howls, but even it’s not loud enough to cover up the thunder of your heartbeat in your ears.

“We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble,” Joel calls out, his tone placating. “We’re just passin’ through.”

“Drop the gun,” one of the riders calls and your breath stalls as Joel does as the man says, pulling the rifle from his shoulder and setting it down in the snow. “You,” the same rider calls, his eyes pinned on Ellie, “take five steps back.”

She stares at you, fear making her eyes big and wet and you almost drop your hands while Joel tries to reason. “How ‘bout we just talk this through?”

“How about you shut the fuck up?” the rider throws back. He has his gun trained on Joel, and the one to the left of him has one trained on you.

“Okay, easy,” Joel responds, and turns slightly, looking past you at Ellie. “You’ll be okay.”

She moves back slowly, and every step she takes feels like a punch in your gut.

“You been near Infected?” the rider calls.

“There’s no Infected out here,” you respond, finding your voice somewhere amidst your terror.

“The hell there ain’t,” the rider says, shaking his head. He whistles, the sound loud and sharp, and a dog starts barking in response. Your heart has now climbed into your throat as one of the other men leads the dog forward. “Last chance for a bullet. If you’ve been Infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.” The dog keeps barking, and your head is a mess of noise, your heartbeat and the barking and Joel’s you’ll be okay playing on a loop. If that thing gets close to either of you, you or Ellie, then—

It stops barking as soon as the man unclips the leash, and heads for Joel first. You’re holding your breath, frozen in place, as the dog sniffs at Joel’s boots. It jumps up, plants its front legs on his waist, cocks its head to the side as it looks at him. Joel’s just looking at the riders, and you’re grateful he’s not looking your way.

Apparently satisfied, the dog jumps down from Joel and turns tail, heading back to the man with the leash. “Like I said,” Joel says, “we’ll just move on.”

But the rider isn’t having it. “Now her,” he says, pointing the gun at Ellie.

It takes everything in you not to throw yourself in front of her. Joel looks at Ellie, then you, panic blooming in his eyes as the dog starts padding toward her. At the last second, it veers off, coming toward you instead, and the scar on your side seems to throb in response.

The dog sniffs at your boots the same way it had Joel’s, jumps up and puts a paw on your stomach as it sniffs more. You keep your eyes trained ahead, refusing to look at either of them until the dog drops down at heads for Ellie.

It barks once, and then Ellie starts to giggle.

You turn to look, your frozen state melting away, and find the dog licking her face, Ellie laughing away as she pets the dog. The man whistles again and the dog darts off. Ellie gets to her feet, and you try to angle yourself in front of her again, swallowing back the anxiety that just ripped through you.

“You just bought yourself ten more seconds,” the rider says, his gun now pointed at you. Somehow you feel more at ease with a gun trained on you than you did with the Infected-sniffing dog. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“I’m just lookin’ for my brother,” Joel calls back. “That’s all, nothin’ more.”

One of the riders toward the back of the circle, a dark-skinned woman with a mask covering half her face, cowboy hat on her head, nudges her horse forward, moving past the interrogating rider. The horse trots up until there’s only a few feet between it and Joel, before she pulls on the reins to stop it.

“What’s your name?” she asks, her eyes darting between you and Joel.

“Joel,” he responds, turns slightly and gestures to you, “and my wife, Liv.”

She juts her chin in Ellie’s direction. “And the girl?”

“My niece,” you say instantly, the lie spilling out before you can stop it. You hold your hand back toward Ellie and when she takes it, your heartbeat slows.

The woman slides from her horse, coming to stand in front of Joel. “I think you three need to come with us.”

+

They give you horses. Joel takes one, you the other, and Ellie slips into the saddle behind you, her arms tight around your waist as you ride. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a horse, but the beast beneath you seems friendly enough, and responds nicely when you dig your heels in, trying to keep up with the rest of the riders.

Soon enough, the high walls of Jackson come into view. It must be thirty, maybe forty feet tall, thick logs standing upright in the snow, patrols walking the top, spotlights currently turned off but still visible. When you get close enough, one of the riders waves a bright green bandana in the air, and the gate swings inward as you approach.

You tug on the reins, slowing your horse to a trot as you pass through. Ellie tightens her grip around your waist, her cheek pressed between your shoulders, and you suck in a breath, unsure what to make of the small town that lies within the high walls.

It’s everything the QZ never was. The storefronts look like something out of a Western movie, but it works. There are people everywhere you look, and they look…healthy. Well-fed. There’s not a beaten face to be seen. Back in Boston, you couldn’t go a block without seeing someone sporting a black eye or broken limb, FEDRA’s doing or the Fireflies. But here…it’s different. It’s all different.

There are snowmen lining the streets, kids laughing and playing, but some of them stop as the crowd of horses makes its way through. Joel trails behind you some, and you still don’t know where to look, when you hear him shout.

“Tommy!”

Sure enough, there he is. Your brother-in-law stands atop metal scaffolding, helping another man hoist a beam. He sees Joel, and then you, his eyes darting between and locking on his brother as he nearly leaps down the scaffolding steps. Joel gets off the horse, passing the reins to another rider, and you follow suit, scrambling down as gracefully as you can and handing the reins to Ellie, who takes them with wide eyes.

The Miller brothers meet in the middle of the road, Joel crushing his little brother in a hug, and tears spring into your eyes as you see Tommy start laughing, hugging Joel just as tight.

“What the fuck you doin’ here?” Tommy asks, still beaming as you step up to Joel’s side. “Liv!”

He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug that you return enthusiastically. The tears fall down your cheeks as he pulls back, touching a glove-covered hand to your cheek.

“You really let this fucker drag you halfway across the country?”

“We came here to save you,” you admit, and Joel lets out a wet laugh, his lashes clumped with tears as he claps his brother on the shoulder and pulls him back in for another hug. You step back slightly, letting them have their moment. As you look back at Ellie, who’s still perched atop the horse, something catches your eye across the snow-covered street.

“Cowan?”

PREV | NEXT

[cegiel-athelia]

Love in the Stars

(A Love and Deepspace x Qi Xi Tale)

This is a sequel to the Moonlit Orchid Day event on 10 August 2024.

I thought that it is important to educate the fans about the true nature of the event, that is, Qi Xi (七夕), commonly known to simply be the Chinese Valentine’s Day, but it is really more than just that. It is a love story. It is a story of broken hearts and eternal love all at once.

I have done my best to summarise the myth into an easier read for players, so please, enjoy.

Genre: Very Fluffy (and slight angst, only if you are able to catch the nuance.)

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

The low, soft humming of the engine of the car as Zayne was driving us back from the festival was steady and consistent amidst the melodic chorus of the song, “Mountains in the Night”, which he said that he would play enroute our way home to Linkon.

I laid on my side in the reclined passenger seat, gazing tenderly at the stoic, yet magnanimously caring man before me - the same person I have known since my childhood, and I was grateful that fate had not only given us the chance to reconnect after years had passed, but that we now had something that is more than special.

His soft chuckle cut through the ambient noises when he noticed my staring, and he said in a voice that was gentle, “what is it?”, as he removed his grip from the steering wheel to take my hand in his, intertwining our fingers – a gesture confined to our private moments together.

I shook my head, a fond smile playing on my lips as I replied, “Dr Zayne, what did you wish for on your sky lantern?”

He let out another amused chuckle at my question, releasing my hand to shift the gear. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t come true.”

I smiled knowing that that was not exactly true, but I did not insist. Instead, I murmured, “I saw you peeking while I was writing my wish on my lantern. How much did you see?”

A blush formed on his cheeks which spread to the tips of ears, almost imperceptible by the dimness of the night and confines of the car. He cleared his throat as if to brace himself before he spoke. “I saw that you wrote ‘I wish to be with Dr Zayne forever’, and you punctuated it with five exclamation marks.”

I groaned an agonised sound, covering my face with my palms from the embarrassment, and his chuckle drifted to my ears again. In concession, he spoke in a gentle voice, “I wished for the same thing with you, but I excluded the exclamation marks.”

I lifted my head from my hands and for a fleeting moment, I saw the curve of a smirk on the sides of his lips before he returned his attention to the road ahead.

We stayed there in the comfortable silence for a while, until I soon found myself drowsy with sleep. In defiance against the lull of slumber, I asked, “Dr Zayne? Could you tell me more about the origins of the festival?”

The familiar chuckle came once more, one that was of tenderness and affection as he obliged. “Sure,” he muttered, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “Moonlit Orchid Day is really the ‘Qi Xi Festival’. It falls on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month.”

He paused, slowing the car at the corner to make a turn. “On Qi Xi, the stars align, such that, it allows the constellations, ‘Vega’, ‘Altair’ – the star-crossed lovers – and ‘Deneb’ to come together. Deneb forms a bridge over the Milky Way to enable Vega and Altair to meet once every lunar calendar year.”

He glanced over at me and a wistful smile graced his features as he spoke. “In the Chinese mythology, Altair is the man known as Niu Lang, and Vega, the girl named ‘Zhi Nu’. There are several versions of the story, and this is but one of them.”

Zayne’s eyes were on the road, but his gaze appeared distant, as if, deep in thought. “Zhi Nu, together with her sisters, are the daughters of the queen of heaven, the Queen Mother. One day, they came to earth and bathe in a river in the mountains. Niu Lang was smitten by Zhi Nu’s beauty and he stole her clothes, which prevented her from returning to heaven with her sisters. Zhi Nu eventually fell in love with Niu Lang and they married, and were blessed with two children.”

I continued to listen to Zayne, or at least, I attempted to. However, his voice, combined with the low droning of the engine and the occasional sound of crunching asphalt under the tires, created a harmonious lullaby and my eyelids grew heavy as the minutes passed us by.

Still, I strove to listen to his words in my subconscious as I felt myself succumbing to the lull of sleep. “When the Queen discovered the marriage – one that was forbidden – Zhi Nu was immediately seized and returned to heaven. Niu Lang finding that Zhi Nu was gone, searched for her with his two children, embarking on a journey to heaven, intent on reuniting with his wife.”

Zayne’s expression became pensive, although his eyes did not leave the road as he navigated towards home. “To thwart his advances, the Queen ‘drew’ a river with her golden hairpin - the Milky Way is symbolic of that river – making it impossible for Niu Lang to cross.”

“Niu Lang mourned for his wife by the river, unable to cross it, and soon, the news spread and a flock of magpies, having compassion for Niu Lang, formed a bridge for the lovers to meet. The Queen eventually allowed the lovers to meet only once a year on that magpie-bridge – the constellation, Deneb.”

“That one day a year, is Qi Xi.” Zayne’s voice trailed off as he concluded the story, turning to look at the figure beside him, now soundly asleep.

Her breathing was slow and even, the glow of the passing streetlamps faintly illuminated her features, and her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheekbones. He felt a breath catch in his chest at how ethereal and fleeting she looked. He reached a hand to brush a lock of hair away from her face, careful not to rouse her in the process and he could not suppress the tender smile forming on his lips.

He leaned in to whisper ever so quietly, “I will love and find you in every lifetime,” and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

===============-END-=================

[neon-kazoo]

For the Greater Good

(Hero POV)

I walked into the warehouse alone. No weapons, no mask, no backup.

Every rise of my feet felt like a climb up a mountain, every fall feeling like a step off a cliff. I could have sworn I didn’t take a single breath as I walked into the wide open space, crates and barrels scattered around in a typical warehouse fashion. The lights that remained on buzzed from the corner of what appeared to be a break room and from various machinery peppered by the garage-like doors.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going, just that I was supposed to be here, at this exact time.

I arrived on the block two hours early, and spent every last second before 2 o’clock alternating between pacing and curling up into a ball and rocking myself on the empty sidewalk. I finally stepped into what I estimated to be the middle of the space, virtually incapable of taking another step. My muscles quaked and I considered if I should just give in to the exhaustion and lie right here until someone came and got me. My pride suggested I stay upright, so I settled for a comprise of leaning heavily against the nearest weighted crate. I crossed my arms in what should have been a nonchalant appearance, but it was really just to keep my hands from shaking by my sides.

I took a few deep breaths and checked my watch.

2:02

God, I wanted to laugh. If there was any humor left in this situation I would have. I tried to keep my mind blank, waiting. But as the minutes ticked on, my determination waned.

I couldn’t leave.

Wouldn’t.

Lightheadedness swam through my brain, and I relented and lowered myself to the floor as black creeped in around my vision. I laid flat on the concrete ground, kicking my feet up onto the slats of the crate I was previously leaning against. The lights above me were dim, but I still closed my eyes in aversion to the brightness. I needed dark, calm. I needed to be anywhere else but here.

I checked my watch again, then pillowed my hands behind my head. Tears welled up in my eyes against my will.

2:05

Screw pride. Pride went out the window a long, long time ago.

I let the thin little salty rivers run freely down the sides of my face to pool uncomfortably at my ears. I was surrendering to my enemies, why not surrender to the tears too?

An eternity passed before footsteps finally echoed around the building. I didn’t bother to get up, not even to move. I didn’t bother to stop crying either, in fact the tears may have only gotten stronger as I stayed rooted in place.

“Sorry for the delay, we had to make sure you weren’t followed,” a voice announced itself. I didn’t turn towards it.

“You doing alright down there?” It asked, sounding infuriatingly genuine.

“Perfect. Never better,” I choked. There was no hiding the crack in my voice now.

“Shit dude, I didn’t think this would get to you that bad.”

What did you think was gonna happen? I was just gonna skip to your door with a couple of flowers and some handcuffs all gift wrapped for you with a wide ass smile on my face?

“Do you…need a minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A minute or two passed before I gathered what was left of my composure. The tears stopped flowing and my head stopped swimming. I removed one boot after the other from the ledge they rested on and started the slow journey back to my feet.

“Ready?” The voice I finally matched with a sight asked. Henchman.

I sniffed, wiping my nose on my sleeve before nodding solemnly. This was by far the most courteous capture I’ve ever had the pleasure of falling victim to, hilarious given the circumstances.

“I’m gonna pat you down,” he warned, and I nodded my acknowledgment. Gentle hands brushed my body and found nothing, as promised. A light touch gripped my arm and pushed towards a path between the crates.

“Let’s go.”

We walked in silence for a while, I was too close to the emotional edge to break it. Henchman had no such reservations though.

“I could tell the guys the extra time was from a fight,” he suggested lightheartedly.

I merely shook my head.

“Yeah you’re right, probably a bad idea.”

Despite myself, a small smile crept past my lips. His words brought the only comfort I’d felt all day.

With every step I could feel my clarity returning.

I was going to be fine.

We walked out a side door and outside into the gravel, where it appeared a caravan awaited. I might have been flattered if I didn’t feel so damn helpless.

“One Hero, clean as promised,” I was presented to the arc of people gathered in various states of masked.

“You were supposed to secure them, Henchman,” Villain looked me up and down, then shot at annoyed look at the man at my side.

Henchman did not reply, only looking from me to the crowd closing in around us, then back to me and returning to Villain knowingly. So I definitely looked as bad as I felt; it was nice to know my face was making its debut red-blotched and tear stained no doubt with the edition of heavy bags under the eyes.

Villain simply shook his head, then stepped forward to grab me.

“Wait,” called another voice, and I struggled to identify its origin until a blue and gray clad person stepped forward. “How do we know it’s them?”

He stared at me in blatant disbelief, and I found the energy to be a little offended.

Like anyone else would do this. Like I would take the risk to let them.

Various people exchanged looks, and I struggled to believe that no one had actually thought this part through. Several looks pinned me down expectantly, and I also found the power to be a little bit annoyed.

Of course their lack of foresight would become my responsibility.

Nonetheless, my eyes roamed the crowd, before pinning down an unsuspecting figure in a suit with red chrome outlines. I pointed to them, before pulling down the collar of my shirt to reveal a thick pink scar stretching horizontally about an inch below my collarbone. Chrome stepped closer through the crowd to see, then nodded his approval. Villain stepped forward to grab me once more, but he was stopped by someone decked out in forest green.

“Your hand,” they indicated, and I brought up my arm to reveal the back of my right hand and yanked down my sleeve so they could trace the jagged scar carved down to middle of my forearm.

“That enough? Are y’all convinced?” I spun around, pinning several people right back with their own gazes. I seemed nothing like the person on the warehouse floor.

No, with every passing second, I was feeling more and more like a hero.

I guess they were in fact convinced, because I was finally escorted into an SUV and placed in the middle of a bench seat sandwiched between Villain and a larger man I barely recognized. The whole process was pretty ego-inflating honestly.

Unfortunately, Villain did finally get his wish of restraining me after the car had rolled to a stop and I was transferred into a building via an underground garage.

I didn’t think.

Couldn’t.

My fate was in the hands of my enemies, and I had just handed it over.

[pawseds]

Dear Hrodwyn

[843 words; a Lancer RPG fic]

06 SEP 5010u

Dear Hrodwyn Vorobyev, what to say to you? You have her eyes You have your father's name When you came into the world you cried And it broke my heart

Here, on this ice planet in its lonely orbit, life thrived.

As the sun's first rays carve peaks out of darkness, see how bones of copper and steel are nestled between treacherous mountains. See how they are buried beneath white snow and frozen in azure depths, weathered by the elements but preserved by solitude.

Quickly, before the sun parts with the land again, look how this metal skeleton twists along the planet's veins, the great frozen river. The river streaks blue and green across white, and with the sun's warm blessing, it brings forth minerals and algae, water and valour.

From afar, this planet is death. But closer, the river carves a path through the white void. The river carves life.

I'm dedicating every day to you Domestic life was never quite my style When you smile You knock me out, I fall apart And I thought I was so smart

Here, on the fringes of exploration and expansion, life thrived.

No one recalls when the first colonies arrived, but the winds remember what they came here for. It was not for the bones of metal, but it was for what the bones once were. It was for the red-hot core of energy housed within, the dying heart of a star.

See how greed tries to dig its venomous claws into the stars. See how, in greed's self-declared war against itself, it tears apart scraps of alloys, weapons of titanium, and frames of carbon fibre. It is a hunger that ravages; it is a hunger that tears its stomach inside out to house the mass graves of the first colonies.

It all ends like how it all first began: with silence. Life, innocent in ignorance, crawls out of the graves to start anew. No human remembers what they came here for.

The wind warns them in whispers, but it cannot control who listens.

You will come of age with our young nation We'll bleed and fight for you We'll make it right for you If we lay a strong enough foundation We'll pass it on to you We'll give the world to you And you'll blow us all away Someday, someday

Here, on footsteps that follow the river eternally, live thrives.

From dust, tiny specks come together like ants to form new colonies. Though humans have greed, they also have resilience, intelligence, and creativity. Observe how they dig through the snow with their own hands, wrangle with tooth and leather and stone, and explore for years to reignite the machines that first brought them here. Watch as they create tools with the guidance of ghosts. Watch as they teach themselves to walk, to run, and to fly once again.

What was first a single colony in the beginning has now scattered into multiple colonies -- some big, some small. The biggest colonies were grown on the secret to reawakening cores. Their strength fuels machines, their warmth radiates from hearths, and their light is a beacon from which cities are built around. But though their light welcomes all to hide from the frigid cold and dark days, the secret of the cores remain tightly grasped within the palms of handpicked engineers.

Cores are scarce and so are the cities that followed. In their wake, smaller settlements are nurtured around other sources of life: the geothermal energy volcanoes bring, the lamps and heaters machines bring, and the fresh food and water rivers bring. Trade routes are forged between these settlements, and when the first port to the rest of the galaxy opens in the largest city, the settlements begin crossing paths more and more like constellations across the ink-black sky.

But some colonies do not settle. Some continue to fare across the white void as their ancestors once did. Forever walking, forever migrating, these nomadic colonies follow the planet's orbit as they seek the longest days of warmth, the longest hours of light. The sun is their beacon, their core, so these colonies continue to follow it: living off the river that melts and freezes and melts, marching across the planet's equator back to where they began again and again and again. ⠀ Nothing changes from this never ending track. In these nomadic colonies, the scouts go scout for shelter and danger on foot, the hunters go hunt the feared and the fearing on machines, and the rest of the farers follow the path cleared through the snow.

Nothing changes until a settler hears the song of a farer.

Nothing changes until the settler, with her wit and her machine, joins the farer on his eternal voyage; and the farer too embarks on a new eternal voyage of walking in the settler's shoes and seeing through the stars in her eyes.

With time comes love, and with love comes life.

Yeah, you'll blow us all away Someday, someday...

Life learns, life changes, and life thrives.

---

I wrote this all the way back in 22 May this year, and here it finally is with some light editing! (Don't mind the grammar errors, it is late and I am tired lmao). I ported the Birdfam yet again into Lancer, in which Gavrill Vorobyev is, yet AGAIN, my PC! (I just really want him on a Swallowtail idk I think it fits him well) The biggest differences here is that he's 21 instead of 41, his wife Leyna is alive, his kid Hrodwyn was just born (coincidnetally, the campaign kicks off a day after), and he doesn't have thirty four mental illnesses.

I do not take credit for this worldbuilding! This planet is directly ripped off of the planet the Birdfam originally came from, which was from a 4e campaign. So it's my GM who came up with this; all I did was write about it here.

(i'm gonna throw in all the hamilton references i want FIGHT ME)

[mydarlingdearestdead]

The Things We Do For Love - Chapter Nine

The amphitheatre, erected by Hephaestus’ hand upon the soft earth, seated the council as well as the addition of an assortment of other minor deities intrigued by the displacement. The world stood still and silent. The moon hung suspended overhead, bathing the scene in her ethereal silver glow- Selene’s gift to human kind. Those who take comfort in the darkness trust her to light their way and she, in her eternal gratitude, could do no less.

Ganymede was notably absent. Hebe knelt rightfully to the left of her mother. Stone-faced, she looked as if she may have been mourning her previous banter with Dionysus.

Zeus, recovered from the previous days’ battles, greeted all with a short, hostile statement. He concluded his speech with the acknowledgement of a final verdict to be reached by dusk. These words prompted a glance in Apollo’s direction.

Apollo retorted, rather spitefully in all truth, by addressing not only the council but the entire congregation.

“You each know the story of Hyacinth of Sparta. You have undoubtedly heard whispers of Zephyrus’ name and screams of my own. I implore each of you, open your minds to the truth, as opposed to the tabloids.”

A beautifully naive nymph swooned, while an elderly satyr caught her and blushed profusely. Eros, looking upon them, shouldered his bow. Aphrodite nodded approvingly, braiding her sheaf of black hair over one shoulder.

Apollo plucked his lyre from his shoulder. Truthfully, he had come to think of the melody as belonging to Hyacinth. Regardless, he continued to give it as charity to each ear in attendance. It was a quick tune now, mimicking the impatience which drove men to complete feats of pure idiocy.

Each Olympian shuffled uncomfortably in turn. Hermes’ caduceus talked amongst themselves until he threatened to express mail them back to his palace. Upon hearing this, they fell into a charged silence.

“What about Daphne?” The demand of a single, courageous nymph. “Her tree sits by my river. Every day, I see Hyacinth’s grief for his sister. I saw what you did to him.”

Hush fell upon the congregation.

Zeus, voice like thunder rolling beyond the mountains, shattered the delicacy of the act, “What about Daphne, dear son? My kindness saved her, did it not?”

Apollo’s toned fingers strayed. An awful note reverberated. Artemis flinched. She extended a hand, reaching for her brother. He paid her no heed, too preoccupied for familial bonds.

In that moment, bathed in moonlight, Apollo strengthened.

Artemis, perhaps, lending her twin courage despite his brash dismissal, or Selene, taking pity upon the young god.

"I wish not to speak of Daphne." He told the awaiting council, "I wish only to speak of matters of relevance- Those of Hyacinth, of love and of his pending immortality. That is, if you, dear council, do not take issue."

Athena nodded approvingly, grey eyes narrowed. Zeus grimaced and Dionysus grinned in turn. Aphrodite offered a shallow thumbs-up gesture, biting her lip. Hera merely smirked, Hebe’s hand grasped in her own.

Apollo avoided each of their gaze in turn, breathing steadily. He finally laid his eye upon the moon above.

Quite abruptly, he realised the true reason for the council's ready abandonment of Olympus. Zeus put up no protest as he wished to deprive him of the safety of home, Athena relished the challenge it would bring and Artemis knew the truth. Quick-witted, she was always sharper of mind than her brother.

The planet below was his true domain. As Hades' ruled the underworld, Apollo ruled everything light touched upon. No consequence could be made to night or day, neither rural or urban.

Light rules all.

A recess was ordered swiftly as Apollo demanded it, seeking to collect his thoughts. During this, Hades melted into the shadows in a vain attempt to escape his boisterous brothers and Hestia nursed a fire in the centre hearth.

Finally, Apollo was called upon to deliver his ultimate argument.

“Ah…” Athena halted Apollo’s preparation, “If I may see your lyre?”

Apollo paled, “Why should you… My lyre is of no consequence to this case, Lady Athena.”

“Then you should be willing to give it up.” She reasoned. She held out a hand, awaiting his resignation.

Zeus, patience waning, snapped, “My gods, just hand it over! Some of us wish to return home before the next century dawns.”

Upon hearing such words, Hera rolled her eyes.

Head bowed, Apollo did as commanded. He turned once more to face the council. The melody’s absence, however, held him accountable. His head felt lighter than Zephyrus’ winds. Simply, Apollo was no longer a prince of Olympus, but rather a man, standing before those much larger and of far more import than him, and hopelessly pleading with them.

Athena looked upon him with a disappointment to rival her father. She held his lyre aloft in a truly tantalising nature. She wished to deprive him- Not only of comfort, but of the control he carried with him.

“Hyacinth…” Apollo croaked, “He didn’t deserve that.”

He stood as he had on that day- In a field of wildflowers and wholly alone- and Apollo crumpled to his knees. He heard Artemis’ shocked inhale in time with the sharp snapping noise as he broke the necks of the flowers beneath his knees.

Scrambling for purchase, his fingers sunk into the soft earth.

“Apollo.”

Zeus’ voice. Furious.

“Apollo?”

Artemis. Concerned.

“Apollo.”

Athena. Disappointed.

She render his lyre to the affect of gravity and, with a devastating twang, it landed before Apollo's crumpled figure.

The sun had begun to rise, shedding light upon Apollo’s arched back.

Yet, just as it had lightened, the sky began to darken above their heads. After a moment of murmured inquiry, each Olympian came to their solemn conclusion in turn: The very sun which hung at their will was cowering behind the shield of the moon.

When Apollo spoke, he did so with the reverence of a priest preaching for selfish means, "I will have Olympus in ruin before I allow his death to continue unhonoured."

No peer dared raise protest.

The sun moved on, and the day returned. Apollo's expression, however, did not lighten.

Zeus’ white-knuckled grip on his throne was the only indication to his apprehension. Athena returned Apollo’s lyre. He tossed it aside carelessly, caring not for the ridiculous thing.

“The verdict,” He declared, “Will be delivered at the break of dusk.”

Apollo smirked, “Oh, well… I suppose I will sit and fix my lyre.” He sat, cross-legged, in the field, surrounding by a patch of splendid crimson blooms. Demeter floated toward him, reaching to pluck one.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve seen these before.” She commented cheerily.

“They’re called Hyacinths.”

“Oh…” She retreated a step, “How lovely.”

Masterlist

Ao3

[guzhufuren]

New uncensored chinese period BL The Mountains and Rivers Are Forever Silent (山河永寂)

The drama is based on the novel of the same name by Yihanhe (一寒呵)

Won't be broadcast in mainland China, will air through an international platform.

Filming start: beginning of January 2025 Filming period: 20 days Casting call: December 13, 2024

Summary: Thousands of years ago, the mountains and rivers were destroyed and wars started raging everywhere. Sixth prince Xiao Yunze had no hope of ascending the throne to the Southern Kingdom. By chance, he saves Zhao Ziang, who was trying to assasinate the prince. As they get to know each other, gradually feelings beyond mundane develop between them and they fall in love. As the political situation in the Southern Kingdom changes, Zhao Ziang kills the prince to protect Xiao Yunze and let Xiao Yunze succeed to the throne. The death of the prince causes a rift between the two, and Zhao Ziang resolutely leaves and embarks on the journey again. Several years later, Zhao Ziang becomes the emperor of the Northern Kingdom. With his efforts, the Northern Kingdom is about to unify the Central Plains. But when Zhao Ziang faces the last obstacle - king of the South and his ex lover Xiao Yunze, whom he had missed for many years, he doesn't know what to do. Will love win or power win?

Character profiles:

Xiao Yunze Male, visual age around 20 years old. He is slender, loves playing chess, calligraphy and painting, and is elegant in every move. The sixth prince of the Southern Kingdom, with a refined and timeless temperament. He is intelligent and sensitive, talented, and has expanded his music and poetry. He has a gentle personality but is not weak. He has a keen insight into people's hearts, but is willing to stay out of the game and abandon the desire to fight for power. He advocates elegance, likes to live in seclusion in the mountains, and is tired of the whirlpool of power, but he always has a deep attachment to family affection, especially to his brother, the prince, Xiao Yunqian, with complex feelings, respect but also alienation. In the chaotic situation, he became a calm and deep character with his gentle but firm character.

Zhao Ziang (Xiao Yunze's cp) Male, visual age is around 25 years old. A hero in the north, with a tall figure, a resolute face, firm eyebrows, a violent temper, and both wisdom and martial arts. He is resolute and resolute, and is aggressive and enterprising. He is calm and resolute, has extraordinary strategic vision and execution, and is a hero in troubled times. He is informal, but respects the strong and the wise, and always pursues his ambitions. Although he is in the midst of power and killing, he is also sincere and righteous, and has a heart for his country. But when facing Xiao Yunze, he is always indecisive.

Xiao Yunqian (Xiao Yunze's elder brother) Male, visual age around 25 years old. The prince who shines in the court is determined to gain supreme power. He can sacrifice all emotions in pursuit of power, but finally loses in emotions. He has a strong desire for power and has shown extraordinary political wisdom and strategy since childhood. He has a cold temperament and is deeply scheming. Although he looks calm and restrained, he is actually full of ambition. He is not obsessed with sensual pleasures, but pursues power itself with a cold and resolute will, instead of sympathizing with the common people. In the process of pursuing power, he regards all obstacles as stepping stones. He has a complicated relationship with his brother Xiao Yunze. They grew up together when they were young and had the warmth of brotherly love, but they became increasingly alienated in the power struggle. Xiao Yunqian is very oppressive in his dealings with others. He is a strong man who integrates coldness, decisiveness and ambition. In his world, family affection and feelings often give way to power. He is a typical hero in troubled times.

Guo Zheng (Xiao Yunqian's personal bodyguard) Male, 20 years old. The prince's personal bodyguard, who has practiced martial arts for many years and is very capable. The prince's personal bodyguard, who is naturally fond of martial arts, is rough but delicate. Many years ago, he fell in love with Yin Shan at first sight. Although he had no interest in poetry and books, he was subtly exposed to the elegant world because of Yin Shan. Guo Zheng admired Yin Shan's talent and gentle temperament. Although he was not good at speaking, he protected him silently with practical actions. He hides a tenderness under his strong appearance, burying his loyalty and admiration deep in his heart. He is a contradictory combination of cold and hot in troubled times.

Yin Shan (Xiao Yunze's childhood sweetheart) Male, 20 years old. A scholar who has loved poetry, calligraphy and painting since childhood. The son of a civil official in the court, he met Xiao Yunze since childhood because of their similar interests and they have a deep friendship. Yin Shan is well-read in poetry and books, and has outstanding talents. He especially loves the love stories described in books, and is full of idealistic pursuit and loyalty to love. He has a gentle personality like jade, but he has a rare firmness and perseverance, and always accompanies Xiao Yunze. Yin Shan advocates elegance and has no intention of fighting in the world. He only wants to use his talents and sincerity to protect the deep friendship and unknown emotions. He is a touch of peace in the troubled times.

Zhao Jifu (Zhao Ziang's younger brother) Male, 18 years old. Grew up in a temple. Compared with his brother Zhao Ziang, who is heroic and valiant, Zhao Jifu embodies more calmness and strategic precision. He can even be said to be a two-faced person. He is humble and gentle on the surface, and is good at hiding his true intentions. But in fact, he is a scheming man and a master in the political arena. He has shown extraordinary adaptability in complex situations, and is good at making secret plans. He is an important force in promoting the family's hegemony. His temperament is restrained but his edge is hidden, showing a kind of hidden strong style. He is a wise man and counselor who cannot be ignored in troubled times.

Han Zaizhou (Teacher of Xiao Yunqian) Male, 60 years old. An important official in the court, he has a high wisdom in politics and worldly affairs. The core of the prince party, the veteran of two dynasties of the Southern Kingdom, calm and composed, and has a thorough understanding of power and politics. The previous emperor of the Southern Kingdom is old, and Han Zaizhou has to start planning for the next generation of the Southern Kingdom. Faced with prince Xiao Yunqian who has lost control in pursuit of power, Han Zaizhou has to persuade Xiao Yunze to participate in the fight for the throne in order to stabilize the court, because he feels affection for the younger generation of princes.

*text from the informational brochure was converted with image to text online programs, translated through google translator and edited by me with some help of online dictionaries. i do not speak chinese, so there are most certainly mistakes in the text. purpose of this translation is to give you the general idea

[makapatag]

Warang Bidong was no stranger to blood. The cool stream water rushing; the sanguine carried away by the cleansing foam. The bodies were to be eaten by the waters because that is their destiny. There was no destiny but consummation.

His hand on his naga-hilted kampilan tightened.

"May the rainbow bring you to glory," he whispered. Fifteen bodies of teenaged warriors, surrounding him, a halo. The final line of defense of Banwa Himagudu-on. The wounds he had sustained were memory. The sins lashing his heart burned bright.

"Are my sins eternal, learned one?" he had asked the makinaadmanon once, after seeing him in a distant mountain. The makinaadmanon, wreathed in nothing but cloud and illumination, shrugged.

"Nothing is eternal," replied the sage, a toothless grin.

"Will my guilt endure?" he asked again, because his conscience was heavier than the damascened blade he had been granted by that Merchant Prince of Sonyoh.

"It will be the heaviest thing you must carry," said the sage. "But carry it you must. Like how the cook must cook or how the spear must cut."

"And if I cannot take it anymore?"

"You have no choice," said the makinaadmanon, and their voice held the gravity of one thousand ancient forests. "You must take it. Find those who will heal you through it."

Warang Bidong of the Damascened Blade could shed no tears for the young lads. He had no choice. Far behind him, a voice (svelte, professional, hoarse with bloodshed): "Noble Warang Bidong, is this all that is left of Banwa Himagudu-on?"

Antulanga stood over one of the bodies.

Warang straightened. "You watch?"

"The Eyes of the Naga Harimau must… lest the realm fall into chaos." She examined one of the boys. Dead. "Clean work. Healer-like."

"Think you that I deem to betray the Ponong Raja?"

"With the decisiveness that clearly whets your blade I doubt it." Antulanga shrugged. "You've done your work, Kadungganan. The barge home is ready."

"I need no such help," said Warang. The water sloshed; he moved onto land.

"Growing doubts in your line of work, murderer?"

"What honor can there be in such a profession?" Warang continued walking, towards the village he had slaughtered. "I am the basest of the base."

"Nonsense," said Antulanga, dancing over water to tiptoe on a river stone. "To kill in your caliber takes centuries of work."

"Make not a fool of me, I beg of you. I kill at the behest of warlords and aristocracy. I dance a farce enough."

"That is all we truly are, ser knight."

Silence was his reply. Antulanga shouted out before he walked out of earshot: "The Dimantag watch your movements."

"I am loyal to Bishaya," he replied, without turning around. As is obvious.

"The puppeteers steer your shadow," Antulanga called.

"No other choice is mine." The blade continues to cut: Warang Bidong trekked past a slaughtered village before boarding the barge back to Kangdaya.

- From THE SONG OF THE THOUSAND STAR SKEWERING SPEARS, as chronicled by the warrior Antulanga of the Luminous Knife, descendant of the Astrologer Kinnatha of the Cloud Continent.

[genrefluid-arts]

Golden River

Characters: Fontina Cookie (oc) Spring Fondue Cookie (Oc) Golden Cheese Cookie (mention only sadly) Burnt Cheese Cookie

Rating: 13+ (mostly general audiences)

Word Count: 1650

Includes: Oc x Canon

Finally able to write this one-shot thanks to @its-actually-ash on tumblr 

Quick Summary: Reviving the city is meant to be a slow and easy process. But even if your being steady with it, chances are some citizens are gonna have a hard time waking up in their new bodies. Fontina Cookie is no exception.

Fontina Cookie awoke to find herself floating in a silent, empty void. As her eyes fluttered open, she uncrossed her arms, emitting a soft, barely audible moan as she straightened her body. She lets her mind become clearer before she takes a look around, her eyes staring out into the darkness, questions racing inside her mind:

Where is she? Is she alive or dead? Did Her Majesty succeed in reviving the kingdom, or did she fail? And was this a result?

‘No, no…let’s not be harsh here…’ Fontina Cookie thought to herself, sighing

She takes a look around, searching for other cookies.

"He…Hello?" She muttered, "Is anyone there?"

There was no answer; only her words echoed in the still open air. Fontina Cookie could only grimace at this fruitless attempt. She called out once more, louder and more desperate.

“Please…! Someone! Anyone!!”

Again, no one answered and her echoes ranged louder than the previous ones. Whether or not she was alive, she started to feel her own body sink into an anxious shake, holding herself in her arms. This entire place feels like an illusion, an illusion that she is trapped in alone.

Minutes passed, and she began to feel even lonelier than she had been her entire life. From the moment her father died to when Burnt Cheese Cookie started to refrain from talking about his problems to her.

…

Is it meant to be this way… To remain in a place of eternal silence?

Fontina Cookie let out a lamented sigh as she closed her eyes again, simply listening to the tranquil ambiance of the void. Slowly, she felt her body drift on its own accord towards an unknown light, but she couldn't fight it. Wherever she was going, she embraced it…

—

The next time Fontina Cookie opened her eyes, she found herself in a vast field of orange and yellow flowers. The pink-yellow-haired cookie stood up, her white dress brushing against the lush grass as she carefully took a look at her surroundings.

An endless expanse of trees engulfed the area, stretching as far as the eye could see, their towering heights rivaling mountains. Just before that, a glistening river flowed across the region, reflecting the bright sunlight.

Fontina Cookie gasped in awe as she tilted her head in curiosity upon spotting a figure near the wider part of the river. The figure was holding a long prong-like staff in one hand and carrying a pot with blue straps.

Curiosity got the best of her as she inched towards the mysterious stranger. "Excuse me!"

The stranger paused in what they were doing, giving the cookie a gentle and curious smile as she approached.

"Hello," Fontina Cookie stammered. "I was wondering if you know where I am."

"Ah, Fontina Cookie…" The stranger replied. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The pink-yellow cookie took a step back, a terrified expression on her face. It took a few mere seconds for the stranger to realize their mistake.

"Ah, my sincere apologies," they said, bowing graciously. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Spring Fondue Cookie, and to be straightforward, you are my descendant."

Fontina Cookie furrowed her eyebrows. "It doesn't seem straightforward…"

Spring Fondue Cookie let out a chuckle. "While I can agree it’s quite cumbersome from your perspective, it is the truth."

Fontina Cookie remained silent, fiddling with her hands as her lips pressed together.

“And to answer your question, you’re currently in the realm of the golden river. At least, your mind and soul are.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her head tilting.

The mysterious cookie cleared their throat. “Back in reality, your body has been perfectly reconstructed by the hands of average cookies. However, unlike the first few who were successful with reconnecting, your soul and mind are still adjusting to your body.”

“And…you know this, how?” Fontina Cookie quizzed.

“The golden river is considered to be an all-knowing source of knowledge … .one that flows back and forth. It knows.”

Fontina Cookie let out a hum, her knuckles rubbing against her chin, her mind putting together pieces of a puzzle, remaining still as Spring Fondue Cookie rested their hands on their lap, waiting with patience and grace.

Reconstruction…body…soul and mind….wait-

"So, that would mean that her radiance succeeded!" she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

The stranger nodded in agreement. "Yes, it certainly appears that way. But she still has a long road ahead, for herself and her kingdom."

Fontina Cookie stood there, a puzzled expression returning to her face.

"So…if you don't mind, can you grant me a reason why I came here?" She asked.

"Well…" Spring Fondue Cookie began, tapping their hand against their staff. "Before you finally awakened, I wanted to meet you as a descendant of mine. Thus, I brought you here."

"But why would you want to meet me for?" Fontina Cookie asked, a solemn expression on her face. "In life, I was just a simple cookie who lived in a life of both luxury and complexity."

They lightheartedly chuckled at her response. "The same reason why I desire to meet all my descendants—to ask about their lives, rather it be simple or extravegant before they pass on."

"Pass on…" Fontina Cookie repeated. "You say you meet your descendants? Than…than you met my father!?"

They nodded. "Why yes…Mild Provolone Cookie, the one who took care of lush gardens."

Fontina Cookie stared down at the grassy plain, a hint of sorrow in her expression. "…How was he when he met you?"

"Just as he was when he crumbled on his deathbed, at peace. He felt like his life had been fulfilled. Though he desired to see his daughter and son-in-law union, he was overall content."

The pink-yellow hair cookie stood there in silence, taking a deep breath in and out. "At least he was at peace."

The serene stillness of the moment was only interrupted by the soft murmurs of the glistening river as it flowed leisurely, accompanied by the gentle rustling of the leaves in the calming breeze.

"Another question, if you don't mind. What…are you?" Fontina Cookie's tone seemed sincere, avoiding trying to sound judgmental. But as Spring Fondue Cookie smiled at her, it seemed they didn't mind.

"I am, more or less, the spirit of a cookie whose body crumbled a long, long time ago, and I was given a realm to watch over as a result of my deeds before my life came to an end."

"What were your deeds? Were they good or bad?" Fontina Cookie quizzed.

"…It depends." They plainly said, their expression still sending chills along the sweet-smelling cookie.

"Kindly speaking, when do I wake up?"

"Soon," they replied. "You have time for one more question, if you are not yet satisfied."

"Is that so?" Fontina Cookie, rubbing her arm. "Have you been watching me the whole time?"

"Not all the time, no. I mostly know you from your father. But, I had attempted to reach out to you when you died on that very day…but, I guess your queen had other plans in mind."

Spring Fondue Cookie paused, a sad look in their eyes. "Her method nearly unbalanced the scale of life and death in an attempt to play god, but then again, who wouldn't go through such extreme lengths for their people?"

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, and the wind grew harsher as the streams of the Golden River became loud. Fontina Cookie braced herself as the wind blew against her body, her hair waving in the wind.

"The time has come, Fontina Cookie. I pray we meet again much, much later…"

"So I will be seeing you again?"

Spring Fondue Cookie shrugged. "I hope so. It wouldn't hurt, besides…maybe you'll talk about your children…"

Fontina Cookie's eyes widened in shock, just in time where everything to go black.

Fontina Cookie let out a gasp, clenching the blanket tightly as her eyes shot wide open. She took deep breaths, in and out. In and out, slowly but surely pacing herself. By the end of it, she let out a sigh.

'…This still feels like a dream somehow.' Fontina Cookie thought to herself as she slowly sat up, looking around the room. It was almost empty and bare, the only thing keeping it from being a plain sight to see was a few bouquets sitting in vases.

There wasn't too many, but there was a generous amount. She couldn't help but quietly giggle to herself before getting temporarily blinded by a beam of sunlight discreetly peaking through the curtains.

With her eyes squinted, she opens the curtain, her eyes widening in surprise as she finds a flock of cheesebirds outside her window, their chirps filling the air as if they were singing.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she gazes towards the horizon with a serene, yet small smile. Letting the warmth of the sun brush against her dark skin.

"Fontina…Cookie….?" She heard a familiar voice muttering behind her, it sounded hoarse yet relieved at the same time. Her mouth slightly gapped open as she slowly turned her head towards the culprit, and there he was…

Standing by the doorway, frozen in place, was Burnt Cheese Cookie. Though a man who usually lacked emoting most of the time, he was staring at her with a mixture of shock, sorrow, and relief.

The harpist could only give him a reassuring smile. "Hello, Burnt Cheese Cookie.."

The silence continued to follow, but before Fontina Cookie could react, the gatekeeper suddenly rushed forward, his arms wrapping around her as he pressed his head against her shoulder, firm yet gentle. The harpist hugged back as tears dripped down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry…" He kept uttering, nearly inaudible. His hand gently combed through her hair.

"It's alright…" Fontina Cookie replied, feeling her own tears drip down her cheek.

[valanvar]

50 dialogue prompts set in the dark, high-fantasy universe of Tolkien, inspired by Middle-earth’s intense struggles, deep mysteries, and complex characters. They lean into the darker themes, exploring the shades of betrayal, loyalty, loss, and the consuming nature of power.

𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖊, 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖟𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖊 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖈 𝖓𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗.

"This road leads only to ruin... yet it is the only path we have left."

"If you wish to see the dawn, cast away the ring, for it will end us both."

"They call me kin, but I know the gleam of greed in their eyes."

"Not all shadows are cast by the Dark Lord; some are born within our own hearts."

"Do you truly believe these stones remember? That they hold whispers of ages past?"

"You swore no oath to the light; will you then take one for the dark?"

"In war, we lose parts of ourselves that no magic or power can restore."

"The elves may sing of peace, but even they sharpen their blades in secret."

"I have walked among the dead, and even they fear what stirs in Mordor."

"Not every hero wears armor, and not every villain bears a crown."

"What good is victory if we become the very darkness we fought to defeat?"

"Do you not hear the mountains mourn, the rivers weep, for what is to come?"

"Your blood is rich with power, but power has a way of devouring its master."

"Once, I fought for honor. Now, I fight only to survive."

"You think love can save us? In Mordor, love is just another weapon."

"The stars fade, the trees die, and even the earth trembles. What hope have we?"

"Darkness has many forms, but the worst is that which lies in the heart."

"They say no one escapes the mines of Moria, but I have… at a terrible cost."

"There is no throne worth sitting upon if it’s bought with the souls of the innocent."

"The wise speak of light and dark, but they forget that shadows give both shape."

"To rule is to destroy, whether by peace or by war."

"I saw the fires of Mount Doom and felt the weight of eternity pressing down upon me."

"It is not the sword that wounds most, but the choice to wield it."

"Elves may dance in moonlight, but they leave death in the shadows."

"These stones were once proud, now they crumble, just as kingdoms do."

"Do you feel it? The world grows colder, and not from winter alone."

"Some battles are not won by strength, but by the silence of a shadow."

"To seek immortality is to walk hand-in-hand with madness."

"Even Sauron was once noble; do not let your heart follow his path."

"It is not the fire that consumes, but the spark that ignites it."

"The wind carries whispers of betrayal, and even the trees cannot be trusted."

"For every sword raised in courage, there lies a thousand hearts broken."

"Once, I trusted the light, but now I see it can blind as surely as darkness."

"The line between enemy and ally is as thin as a sword’s edge."

"When all you hold dear is lost, tell me then, what price would you not pay?"

"In the end, the strongest weapon is neither sword nor spell, but despair."

"I remember when this valley was green… now it reeks of decay."

"The One Ring may be gone, but evil does not die so easily."

"Every victory costs a piece of our souls; what shall we have left?"

"How long can a heart bear the burden of hate before it becomes what it despises?"

"They say the Shire is untouched… but shadows creep, even there."

"To be mortal is to suffer, and to be immortal is to watch suffering without end."

"Magic is neither light nor dark; it is only as twisted as the hand that wields it."

"The fire in the mountain may sleep, but it has not forgotten its rage."

"Even the bravest fear what lies beyond the veil of death."

"They call it victory, but what they don't see is the cost yet to be paid."

"Beware of those who offer help in dark times; even shadows seek companions."

"Hope is the cruelest gift of all; it leads you onward, even unto ruin."

"I have walked the long path of sorrow; tell me, what would you give to walk another?"

"Evil lies not in power, but in the hands of those who would use it."

[the-chronicle-of-holy-days]

Day 16

Liber LXV Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente

II

I passed into the mountain of lapis-lazuli, even as a green hawk between the pillars of turquoise that is seated upon the throne of the East.

So came I to Duant, the starry abode, and I heard voices crying aloud.

O Thou that sittest upon the Earth! (so spake a certain Veiled One to me) thou art not greater than thy mother! Thou speck of dust infinitesimal!

Thou art the Lord of Glory, and the unclean dog.

Stooping down, dipping my wings, I came unto the darkly-splendid abodes. There in that formless abyss was I made a partaker of the Mysteries Averse.

I suffered the deadly embrace of the Snake and of the Goat; I paid the infernal homage to the shame of Khem.

Therein was this virtue, that the One became the all.

Moreover I beheld a vision of a river. There was a little boat thereon; and in it under purple sails was a golden woman, an image of Asi wrought in finest gold. Also the river was of blood, and the boat of shining steel. Then I loved her; and, loosing my girdle, cast myself into the stream.

I gathered myself into the little boat, and for many days and nights did I love her, burning beautiful incense before her.

Yea! I gave her of the flower of my youth.

But she stirred not; only by my kisses I defiled her so that she turned to blackness before me.

Yet I worshipped her, and gave her of the flower of my youth.

Also it came to pass, that thereby she sickened, and corrupted before me. Almost I cast myself into the stream.

Then at the end appointed her body was whiter than the milk of the stars, and her lips red and warm as the sunset, and her life of a white heat like the heat of the midmost sun.

Then rose she up from the abyss of Ages of Sleep, and her body embraced me. Altogether I melted into her beauty and was glad.

The river also became the river of Amrit, and the little boat was the chariot of the flesh, and the sails thereof the blood of the heart that beareth me, that beareth me.

O serpent woman of the stars! I, even I, have fashioned Thee from a pale image of fine gold.

Also the Holy One came upon me, and I beheld a white swan floating in the blue.

Between its wings I sate, and the æons fled away.

Then the swan flew and dived and soared, yet no whither we went.

A little crazy boy that rode with me spake unto the swan, and said:

Who art thou that dost float and fly and dive and soar in the inane? Behold, these many æons have passed; whence camest thou? Whither wilt thou go?

And laughing I chid him, saying: No whence! No whither!

The swan being silent, he answered: Then, if with no goal, why this eternal journey?

And I laid my head against the Head of the Swan, and laughed, saying: Is there not joy ineffable in this aimless winging? Is there not weariness and impatience for who would attain to some goal?

And the swan was ever silent. Ah! but we floated in the infinite Abyss. Joy! Joy!

White swan, bear thou ever me up between thy wings!

O silence! O rapture! O end of things visible and invisible! This is all mine, who am Not.

Radiant God! Let me fashion an image of gems and gold for Thee! that the people may cast it down and trample it to dust! That Thy glory may be seen of them.

Nor shall it be spoken in the markets that I am come who should come; but Thy coming shall be the one word.

Thou shalt manifest Thyself in the unmanifest; in the secret places men shall meet with thee, and Thou shalt overcome them.

I saw a pale sad boy that lay upon the marble in the sunlight, and wept. By his side was the forgotten lute. Ah! but he wept.

Then came an eagle from the abyss of glory and overshadowed him. So black was the shadow that he was no more visible.

But I heard the lute lively discoursing through the blue still air.

Ah! messenger of the beloved One, let Thy shadow be over me!

Thy name is Death, it may be, or Shame, or Love.

So thou bringest me tidings of the Beloved One, I shall not ask thy name.

Where is now the Master? cry the little crazy boys.

He is dead! He is shamed! He is wedded! and their mockery shall ring round the world.

But the Master shall have had his reward.

The laughter of the mockers shall be a ripple in the hair of the Beloved One.

Behold! the Abyss of the Great Deep. Therein is a mighty dolphin, lashing his sides with the force of the waves.

There is also an harper of gold, playing infinite tunes.

Then the dolphin delighted therein, and put off his body, and became a bird.

The harper also laid aside his harp, and played infinite tunes upon the Pan-pipe.

Then the bird desired exceedingly this bliss, and laying down its wings became a faun of the forest.

The harper also laid down his Pan-pipe, and with the human voice sang his infinite tunes.

Then the faun was enraptured, and followed far; at last the harper was silent, and the faun became Pan in the midst of the primal forest of Eternity.

Thou canst not charm the dolphin with silence, O my prophet!

Then the adept was rapt away in bliss, and the beyond of bliss, and exceeded the excess of excess.

Also his body shook and staggered with the burden of that bliss and that excess and that ultimate nameless.

They cried He is drunk or He is mad or He is in pain or He is about to die; and he heard them not.

O my Lord, my beloved! How shall I indite songs, when even the memory of the shadow of thy glory is a thing beyond all music of speech or of silence?

Behold! I am a man. Even a little child might not endure Thee. And lo!

I was alone in a great park, and by a certain hillock was a ring of deep enamelled grass wherein green-clad ones, most beautiful, played.

In their play I came even unto the land of Fairy Sleep.

All my thoughts were clad in green; most beautiful were they.

All night they danced and sang; but Thou art the morning, O my darling, my serpent that twinest Thee about this heart.

I am the heart, and Thou the serpent. Wind Thy coils closer about me, so that no light nor bliss may penetrate.

Crush out the blood of me, as a grape upon the tongue of a white Doric girl that languishes with her lover in the moonlight.

Then let the End awake. Long hast thou slept, O great God Terminus! Long ages hast thou waited at the end of the city and the roads thereof.

Awake Thou! wait no more!

Nay, Lord! but I am come to Thee. It is I that wait at last.

The prophet cried against the mountain; come thou hither, that I may speak with thee!

The mountain stirred not. Therefore went the prophet unto the mountain, and spake unto it. But the feet of the prophet were weary, and the mountain heard not his voice.

But I have called unto Thee, and I have journeyed unto Thee, and it availed me not.

I waited patiently, and Thou wast with me from the beginning.

This now I know, O my beloved, and we are stretched at our ease among the vines.

But these thy prophets; they must cry aloud and scourge themselves; they must cross trackless wastes and unfathomed oceans; to await Thee is the end, not the beginning.

Let darkness cover up the writing! Let the scribe depart among his ways.

But thou and I are stretched at our ease among the vines; what is he?

O Thou beloved One! is there not an end? Nay, but there is an end. Awake! arise! gird up thy limbs, O thou runner; bear thou the Word unto the mighty cities, yea, unto the mighty cities

Souce: https://www.reddit.com/r/OurFlagMeansDeath/comments/uzwrsm/ive_forgotten_to_post_the_last_few_cards_of_the/