#the matron knows where they escaped to and will be followed up on in the main campaign hehehehe

[pretentious-art]

your honor i love her

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER SEVEN

07 : INVESTIGATIONS

CHPT. SUM. : you investigate the mysterious room you first woke up in while james, sirius and peter investigate where remus disappeared to. 

LENGTH : 9.5k

TAGS : reggie baby is too precious ; the making of the marauders ; remus needs a hug ; remus' first transformation ; madam pomfrey is there for him ; madam pomfrey is mother ; reader is also mothering ; no orion because he's being served justice ; kreacher is in on it ; detail on reader's bcakground revealed ; walburga's plotting clues

CONTENT WARNING : dead animal ; impications of animal cruelty/abuse ; cancer diagnosis ; life-altering surgery mentions

← PREV. 06 : POTIONEER | SERIES M.LIST

Hogwarts | 5th September 1971

From very young, Remus has grown a habit of being well-prepared for things, primarily out of necessity and fear. Fear of himself and the necessity to keep others safe from the monster that he was. His parents were adamant in doing everything they could to vanquish the prejudice surrounding lycanthropes and even more determined to erase his views of himself because of his lycanthropy. He is their only son, the light of their world and the most precious being to exist in their lives. Remus will always be grateful for their efforts and unwavering love for him but the situation is bleak. It’s hard to escape the nasty whispers and unsavoury gossip that go around about his kind — not that he wanted to be a werewolf in the first place… 

He’s lucky enough to be accepted into the greatest wizarding school in Britain by Albus Dumbledore. Despite knowing of his condition, Remus was allowed to attend Hogwarts on the condition that he be carefully monitored and cared for by the school’s established matron, Madam Pomfrey. The conditions were explicitly stated in a separate letter his parents received atop his letter of acceptance to the prestigious wizarding school. That day was a dream come true, Remus almost felt feverish holding the letter in his hand and reading about all the things he needed for the start of his tuition at Hogwarts. He couldn’t believe his ears when his parents assured his insecurities by stating they received a letter written by Albus Dumbledore himself in the caring for his ‘unique constitution’. The letter clearly stated that Remus was free to use an abandoned shack for his transformations, it was far enough from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to ensure the safety of students and villagers of the respective areas. Madam Pomfrey was to escort Remus to the shack before every transformation and would be the first to fetch him after, ensuring that he was well taken care of throughout his academic career. 

Remus worried that he might break through a window or door but Dumbledore’s clairvoyant nature accounted for that in his letter. It was explained how the shack no longer had any working doors or windows for exit or entry and that the only entrance was via a secret passageway under the whomping willow. That willow was planted to disguise the entrance of the shack and, due to its violent nature, would attack anyone that drew near and disrupt its many branches. The procedure for calming down the tree would be explained by Madam Pomfrey when Remus arrived and would be approaching his first full moon. Everything was taken care of and Remus, in his relief, was free to feel the excitement of every other student invited to attend Hogwarts.  

Tonight would be Remus’ first transformation. A Sunday. The timing was poor, it meant that Remus would be missing his first few lessons of the day if the night proved to be especially terrible. Nevertheless, he’ll try his best to push through, the idea of doing catch-up work wasn’t a welcomed one, especially when so early on in the school term. The entire day, he had been especially antsy and quick to temper, unintentionally putting his close group of friends on edge. Every outburst was followed by a quiet but sincere apology and, although Sirius, James and Peter were put off by his strange behaviour, they couldn’t help but worry for their close friend. Their friendship was fairly new but there was already a brotherhood there that was undeniable and hard to suppress. The fact that they shared a dorm room only reinforced the bond between them. 

Their concern was obvious and Remus was happy to indulge in it, it fostered a familiar feeling similar to the one brought on by his parents whenever the effects of his condition became particularly unpleasant. And, although it was comforting, Remus made sure to keep his distance. The entire day, Remus was tormented by his conflicting emotions. He was worried about his friends finding out about his condition, worried that his mood swings and irritable nature made the monster that he was obvious. His usually polite mannerisms took on a more brutish design, his movements were rougher, his jaw always ticking about, wanting to gnaw on something, his joints sensitive and tender, building up throughout the day. The unfamiliar environment pinched his nerves and made him highly sensitive, he was scared about any potential mishaps that could happen, many of which, many could occur as it would be his first transformation. He hated days like this but they were his most important days too; he had to be extra careful.

Although James, Sirius and Peter were perfectly justified to snap at Remus for being so ‘unlike himself’ —as Peter put it, a little too lightly Remus would argue— their levels of concern far outshined their frustration over his behaviour. He only hopes that after this is all over, they will be able to forgive him for the personality shift and things can go back to normal without too many questions being asked of him. 

Earlier that day, Madam Pomfrey made sure to visit him, pulling him away from the group for a private talk although she kept their hushed conversation within view of many other students.

“How are you feeling so far? Is everything okay?”

“Just normal stuff, I’m fine,” Remus assured but his tense shoulders spoke the truth, exposing his internal worries and growing discomfort. He looks around, only to avoid the curious eyes of other students, especially his dorm mates and close friends. He wonders why their ‘private’ conversation was being done in the eyes of so many other people, when she first approached him for a quick but discreet talk, he expected her to take him someplace private too but that wasn’t the case.

“Honesty takes you a long way, Remus,” she eyes him sternly but there’s a softness to her gaze as well. 

“…I don’t feel good. I never feel good,” he bites his lip in an attempt to keep his shaky voice steady and looks to the ground to disguise his watery eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his side, partially disguised by his large woolly jumper — an expression of anger at the unfairness of his state but Pomfrey’s caring hand against his shoulder settled his rage almost immediately. 

“I’m very sorry, dear,” they share a brief but understanding look, “I wish you could do more for you but here,” she hands him a small note before promising to meet him for his transformation later that night and leaving with an elegant swish of her matron dress.

It was a purposeful performance, Remus quickly gathered after her leaving, something to show others, especially his close friends, that something medically related was wrong but should remain only between them. It was clever. He carefully tucks away the sick note she had given for him to use as the perfect excuse should Filch catch him in the hall out of bed.

Remus holds that same note like a lifeline while dressed in his pyjamas and piquing the curiosity of his dorm mates. He makes the excuse of feeling ill and insists that he go to the hospital wing alone. He stresses the word when his friends shuffle to the edge of their beds. James and Sirius were strong protestors, blocking his way when he tried to swiftly slip away. Their disagreements delayed his journey, pushing him close to snapping harshly but thanks to Peter’s shy input and hesitant smile, James finally conceded and held Sirius back with him. Finally, Remus could go with a small smile of thanks as James continued to hold Sirius back. Remus continued to hear his friend’s protests even through the door he softly closed shut behind him and began his search for the school matron.

Meeting Madam Pomfrey for the first time was nerve-wracking. Remus had made a point of seeking her out on their first-day tour of Hogwarts. He was nervous and remembered feeling so small under her gaze when he had first introduced himself, all while his friends and classmates remained preoccupied with a brief tour of the hospital wing around him. She knew what he truly was and dreaded the feeling of facing her criticism and repulsion. But he had no reason to be afraid nor so self-deprecating before her; when he looked up from his shoes, he was met with a kind and reassuring smile. There was understanding behind her gentle gaze and a silent promise to take good care of him through the warmth of her hand as she softly petted his head. He hears her soft whisper of assurance: you’re in good hands, dear. That was all he needed, all he needed to trust her. She didn’t judge him, there wasn’t a single drop of animosity or loathing in her eyes and gentle touch. He will remember that day, her acceptance, forever; he believed only his parents had the capacity to care for a monster like him but she refuted that without a single word.

“I am here to make sure you’re well taken care of, Remus,” Pomfrey comments softly as she leads him through an inconspicuous passage, bypassing most of Hogwarts’ stone halls and towering staircases. Regardless, the passage still stretched on forever before Pomfrey was finally leading Remus out onto a hill that housed the isolated cabin. As stated in the letter, it had no windows or doors, all traces of such entrances were boarded up and Remus felt the unsavoury feeling consume the depths of his stomach when comparing the shack to a private jail cell. 

“I apologise for its sorry state, Remus” Pomfrey sighs in disappointment, her frown remaining despite his words of assurance. She carefully approaches a knot at the base of the gnarled tree before leading him down another tunnel, one with walls of dirt rather than stone, “I wanted to, at least make it more accommodating for you but to keep suspicions at bay and activity around the shack should be kept to a minimum, Dumbledore insisted that it remains unsightly,”

“It’s okay, really,” Remus musters a small smile and assures her again, unaware of how he makes her heart clench painfully. Such a young boy doesn’t deserve to experience this type of prejudice or mistreatment. She’d much rather patch up miscellaneous injuries from innocent falls and moments of misjudged hazards than treat a sweet, innocent child for such horrific injuries, caused by an affliction he did not want — something hatefully thrust upon him due to bitterness and vengeful desires. Pomfrey was informed of Remus’ situation well before the Hogwarts acceptance letters were sent out and, filled with heartache and sympathy, resolved to care for Remus as if he were her own son. The letter of gratitude she had received from the Lupin parents only fuelled her unwavering will. It was also soon established that she would send letters to them after every full moon reporting on the state of Remus’ conditions, to keep them informed and assured of his wellbeing. They were good people and they had a lovely son. It was horrible what had become of their family due to ignorance and the thirst for vengeance. Lyall Lupin will regret that fateful day until his last breath. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t blame himself for his son’s mistreatment and lycanthropy. 

Stepping into the dust-filled shack, Remus takes a moment to look around, shivering at the low temperature of the room before moving to the centre and facing Pomfrey. The matron moves to the fireplace and lights it ablaze with a swift wave of her wand before facing him with a kind smile. However, Remus, seeing the lack of chains casts a worried glance at her.

“Are you sure I won’t be able to hurt anyone in here?” Remus asks before Pomfrey can say much else. And, again, the matron is astounded at the child’s strong character. Despite his condition and the prejudice he faces for it, he worries for others more than himself.  

“Professor Dumbledore made sure of that, I promise,” Pomfrey goes up to Remus and kneels before him to get at eye level, “You have nothing to worry for. You are safe,” uncertainty remained in Remus’ gentle, brown eyes and it didn’t leave until Pomfry assured him of everyone’s safety as well, “everyone else will also remain safe,” That was all Remus needed to feel at ease and timidly wave her off as she leaves through the tunnel. Outside the willow comes to life again, swaying against the push of the wind and sensitive to the presence of unwanted strangers. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Screams rang out through the night, horrific and painful, that was what had woken Sirius up. Shaken by the disturbing sound, Sirius clambers out of bed to look out of the dorm room window. Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing. 

“What is that screaming?” Sirius utters, his grey eyes searching the landscape through his window for some form of explanation. 

“I don’t know but Remus still hasn’t returned,” James speaks up from the shadows, nearly making Sirius jump out of his skin. 

“W-wait, Remus isn’t back yet?” Peter asks, also slipping out of bed and the three make their way over to their friend’s absent bunk. “Where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” James grins and holds up a cloak. 

“How is that gonna help us find out where Rem—” Sirius begins, rubbing his eyes from sleep but stutters to a stop when James’ figure disappears beneath the fabric. The eldest Black brother shares a look of surprise with Peter before turning a grin back to James who was now a floating head. 

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

“Will we all be able to fit inside?” Peter’s eyes swim with a healthy level of uncertainty, only to be pulled under the cloak despite his protests. 

“We’ll fit, just keep in time with my pace and be very very quiet,” James warns and the two nod affirmatively, Sirius being much more enthusiastic compared to Peter’s hesitance. 

“I hope we find, Remus soon,” Sirius comments under his breath, pressed against James’ right as Peter staggers along at James’ left. 

“I know… with all that screaming outside, I hope he isn’t in any trouble.” The three make their way to the hospital wing but falter at a hallway junction. Which way was the hospital wing again? 

“I-I think we should go right,” Peter helpfully stutters after some thought. 

“I thought it was left?” Sirius scratches at his head as James gnaws on his inner cheek. 

The three collectively decide to go right for the time being and if it’s wrong, they simply turn back and go the other way. Sirius didn’t anticipate having such an adventure through the halls in the middle of the night and, although it was underpinned by their concern for Remus’ whereabouts, he couldn’t help but feel exhilarated by the escapade. It was thrilling to challenge the rules and go against them. Sirius was well aware of this already but it’s remarkably more exhilarating when sharing the experience with other people, people that the young Black had formed a close brotherhood with. It was a bond he was quickly growing attached to. Of course, no one could ever replace Regulus as his real brother but Sirius enjoys not being the older brother for once. He enjoys having friends of the same age and not being weighed down by responsibilities or a pressing urge to protect them. They all stood on level ground, shoulder to shoulder and fuelled with equal trust for the other. Sirius quickly realised that, if he were to get in trouble for their misbehaviour, he wouldn’t mind too much. 

“Damn it, I think it was left after all,” James curses and steers all three of them back the way they came. 

“S-sorry you guys,” Peter squeaks and Sirius can just about feel the heat of embarrassment from his friend’s face against his shoulder. 

“Mistakes happen, no worries, Pete,” James doesn’t seem bothered at all, Sirius and Peter can practically hear him grinning through his words. 

“Yeah but, next time, we should go where I say first,” Sirius cheekily comments, getting a light shove from Peter and chuckles lightly. 

Their search continues but ends early when they’re caught red handed by Filch. The halls had gotten too dark and doing ‘lumos’ beneath the invisibility cloak was useless so James had to tuck away their only cover to continue forward, only for Filch to round the corner and smirk wickedly at them. It was good night of mischief while it lasted, they just wish they managed to find Remus before getting caught. Their friend remains the prominent concern in their minds. 

Filch had taken them straight to Professor McGonagall who now eyes them narrowly. “Why exactly were you three out of bed past curfew?” Filch remains in the far corner of the room, observing the scene and relishing in his deliverance of misery.

“We wanted to know what the screaming was about,” James fibs smoothly, not wanting to out Remus. Sirius nods along beside him after catching onto his friend’s intentions.

“But weren’t we—”

“Just heading back,” Sirius finishes and turns to Peter with wide eyes, pinning him to the spot, “we really didn’t stay out too long, Professor, can’t you let this slide?” Sirius smiles pleadingly but their transfiguration professor is unaffected and swiftly assigns all of them detention. “Filch will take you back to your dorms and you will stay there, understood?” 

“Yes, professor,” they say in unison. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Hogwarts | 6th September 1971

It’s the next day and Remus still hasn’t returned. It was not lunch and the trio were beginning to really worry for their friend. 

“We need to find Remus. We should skip History of Magic, it isn’t all that important anyway,” James’ words make Sirius wince ever so slightly, remembering your wisdom of the past providing the perfect lessons for a better future — it was an important subject to learn and Sirius had agreed with you.  

“B-but what if we get in trouble?” 

“Remus is more important than history, Pete,”

“I-I guess—“

“Wait! Look who it is, lads?!” Sirius points and begins to cheer at the sight of Remus hobbling over to their table with a crooked smile. The trio rise from their seats and immediately rush to his side, eying his awkward ambulation but don’t breathe a word. 

“What happened to you? Where have you been?” James asks as Peter nods along, still pointedly looking at his hobbling. 

“I was feeling sick remember?” Remus shrugs.

“Is that why you’re walking funny?”

“Y-yeah,” they finally sit back down at the table. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” Peter begins to shake at the thought of hurting himself the way Remus seems to have done. 

“Not really. Madam Pomfrey says it’ll go away through the day,” assured and satisfied with his answer they help him pile up his plate before continuing to eat. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Sirius asks through a mouthful of food. 

“Making sure I don’t get behind on work and doing them in the hospital wing,” their jaws drop at his level of studiousness, “yeah, I asked Madam Pomfrey to get the assigned work from classes so I can do them without getting behind,” 

“You’re the academic of the group then,” James comments and grins deviously, “hey, can I copy off you in class?”

“Shove off, James,” Remus smiles when James laughs good-naturedly. It was then that the group thought it fun to retell their adventure the night before, all of them grinning when Remus goes bug-eyed at the discovery of James’ invisibility cloak.

“I’m sorry you all got detention,” Remus feels more than guilty. He didn’t realise they would go so far for him and, although it was flattering to know that they would, he felt horrible that it ended in them getting detention. The brunette was surprised, however, when the group easily shrugged it off. 

“We’ll be doing it again soon, anyway,” James smirks, shocking everyone but Sirius is soon grinning beside him. Remus laughs in disbelief but feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders — he managed to land himself a really good group of friends here; it’s more than he feels deserves. Peter seems to be the only one nervous about getting in trouble again.

12 Grimmauld Place | 12th September 1971 

Today, Orion wasn’t present at the dinner table; his stomach had been too weak to hold much food. Not long after a meal, he’s having to make yet another painful, arduous, karmic trip to the toilet. You, unfortunately, had to reveal the truth to Regulus after having lunch without a trace of his father in sight. You didn’t give much detail about Orion’s condition, just that he was having stomach problems and would be occupying the toilet closest to his home office and to avoid that area at all costs. Your baby flushed a soft pink and immediately moved the topic forward, making you giggle. He’s such an upright gentleman, trying to keep the subject off unsavoury matters, especially over the dinner table. Conversation flows naturally and there are brief pauses where you both focus on your plates, providing the perfect opportunity for your mind to wander. 

You can’t find that blasted first room anywhere. You’ve searched the entire house and… nothing. The troubling situation has you scratching your head; how can a room no longer exist? This is a magical world full of witches and wizards so you gather that magic may be responsible for the missing room. It’s probably similar to the Room of Requirement. Now, it was the question of why. Why does a dark, pureblood family need a magic room that can disappear? With a humourless chuckle, you realise you’ve answered your own question. The Blacks are a pureblood elitist family that dabbles in the dark arts, of course, they would have a secret room that can disappear. That’s probably the only room they allow themselves to practice the dark arts in. But why did you wake up in that room specifically? 

Lost in thought, you barely register the way Regulus repeatedly calls to you. He’s seated directly to your right at the table so your distracted attention makes him furrow his brows. When you finally snap to attention and look at him with an apologetic smile, his darling features are crumpled into an expression of worry. His concern was sweet and your heart warms at being blessed with such a caring son. He’s truly an angel compared to his biological parents; it’s the world’s greatest mystery why Regulus Black was born to such a reprehensible pair of parents. 

“Is everything alright, mother?” 

“Right as rain, dear,” he looks spectacle but doesn’t press further, happy to flash you a smile before returning to his dinner. “…I do have a question, however, do you mind helping me with something, please, sweetheart?” perhaps knowing where to look would be better. Both Sirius and Regulus were witnesses to your appearance just before you fainted that day, he’s sure to know the location. Regulus eagerly nods his head, still chewing on his mouthful and not wanting to be rude, “Do you remember the first night I had that horrible fainting spell?” 

“Yes, Mother?” he looks guilty remembering the moment he left with Sirius to the library, where they planned on getting through some boring, last-minute homework for their private tutors. They were upset at your dismissive words, claiming you didn’t have sons. It made Sirius snap rudely before stomping away as Regulus scurried behind him, not wanting to face more of his mother’s hurtful disdain. It isn’t until the morning after that they realise you were suffering enough to faint. Sirius stubbornly refuses to admit to his shameful behaviour but Regulus is drowning in guilt. He hopes you don’t look badly on him for that time, Sirius too. The relationship between you was much better now, brighter and warmer, it hurts too much to think of the past and it would be best to only look forward from here.

“Do you remember where I was at that time? I can’t quite remember,” you laugh softly, trying to make the situation appear unimportant, only curious. Regulus answers quietly, too quietly as he stares down at his plate, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, dear,”

“…you were down the hall from the library…”  

“I see,” you nod thoughtfully, mentally committing to that area’s investigation, “thank you, darling,” dinner goes on as usual but there’s a tension in the air you can’t quite shake despite the changing topics of conversation. Regulus was also much quieter. “What’s wrong, love?” you ask softly, setting your cutlery down and focusing all your attention on your downhearted youngest. 

“I’m sorry about leaving you there, I-I didn’t know you were hurting, Mother,” he apologises, not expecting you to reach over and lovingly comb your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s not your fault, little love,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “and I don’t blame you for what happened to me,” you angle your head down to smile warmly at him, trying to convey your assurance as much as possible, “besides, I’m all better now. I only have a few fainting spells here and there,” his smile is small as he nods and you both refocus your attention to dinner, the atmosphere gradually losing the earlier tension and becoming light again. Regulus remembers how cold and claustrophobic the house felt at that time, he didn’t feel comfortable thinking back to it; back then, it was a place that was hard to breathe in. He only had Sirius protecting him… 

The house is much warmer now that he has you and Sirius. He much prefers the way things are currently. The past should stay in the past. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

Seated at your desk, you suppress the groans of discomfort that were being conducted through the walls from Orion’s private office — you can’t believe he still hasn’t asked Kreacher for a healing potion. But you suppose it’s fitting that his ego is making him suffer more at this point. You savour the sounds of his pain for only a few moments more before calling for Kreacher yourself. 

“Mistress has called for Kreacher?” the hunched house elf immediately asks after appearing before you with a pop. He remains ever-aged and wrinkled but his unruffled demeanour and, somewhat, contented expression certainly make him appear brighter. 

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a sceptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing, “it seems my fainting spells are getting to me and tampering with my memories,” At this, Kreacher’s expression morphs into worry and he begins to clutch tightly at his ragged clothes while falling into rambles upon rambles of heightening anxiety for your health. It was a rather endearing sight, knowing someone cares so deeply for your well-being, but you think the poor elf might just self-induce a heart attack if you let him continue like this, “It’s okay though Kreacher, I’m okay. Please just tell me about that secret room?”

Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

“Parlour?”

“The private parlour, Mistress, yes,” Kreacher nods, subconsciously flattening the wrinkles of his clothes with his hands, standing a little straighter and subtly puffing out his chest, “the powerful, esteemed ladies like to talk in priiiivateeee,” he drags out the word in a low tone, which spikes your interest and reaffirms your speculation on the room being used for dark purposes. 

“Is the doorway down the hall from the library, Kreacher?” he nods weakly, his curious eyes taking in your theorising face. “And you say that only the ladies of house Black have access to it?” Kreacher nods once more and you fear that, perhaps the house may be denying you access as you’re not a true lady of house Black. This is going to be a problem…

“The parlour can only open to the Mistress,” Kreacher affirms but you remain hopeless at it ever opening for you, “and only at a special time, yes — only then,”

“A special time?” you question, dismissing your earlier hopelessness when Kreacher shakes his head, trying to search for the right words. 

“The clock face must look a certain way,” so a specific time…

“What time does it open, Kreacher?” 

Not knowing the answer, Kreacher seeks refuge behind the sofa of your office’s seating area, “Only Mistresses of Black know, Masters of Black do not! Strangers do not! Kreacher does not! Only Mistresses!” not wanting him to work himself up, you quickly placate his high emotions. 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” the house elf freezes in place and looks at you hesitantly but with rounded, hopeful eyes. Though, he almost seems to frown deeper at the sight of your warm smile, “You were very helpful, thank you,” he nods slowly, looking at his feet and silently accepting your gratitude. “You may rest for the evening now. Goodnight Kreacher,” Kreacher nods meekly and hesitates for a moment before disappearing with the same popping sound he had appeared in.

With a sigh of defeat, you collapse into your chair and ruminate over the frustratingly incomplete answers Kreacher had given. In the place of answers grew more questions. It’s getting late already but you don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with all the questions to keep you awake. But then you find your eyes transfixed on the desk calendar Walburga had been maintaining before you arrived. You find it hard to look away from the monthly timetable and eventually begin to reach for it. 

Subconsciously, you flick back through the months, needing something to do in order to rest your overactive thoughts. Landing on August, you fondly trace August 1st with your finger. The day you had first arrived and given the blessings that were your two sons. Warm affection blooms in your chest at the thought of your darling boys and the privilege of being their mother. You almost miss the pearlescent ink marking the day ‘Ritual (P - 5 pm)’. The almost transparent words make you freeze up and all thoughts pertaining to the private room, return. They reach out to you from the page in their pearlescent, bold and shaking letters, screaming at you to pay them the utmost attention and to disregard the regular black-ink notations occupying other days. Shakily—you just realised it was your hand that was shaking the calendar—you flip back to July. Almost every day is marked with ‘P - 5 pm’.  

What was that disgusting bitch doing?!  

‘YOU WORTHLESS, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING MUGGLE!’ Walburga shrieks in her offence, triggering yet another skull-fracturing migraine, ‘YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO GO SEARCHING FOR THE PARLOUR! SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS NOT ALLOWED! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE YOU WERE ABLE TO SEE THE INK! NOBODY SEES THE INK BUT ME!’

‘Must be some special-ass ink…’ was the last thing you remember thinking before falling into darkness.  

12 Grimmauld Place | 13th September 1971 

The following day, you awake in your bed and groan at the ceiling’s offending sight. You dread to look at your nightstand, already knowing there’s no escape from the magenta healing potion you would need to take. A slight tilt of your head reveals the phial in your periphery and you resolve to avoid directly looking at the disgusting concoction in hopes of delaying your need to drink it. 

As you continue to lay in bed, the weight at your side becomes more and more obvious through the foggy haze obscuring the most conscious parts of your mind. When you finally look down to see the source, your face blooms into a warm smile and you have to keep yourself from cooing aloud. Cuddled up into your side was Regulus. He lay atop the blankets with another blanket to keep him warm. Kreacher must have done that for him after taking you to your room. In a whisper, you call out to the house elf whilst manoeuvring yourself to sit against the headboard. Under the glow of motherly affection, you allow your fingers to gently comb through Regulus’ soft curls. Kreacher was at your side almost instantly and didn’t waste a second to urge the phial of healing potion into your hands. 

Shaking your head, you smile at the loyal elf and lean down to whisper your thanks before regretfully taking the potion from his grasp, “Thank you for making sure Regulus was taken care of, Kreacher,” the house elf doesn’t meet your eyes and simply nods at his young master. 

“Young master Regulus told me he wasn’t to be sleepin’ in his room with the Mistress being ill. K-Kreacher worries too loud when the Mistress faints…” he shook his head, droopy ears flopping, as he emphasised Regulus’ decision to stay by your side after causing a ruckus. 

“He’s such a stubborn child…” you voice with much fondness, eyes glittering as you look at Regulus’ peacefully sleeping form, “What a lucky mother, I am,” 

“Mistress must drink her healing potion, now,” Kreacher urges in a slightly shaking voice. You hesitate, “for Kreacher? Please?” at that, you finally drink the potion you hate so much, muttering a vow to never drink something so disgusting again. It was odd to the house elf that you wouldn’t drink the potion for yourself but rather for his sake. He found that if he said those words and followed them with the magic word ‘please’, you would be willing to do even that much. The word ‘please’ wasn’t a spell to make someone do one’s bidding like the ‘Imperius Curse’ but Kreacher finds that the effects of ‘please’ are much more pleasant. He was taught this alongside the two young masters after your great fainting spell and change in demeanour. Kreacher learns a lot of new things from his Mistress every day and he finds that he enjoys it a lot. Unlike his Master Orion…

“Has my husband asked for his healing potion yet, Kreacher?” he shakes his head ‘no’, not really knowing what expression to make. On one end he detests seeing the suffering of his master as it means he’s being a bad house elf by not taking care of him well enough and that was ever house elf’s entire life’s purpose. On the other hand, Kreacher finds that he doesn’t care much for his Master’s suffering, at least, when compared to the Mistress and the two young masters, even Master Sirius. Kreacher finds it easier to be called upon by them rather than the patriarch. 

Smiling to yourself, you reiterate a very important point, “When my husband finally does ask, make sure he says ‘please’ before complying, Kreacher. Make him aware of this and that I specifically told you to do as such. My husband needs to learn some manners,” the playful wink you send Kreacher before chuckling to yourself, confirms the house elf’s suspicions but he resolves to do nothing about it. He simply follows the orders of his Mistress, that is how he stays a good house elf after all. “Kreacher, can you fetch my calendar, from my desk please?” like now, Kreacher was away and back with your desk calendar with two snaps of his fingers. He watches you with rounded eyes as you flip to July and show him the blank spaces. “What do you see?”

“It is the month of July, Mistress,” Kreacher answers with some hesitance. It was a simple answer to a simple question. 

“Nothing else?” you arch a brow, “No writing?”

“K-Kreacher’s eyes see nothing but blank days, Mistress,” Kreacher anticipates being hit for the first time in months when you reach out your hand and he shuts his eyes tightly in anticipation, shrinking into himself. But you don’t hit him. Instead, he feels a soft caress atop his head and his ears wiggle in delight. This was a nice feeling, “That’ll do, Kreacher. Thank you,” of course, his mistress wouldn’t hit him, he’s a good house elf! At your side, Regulus begins to stir and you quickly ask the house elf for a small favour, “Can you please make us some breakfast in bed, Kreacher? One for Regulus and one for me. Make it a yummy treat for my son, pancakes with cut up fruit and a glass of milk. I’ll have a Full English…” you pondered to yourself for a moment before asking that he make the portions big, “so we can share with each other,” Kreacher nods and vanishes to make the best breakfast he can, following your instructions for him to the letter and remembering the way you prepared breakfasts without magic. 

Regulus slowly wakes to the comforting, familiar feeling of you gently stroking his head and combing your fingers through his hair. Peeking up at you, he smiles in relief at your kind eyes and warm expression. Even though he fell asleep from worry, waking up to his beautiful, kind mother like this made it all worthwhile. With a relieved whisper of ‘mother…’, he launches himself into your embrace and hugs you close, arms locked around your neck. The way your arms locked around his body gave him a feeling of completeness he didn’t want to let go of.

“I was worried you wouldn’t ever wake up, Mother! You haven’t had this bad of a fainting spell since that first time!”

“Never,” you whisper comfortingly into his ear, “I would never leave you like that, I love you too much,” your words have Regulus beaming brightly. 

“I love you too, Mother! I was so worried last night. You didn’t come to tuck me in so I snuck out of bed to check on you but Kreacher told me you no longer slept with Father and redirected me to your new room…” he bit his lip, not wanting to recount the paralysing panic he felt at the sight of your motionless form in bed. He had never seen a person look so still and it frightened him that that person was you. 

“I’m sorry I worried you so much,” Regulus nuzzles his small face into your neck for comfort and his muffled voice can only be heard because he was so close to your ear. 

“It’s okay… you’re all better now, right? That’s what matters most,”

“You’re right,” smiling softly, thoroughly warmhearted by his sweet words, you press a kiss to the side of his head, “Thank you for taking care of me while I wasn’t feeling well,” again, he muffles his response into your neck, unwilling to break away from your embrace. 

“You’re welcome,”

“I have Kreacher preparing breakfast for us so we can stay in bed this morning,” at that, he lifts his face from your shoulder to smile brightly at you. 

“Really?”

“Really really,” you nuzzle his nose with your own, you’re going to savour the privileges of being a mother before either of your two boys become rebellious, loud and angsty teenagers, “We have as long as it takes for him to make breakfast to snuggle in bed,”

As you cuddle in bed together, Regulus softly asks to be told a good story, not only to pass the time but to distract him from his worrying thoughts. He doesn’t like the potential implications of you experiencing a similarly concerning fainting spell to the first one you had suffered that fateful night. He doesn’t want you to be sick all the time. He only has one mother and you’re perfect now, he doesn’t want you leaving when he just got you…

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Breakfast in bed is a treat and you were happy to share it with your darling youngest. He had such good manners, even when having breakfast in bed. As requested, Kreacher prepared pancakes and cut fruit for Regulus and a Full English for you. 

“Wow! Thank you Kraecher,” Regulus smiles at the house elf who shyly returns the kind expression, “The portions are really big too,”

“So we can have a bit of each other’s if we fancy,” you wink and Regulus giggles with a nod, immediately handing over a pancake from his plate.  

The two of you spent an hour eating breakfast in bed, talking about nonsense. It was a moment you would treasure forever, you would remember the way Regulus’ eyes light up from the fluffiness of the pancakes and the way his smile never left his lips from the happiness he was experiencing while lost in the moment. 

Once breakfast was over, the two of you walked to the kitchen and decided to tidy up, happy to extend your time spent together. You would wash up while Regulus would dry and you would help each other put the dishes and cutlery away. Kreacher almost has a heart attack at the sight of you but his concern only made you both giggle. 

“Mistress is doing Kreacher’s job! Not allowed! Not allowed!” the poor house elf chants, tugging at his ears, staring at the scene with disbelieving, watery eyes, “Youngest master is not allowed to!”

“Don’t be so dramatic Kreacher,” you flash him a kind smile as Regulus giggles beside you and looks over his shoulder to smile kindly at Kreacher as well, “we want to do this as a ‘thank you’,” Kreacher is visibly unable to comprehend your words — he still has a long way to go when it comes to things like this. 

“It’s to thank you for making such a yummy breakfast for us,” Regulus adds with a small nod of kind acknowledgement. For a moment, Kreacher appears to silently accept the gesture but just as you and Regulus share a smile, Kreacher rushes forward with the same flurry of panic. He doesn’t accept the gesture at all.

“No! No no no! Not allowed!” But Kreacher is unable to get past you or Regulus and goes to slam his head against the wall nearby only to be stopped by you. Patiently, you press his face into the folds of your skirt and that is where your poor house elf stays, muffling his soft whimpers and clinging onto your dress for comfort as you softly whisper for him to calm himself, assuring that he’s still a good elf and worthy of serving House Black. Regulus smiles appreciatively up at you and finishes off drying the plates so you can both put them away. 

“Will Father be joining us for dinner tonight? I’ve hardly seen him as of late, surely he’s feeling better now,” Regulus comments after Kreacher finally leaves, assured by the small task you had given him to dust the Library.  

“Oh…” you avoid his eyes to keep him from seeing the devious smirk tugging at the edges of your lips, “he’s still feeling a little under the weather, my darling,” Regulus observes you curiously, his interest piqued at the fact that you don’t meet his eyes and there’s a sneaky smile hidden behind your fingers. “His stomachache is persistent so he’s been sequestering himself in his room and his diet remains to only be soup and bread — something light but nutritious so he can sustain himself,” Kneeling before Regulus, you meet his curious eyes warmly, “please don’t worry, darling, your father is going to be okay…”

Regulus nods, accepting your explanation. “I hope father gets better soon,” Even though his father was horrible to him, Regulus is still so incredibly kind and his words make your heart swell with pride. 

Cooing at his angelic image, you bring him into your arms and kiss his forehead, “How can a child be so precious? You’re so very kind Regulus, your father doesn’t deserve it after what he’s done to you,” 

Pink in the cheeks, Regulus shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s okay…everyone deserves kindness, right Mother?” his words were from one of the last lessons you had given the brothers before Sirius had to leave for his first year and now, although Orion is the least deserving person, you’re still so proud of your baby for remembering your wisdom. 

Regulus kept you company in your office as you waited for the grandfather clock to strike five in the afternoon. His lesson with Peony had already finished and he had just gotten done with consolidating his learning in the library. You had some letters to reply to as the Matriarch of the noble and most ancient house of Black while Regulus was eagerly writing his letter for Sirius. He was excited to use the colour-changing ink you had bought them during Sirius’ first-year shopping spree.

Replying to so many letters was getting tiring and your wrist was beginning to ache. You shouldn’t have procrastinated on responding. Hopefully, there was a spell you could do on the quill to make this easier, perhaps make it write as you spoke, the same way Rita Skeeter did. 

The frequency of your sighs increased through the labour of writing but all you needed to do was look up and see the diligence of your youngest son writing his letter to feel re-energised again. Smiling to yourself, you savour his innocent image a moment longer before opening the next letter in the pile. The penmanship was rather rough and scratchy, leaning towards print rather than cursive, it was a breath of fresh air from the swirling, loopy handwriting of all the other letters you’ve had to read and reply to. 

Opening the letter, you begin to read dismissively but your eagerness spikes when your wandering eyes glimpse the signed name at the bottom: Alphard Black. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Regulus reads his letter again and nods in satisfaction. This was his third draft of it but he felt his efforts to be worthwhile. Letters were a special occasion and something that made a person feel immediately special when they read a letter that’s addressed specifically to them so he wanted to put in a good effort for Sirius. He just hopes it reaches him in good time. 

“Mother,” Regulus stands with his letter in hand, ready for postage, “my letter is finished, may I deliver it to Sirius now, please?”

You smile warmly and nod, slipping Alphard’s letter into the main drawer of your desk. With a small wave of your hand, you gesture him over to you, “Would you like to give it a wax seal?”

Regulus’ eyes sparkled with excitement, “I’m allowed?”

“Of course, little love, come here,” you pull him into your lap and gesture to the apparatus around you to create a wax seal. “First, pick out the coloured wax you want for your seal,” Regulus picks metallic silver wax, a perfect choice for the black envelope he was sending it in, a signature of the Black Family. “Now you put it in this little spoon and melt it over the candle,” with an eager nod, Regulus holds the spoon over the candlelight and the two of you wait for it to melt together. 

“I think it’s melted now, Mother,” 

“Let me see…” he shows you, swirling around the liquid wax to demonstrate its fluidity and grins at your approving nod, “good good. Get the seal ready,” he diligently takes the Black Family seal in his other hand, “now, when you stamp the wax, don’t wiggle it around or else the design will get muddled,” Regulus gives an affirming nod and waits for your instruction to pour the wax before stamping it. He doesn’t wiggle it as you’ve advised. After a few moments, you whisper that it was finally okay for him to take away the stamp and he gasps in delight at the beautiful seal that was left behind. 

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Would you like to post it or ask Kreacher to post it for you?” 

“I’d like to post it please,” his request pulls you away from your desk, just in time as it was nearing 5 pm already. You patiently lead him to the family owl and watch with a smile as he hands over his letter and waves off the owl with a cheer. “Sirius is going to love the letter, darling,”

“I hope he sends one back soon!”

“I don’t doubt that he will,”

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You’ve stationed yourself down the hall from the library. The same location where you had first fainted after falling into the world according the Regulus who was practising the piano in the reception room downstairs. Hearing his piano melodies travelling through the walls and floating up the stairs made you awe at how talented he is. The repeated melodies comforted your racing heart and eased the ache in your head as you waited in anticipation for the afternoon to finally reach five o’clock. There was nothing to go off of when you set about searching for this magically disappearing room. Kreacher described it as a private parlour where only the mistresses and ladies of the Black family could congregate to discuss confidential particulars. 

Only for the women…

It was a comforting thought, somewhat, that there was a sisterhood amongst the family. It makes you wonder how long the tradition has been taking place. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely for ill-intentioned meetings for dark magic. The optimistic part of you imagines the women of the Black family aching for a private room away from the men in their lives just to share a cup of tea and relax. Maybe meetings were held in contented silence, relishing in the calm and savouring the safety of the cliquish room. 

tick…tock…tick…tock…CLANG!

The grandfather clock gives a discordant chime down the hall at the lower floor and your heart spikes once again. You spin on your heel and face the dark, elegantly embellished wallpaper of the house. For a moment your brows furrow in confusion and disappointment when nothing happens, even when the grandfather clock finishes its chime and begins ticking normally again. 

Tick…tock…tick…tock…

You’re about to turn away in disappointment when a black door begins to appear on the wall before you. It rises from the floor as if answering a call to reveal itself by the grandfather clock’s afternoon chimes. The black wood it’s composed of shines like a black pearl as its glass components are decorated with iron embellishments that swirl over it in a symmetrical pattern. They keep the interior entirely secret. Once fully revealed, you awe at the grand entrance; it’s arched at the top and rather than a singular door, its double doors that open at the centre, pulled apart by swirling, gold doorknobs that appear recently polished. Only the best for the ladies and mistresses of the Black family, the noble and most ancient house. 

You don’t have the time to tame your thundering heart and grab at the gold handles before the door can disappear again. At the simple touch of your hand, a faint click meets your ears. It’s very reminiscent of a key turning in a lock and allows you to pull the double doors apart. As it was when you first arrived in this world, the room is pitch black and you have to squint in the darkness, blinking as your eyes adjust to the shadow-veiled environment. Thankfully, the light from the hallway manages to seem through from behind you as your silhouette stretches across the room’s expanse. You’re about to take a step forward when a pungent smell meets your nose and you sharply draw back with a hand over your mouth and nose. Eyes wide and finally adjusted to the darkness, you take in the various elements of the room as your panic gradually rises inside you, your mind racing.  

There appears to be a seating area for the prim conversations you had once imagined but the furniture was pushed away from its place at the centre of the room and the accompanying coffee table appears to have been thrown about, kept on its side on the far side of the room. In the corner, there’s a lady Chippendale English-style writing desk with its chair thrown down. Its desk space is cluttered, piled high with books with one at the centre, its aged pages ripped out and flung across the room. Brass artisan wall lights fitted with candles remain unlit on either side of a smashed mirror, victim to a fallen, heavy book below it, surrounded by its shattered remains. Black-out curtains that drape to the floor block out a window on the far end of the room, shielding the world from the parlour’s internal happenings. Two glass jars occupy the centre of the room, identically filled with unknown elements that cast the same dark silhouette within it. They’re stained with a mysterious liquid you were too scared to investigate further but the sight wasn’t as frightening as the avian-esque carcass rotting into the carpet at the centre of the room. The sight makes you choke and cough, realising the source of the sickening scent in the musty air. There’s an array of feathers that surround the skeletal remains and not too far from it is a knocked-over bird cage. It looks generic and indistinguishable from the one Sirius’ owl came it. 

Your racing mind flashes back to the interaction you shared with the shopkeeper at the Owlery for Sirius’ first-year Hogwarts shopping.   

“What happened to the last owl you purchased?” the shopkeeper asks suddenly, finally finished with preparing all the items and eying you warily. You feel Sirius and Regulus’ eyes on you from his question as well and hurry to make an excuse. This situation has grown very uncomfortable.

“Last owl?”

“Yes, the screech owl, from last week,”

Was this… was this the fate of that same owl?…

Unable to tolerate looking into the room further, you slam the double doors shut and collapse backwards into the railing beside the stairs. Your shaky hands grip the rails and try your best to keep your stomach still — you’re not going to be throwing up on the hallway carpet. 

“YOU FILTHY, CHEATING MUDBOOLD!!!” Walburga screeches loud enough for you to feel the ache at the forefront of your brain and the tender spots of your ears. Not this bitch again… “HOW DID YOU GET THE PARLOUR DOORS TO REVEAL ITSELF AND OPEN?! IT ONLY OPENS TO ME!”

“Not anymore…” you snipe weakly, as an overwhelming migraine floods through your head. She must be really angry at you. “K-Kreacher,” you call weakly but are too occupied with clutching your head, trying to suppress the pain, to hear the faint pop of your loyal hope elf appearing at your side. He’s panicked and doesn’t know what to do with himself as he calls to you frantically. Quickly, he realises you’re unable to even hear him, spiking his panic all over again.

“YOU ARE NOT A TRUE MISTRESS OF THE BLACK FAMILY! YOU ARE NOT A BLACK FAMILY LADY! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING THAT BLASTED RITUAL OR THOSE CONFOUNDED BOOKS!”

There’s a knocking at your temples that gets harder and harder to ignore atop Walburga’s grating, pic-squealing caterwauls. It rises in volume above your hammering heartbeat and feels like an intruder trying to smash their way into your door. It’s invasive and makes you cry aloud from the tormenting pain — it’s almost as harrowing as your first arrival here. Memories of your past life flash before your eyes like an old-fashioned image projector, torturing you with snapshots of your most heart-aching moments: your ovarian cancer diagnosis, the surgery, your depressive state, and your husband leaving. But then it captures you beating the odds and rising from the ashes, you made something from the remains of your old life’s trajectory, successfully creating an economic empire and practising philanthropy for many other women who had to face the same devastating diagnosis as you. It all ends with an image of a heavy truck barrelling straight towards you and then you’re consumed by darkness.

navi. | series masterlist | next. 08 : ... →

A/N: back to the below 10k chapters haha! i'm thinking of going back to proofread and edit this chapter again in the future since i don't feel like I've properly done it this time because of some personal things going on. nevertheless, i hope you darlings enjoyed this chapter! thank you always for all the love and support, this series has been able to grow so much thanks to you darlings x

[mcd-brainrot-hours]

The Divine Warriors p.1

howdy here’s a post about the divine warriors in my rewrite. this is more of the religious aspect of them. part 2 will be more about them personally. feel free to ask questions!

Irene is the matron of healing, fertility, love, faith, rebirth, and life.

Shad is a symbol of death, decay, plague, destruction, and suffering.

Esmund is the deity of strength, protection, weath, stone, commerce, and smithing.

Kul’zak is the deity of stars, travels, land, weather, music, luck, and storytelling (along with enki).

Menphia is the deity of women, justice, wrath, fury, freedom, choice, and meifwas.

Enki is the deity of knowledge, truth and deceit, storytelling (along with Kul’zak), outcasts, and medicine.

The divine are worshiped in different ways by different people.

-Irene is worshiped by religious folk (mainly in ru’an) and people in the medical field. Really, everyone worships Irene in some way. They typically say a prayer while kneeling, heads bowed with their hands cupped towards the sky (there’s a belief that the rain is the matron’s tears, no one knows why she weeps though). Sometimes, religious extremists will willingly mutilate themselves to be “perfect” in the eyes of the matron. People pray to irene for blessing in fertility, love, life, and whenever they are struggling. She is the most commonly prayed to.

-There are still some mortals who still worship Shad despite it being illegal. When they pray to him, they often do so while kneeling on hot coals. if they are caught worshiping him, they will be promptly executed for their act of treason.

-Esmund is worshiped by guards for strength and people of power during wartime for protection as a graduation ritual, graduates of the guard academy will pray to Esmund while holding a piece of jewelry that is sentimental to them (something that belonged to either a mother or a lover) and they get a symbolic tattoo (idk what yet).

-Enki is worshiped by scholars. They often leave things related to knowledge behind after they pray to Enki (college students joke about leaving blood offerings to enki so they can pass their exams). schools and certain libraries will have shrines dedicated to Enki.

-Kul’zak is worshiped by travellers. They often pray before they leave for their travels and leave offerings to Kul’zak at every stop of their journey. Kul’zak’s followers build him little shrines at certain stops. Those shrines act as guides for fellow wanderers.

-Menphia is mostly worshipped by women and is seen as a symbol of justice amongst them. There's an old legend that once Menphia killed her own father to protect her younger sisters. Many women look up to her as a symbol of strength. women who are caught in abusive relationships will pray to her for the strength to escape. Meifwa in Tu’la will pray to her for safety from the king.

Many churches dedicated to the matron will have stained glass depictions of each of the divine warriors. They are each shown with a halo of light, portraying them as saints. In churches that date back to the divines’ time, there used to be one of Shad. Those were all destroyed, though.

There used to be churches dedicated to Shad but those were all destroyed. Rumor has it there is still one remaining. Nobody has found it.

There are smaller churches through out the specific region each divine warrior is from (except Kul’zak, nobody knows where they came from).

Tu’la has churches dedicated to Menphia and Gal’ruk has one dedicated to Enki (it’s more of a library than a church).

Churches that are dedicated to Irene will also teach about the other divine (mostly Esmund- especially in O’khasis).

The most commonly accepted and preached story of the divine warriors is that Shad was the villian and the rest were the heroes (more on that later >:3 ).

Everybody paints the divine warriors (especially Irene) in such a holy light where they do no wrong (minus Shad).

Little does the world know, the Church went on a little spree and burnt every single book (that they could find) that contained information that opposed what they believed about Irene. But they didn’t find all of them.

Maybe Irene isn’t as holy and pure as they thought.

Maybe the divine aren’t exactly as they seem.

:)

[just-existing-as-you-do-blog]

Just a little dnd recap for the vibes. I haven't DMed in a while and I'm excited.

So our charecters are

Half elf sorcerer

Dwaven rogue

Knome warlock

I started them out all in different universes with their own NPCs and plot hooks. And them I had them all be visited by a man in a tophat and tailcoats called the magician. Then they traveled to a place I call The Living Manor in my notes it's a way to big manor with other buildings inside and there is alot to explore there but they were very excited for their magical keys and did alot of universe hopping and testing the rules.

So our warlock is insane but has a magical feild where someone would have to beat a DC 18 wisdom check to notice. He does not know what deal he made, but he ran into his nephew in the manor who started telling him that his sister is very sick and probably won't make it. Which our warlock barely processes.

Our rogue steals two definitely cursed gems from the manor and our sorcerer takes lots of books (they are rebuilding a library she burnt down). They all follow our warlocks nephew through a door and end up back in his universe.

They meet an important family (the dragontamers, I adore them.) The rogue pawns off a cursed gem. Warlock runs into his husband, momentarily has his sanity back tries to tell his husband that something is very wrong with him. But his husband failed the roll. The warlock remembers his sister and goes to see her and she succeeds her roll the second time and they talk it out in a rushed panic for a while.

Meanwhile our sorcerer steals from a library and our rogue learns all the gossip in town while trying to contact her friend and putting together that they are in another dimension.

They barter for a comprehend languages spell and sleep in the home of the matriarch of the dragontamer family. Then they journey to the rogues dimension to discover that her friend has been tortured in a strange way, he tries to tell them all he can but his memory has been modified, something with the nobility and a cult and a ruby.

They heal him up, he reveals that he has been to the manor. They talk to the magician again who heals the sorcerer after she hurts herself trying to read his thoughts. He mentions that he doesn't controll the nobility nor does he own the manor.

They go back to the rogues dimension, she enters the home of the nobility she knows stole the ruby, finds his wife laying in bed, stabs her, gets blasted to hell. Steals a painting but not the ruby, and escapes. The others go to a library and steal more books. Then the rogue requests the magician heal her in exchange for a favor, he does so and requests she steal back a cursed book from the bartender of the Litches Brew. She seduces the bartender and steals the book, the bartender knows she is stealing it but let's her off just this once.

They return to the rogues world and talk to her friend to discover that the nobility have been buying up organs and corpses of powerful wizards. He says he has heard about some cult stuff. They investigate the churches of Pelor and the Matron of Ravens who both feel uneasy about the people not from their dimension and make it clear. They summon the magician to see if he can walk inside the Temples and he cannot.

Then they go to the library, talk to the librarian, learn about a broken into crypt. The crypt is supposed to be magically sealed. The door is ajar, they venture down to find all of the traps have been sprung and the corpse of the wizard is gone.

Session ends!

[eirist]

All Wrapped Up

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T (Just a lit-tle suggestive)

Note: This was supposed to be an entry for the ZoNa Holiday Events at Tumblr and a holiday fic (would have checked Prompt #1 – Christmas Party and #8 – Red Lipstick) but it didn’t make it. Still, I want to get this out there even though it’s 2024 already and January’s about to end.

Also this is a companion fic to The Cat Burglar and As It Was one-shots. Set in the same AU. Because I adore that AU. First ZoNa fic for 2024 so enjoy the craziness!

Summary: His answer was a simple yes. And gave her that smile that never fails to steal her breath away.

Sparkling.

Everything and everywhere is freaking sparkling.

From the snowflakes and ornaments hanging from above, the wiry white branches lining the hallway, the garlands wound around the stairs, the Christmas wreaths peppering the walls, the table centerpieces and candles… and of course, the huge Christmas tree in the middle of the room where the party is held.

Everything she set her eyes on is absolutely glittering…

…and white. Did she mention white? Freaking pristine white.

It was like the place was snowed in overnight. And that snow settled in a kind of aesthetic way that it made the place look enchanting just like inside a fantasy winter palace.

“So…” a voice suddenly spoke up beside her, pulling Nami out of her entrancement. “Is this what it feels like to be inside a snow globe?” Usopp remarked as he observed the scene before him with a grimace, handing Nami a tall glass of—yes, no surprises with that— sparkling wine.

“Thanks,” Nami smiled as she took it from him. “You know, I actually thought I died and gone to heaven when I walked in,” she muttered as her eyes followed a heavily-jewelled matron who strode past them. “Everything is just fucking white and sparkling.”

A snort of laughter escaped Usopp. “You? In heaven?”

She narrowed her eyes at him knowing where his comment is heading.

“I highly doubt that that’s where you’ll go,” Usopp teased. “You’re too evil.”

“Shut up.” Nami smacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t you have to play nice or you won’t get any gifts from the fat, red man?”

“His name is Santa Claus! Don’t be ignorant!” Usopp countered, wincing as he rubbed his shoulder. “And compared to you, I am absolutely nice! I’ll definitely get a gift from him.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. It amazes her that even as an adult Usopp still believes in fairy tales and some guy who—for the life of her, she doesn’t really understand how—slides inside chimneys while everyone else is sleeping to leave gifts under the Christmas trees for nice children.

He really should stop hanging around their genius yet childish doctor.

“Speaking of gifts,” she decided to change the subject, sending a bright smile to his direction. “Where’s mine?” She held out her hand as Usopp frowned at her crassness.

“I left it in Chopper’s office,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not gonna mingle around tonight with it in my pocket you know.”

Nami squealed in delight and Usopp cringed when he realized his tongue slipped and gave her an idea on what his present is.

It was no secret that the orange-haired woman absolutely loves gifts. She made that fact pretty clear a lot of times.

Especially if said gifts were as sparkly and shiny as the lights decorating the entire manor right now.

Usopp was watching her with a dour expression on his face.

She patted his shoulder in an appeasing manner. “Oh don’t worry. I also got you a gift.” She winked at him as his face lit up with excitement.

“Really?!” This time it was his turn to squeal in delight.

Nami looked smug as she took a sip of her drink. “I’m fair after all. Plus in the spirit of Christmas, I decided to be more generous this year.”

“Wooow!” Usopp was looking at her disbelievingly. “I guess miracles do happen! I honestly thought you’d just cut-off a small percentage of my so-called debt to you just like you did last year.”

“Don’t make me change my mind Usopp. I can still do that.”

“Oh come on! Don’t be stingy! Everyone knows you got a big, fat bonus from that stealing stint last time!”

Nami pointed a finger at him. “Hey! You also got the same big, fat bonus! We’re in that stint together!”

Two months ago the two of them (along with Robin, Franky and Brook), pulled off a rather daring heist in an underground auction hosted by the one and only Buggy the Clown—the weird owner and head of Buggy’s Delivery; an organization that prides itself in acquiring hard to find artifacts and treasures of the old from different parts of the world to sell it to the highest bidder in a hush-hush, private event.

Robin was able to secure an invitation to the clown’s auction, following a tip that Buggy recently obtained some priceless items which belonged to Gol D. Roger himself.

They knew they needed to get their hands on those treasures as soon as possible.

And get their hands on it they did.

Nami can still recall that feeling of elation as they drove away from Buggy’s circus-inspired villa with all the priceless auction items in tow—much to the consternation and shock of Buggy himself. He wasn’t able to chase them as they had a good head start before he and his minions realized what had happened.

Thus they all got a damn big bonus for a job well-done. Not everyone can pull off a feat like that. But with a brilliant team like theirs… it was a walk in the park.

It was really a damn great decision to join them. Not only was she living lavishly now, but she was also enjoying her stealing assignments so much more than before.

A few years ago, Nami had stolen a relic in the Mugiwara estate from right under Usopp’s nose. Back then, she was working alone and Usopp was in charge of the whole estate’s security.

He and his team was no match for her. Nami was able to breach their safeguards and easily sneak into the estate and get her hands on the priceless item. It was almost like stealing candies from babies, she can’t even call it a challenge.

Then Straw Hat Luffy—the head of the Mugiwara Family—sent Roronoa Zoro, one of his top men, to track her down.

Nami honestly thought that that was the end for her when she saw him sitting on one of the booths of her then empty bar, silently and patiently biding his time.

But Zoro’s orders that night, was just find her…

…and apparently take her back with him to the estate.

Thank her lucky stars he wasn’t there to maim her. She definitely knows she’s no match for him. Still, Nami did not make it easy for Zoro to do his job. She made him chase after her for a good half an hour all around the town until he finally lost his patience and showed her first-hand just why he was Mugiwara no Luffy’s right-hand man.

To say he hauled her back with him like he was just carrying a sack of potatoes was an understatement.

Her addition to Luffy’s elite circle was unexpected—as unexpected as his invitation to her to join his group. It wasn’t a calculated decision on his part (like he’s actually capable of that). Luffy just felt that it was right to invite her. Plus her skills are really awesome (he said it with eyes lighting up in excitement while laughing at Usopp’s expense) and he was really impressed with how she was able to sneak into the estate and steal something.

It may have been an arbitrary whim on Luffy’s part, but it was Nico Robin who pointed out to everyone that it would benefit them so much more if Nami is with them instead of an adversary that they had to deal with every now and then.

“Her thieving skills are unmatched. Her moniker, true to its words. Also she is not just a cat burglar,” Robin had explained with a rather fascinated smile on her face. “Nami is also an exceptional cartographer and an excellent navigator. Very useful when it comes to treasure hunting, don’t you all think?” She posed the question to everyone present, her blue eyes almost sparkling with mirth. “She’ll make a fine addition to our group.”

Nami was stunned at tall and elegant woman’s knowledge about her and her skills. She later found out that Robin is an archaeologist and a treasure trove of information. She actually has an archive of who’s who in the criminal world—be it a big or small name. And Nami’s name was already included in it. Robin also makes it her business to know every person and organization who is interested in anything and everything related to Gol D. Roger and his treasures.

Zoro and Usopp are the only ones who were adamantly opposed to her joining. The former because he doesn’t trust her and claims that she would be nothing but trouble. The latter because his pride took a battering when she had stolen the priceless relic he was ordered to guard with his life.

But they had to relent when Luffy put his foot down.

And Nami had no choice but to concede too, because she knows she would not fare well as their enemy… especially if they sent out Roronoa Zoro after her. 

Her thoughts suddenly shifted to the grouchy, green-haired man and her eyes automatically roamed the expanse of the party and the guests. She hadn’t seen him ever since she arrived.

He’s probably lost again. She thought wryly. Or going around in circles on the estate grounds.

Zoro might be exceptional when it comes to fighting, but definitely hopeless when it comes to directions. He would get lost in a straight line and will confuse north and south and left and right. It was completely frustrating.

Nami felt Usopp nudged her with his shoulder to get her attention. She gave him a glance and saw that he was pointing at one of the guests who were clad with so much sparkling jewelries she almost put the Christmas tree lights to shame.

Usopp was wiggling his eyebrows at her, issuing a silent dare to Nami that she should be able to nick some of those by the end of the night.

She smirked haughtily, raising her glass slightly to take his challenge.

It had been easy to win Usopp over when she finally accepted Luffy’s offer. They had a lot in common and Nami realized they almost, always have the same wave length. It didn’t take long for them to get close, all previous transgression forgotten.

Most of the time, it was the two of them who works out the security and possible breaches of the estate along with Franky—if Nami wasn’t on a stealing stint or nose-buried into antique maps and charting.   

As much as Usopp had been an easy win. Zoro was the complete opposite.

He was harder to get close to. Harder to thaw. He was like a thick block of ice. Not to mention he has an inherent distrust to almost all the people he meets. That combination was enough to make him formidable.

He was quiet and calm; silently listening and observing and in most cases, he’s just… asleep.

Nami was astounded on how easily he could just nod off while they were having a meeting or going over the plans for a heist or an attack or even when they’re just randomly lounging about the manor. He just sits there, with arms crossed over that delectable chest of his then falls asleep, snoring like there was no tomorrow.

But what really surprised her was that even if he zoned out easily or looks like he’s not even paying attention… he was ever-alert and his reflexes are out of this world.

Once, she stealthily tried sneak up on him to pull at his ear for dozing off while she was in the middle of giving him the rundown of the plan for their current mission. He had been grating on her nerves ever since they arrive at the island of Dressrosa—no, scratch that—from the moment they started traveling to be exact, and a retaliation was definitely overdue.

The next thing she knew, he had her pinned down on the carpeted floor of the hotel room. She was looking up at him with wide eyes while he stared down at her with one eyebrow arrogantly cocked.

He drawled something about… she didn’t quite catch it because at that moment, the wind was knocked out of her and her heart was thumping madly against her chest, its thudding sound echoing loudly in her ears.

And all her brain could register is how good Zoro feels above her.

From that moment on, Nami wanted more of him.

They stared at each other for a good few seconds as Nami swallowed the lump that somehow formed at her throat as his steely grey eye regarded her intensely. 

Though what happened next was far from charming. Bastard didn’t even bother helping her stand up. Zoro just pushed himself up and away from her with a scoff and casually walked towards the door to exit the room as Nami scrambled to get back on her feet. Out of frustration, she threw her red stiletto heel at his head.

Looking back, she honestly thinks that that was what chipped the ice. Because when Zoro swiveled around after her shoe hit his head and marched back towards her direction, a vein was visibly popping in his forehead and he was looking mad as hell. It was the first time she had seen that expression on him.

She should’ve been afraid at that moment. But in a mixture of infuriation and embarrassment (from being pinned down the floor or from her improper thoughts about the green-haired man or both)—Nami folded her arms across her chest and met his flaring temper head on.

Their shouting match in that room was one for the books. Not to mention, they almost blew their supposed mission that day because they can’t stop arguing.

That was the start of the never-ending quarrels and quips between the two of them that drove everyone around them crazy. It was an unspoken rule to everyone in the estate that when Zoro and Nami start firing words at each other, it’s better to high-tail it out of there than get caught in the crossfire. 

It was around that time that Nami realized that Zoro wasn’t really all cold and aloof like she first thought. Most of the time he appeared like he doesn’t give a damn because he was just too freaking lazy to care.

His usually reserved countenance was most likely because he was the kind of person to assess the situation first before reacting. He prefers to see the whole picture before efficiently dealing with whatever it is that comes one by one. He kept a cool head in most circumstances yet can still easily lose his temper especially when she one ups him (or if Sanji-kun was deliberately pissing him off).

It had become a bad habit of Nami to rile him up as much as she can. Because in a weird and twisted way, she loves how expressive his face can be when he is fighting with her.

The longer Nami stayed at Luffy’s group, the more she came to know Zoro deeper. 

Their enemies feared him. Everyone in their group and their members have high respect for him. He was actually one of the very few people that can rein their boss in because Luffy actually listens to him. 

As much as he was known to be ruthless and emotionless by the other mob families, he is quite the opposite when it comes to his friends and other selected associates.

She saw how he was with Luffy, Usopp and Chopper. Sometimes when he deals with them, his lone grey eye would go soft and there was this air of fondness and this certain amused smile on his face that she never thought he was capable of doing.

It stole her breath away. And made her see him in another light.

She’d do anything to be at the receiving end of that smile.  

“A pricey jewelry for your thoughts?” Usopp’s playful tone suddenly permeated her thoughts.

“Huh?” Nami snapped back to reality at the sound of her long-nosed friend’s voice.

Usopp peered at her face. “Are you alright? You just like zoned out.” His gaze traced the path where Nami was blankly looking. “Find something interesting out there?”

Nami shook her head. “Nah, just thinking.”

“You better be thinking on how you’ll steal some of those sparkly jewelries from that woman and that woman,” Usopp sniggered, tilting his head toward the direction of the bejewelled women he was pertaining too.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you underestimating me?”

“Of course not!” Usopp said as he downed the last of his drink. “Actually… hmm… there is a betting pool.” He said muttered while pretending to scratch his chin.

“What do you mean there is a betting pool?”

Usopp took a step back from her realizing his mistake. He shouldn’t have said that.

Before he can take another step back, Nami suddenly grabbed his tie to the point of choking him.

“What’s the bet?” Nami growled. She was quick to grasp the meaning of what he was saying. She was quite familiar that the some of the lower ranked members usually indulges themselves with betting pools for their own entertainment. It was an easy way to win money after all. Sometimes even higher officials like her, Usopp, Franky or Brook would join.

But she wasn’t aware that there is an ongoing bet tonight.

Nami shook the curly-haired lad to urge him to give an answer.

“Come on Usopp don’t make this hard. What’s the bet?”

“Uuuhmm…. how much you’ll be able to steal tonight?”

Nami scowled and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me more!”

“Eeep! That’s just it! I shouldn’t have told you! It’s not even my idea—” He struggled to explain and get out of her grasp at the same time. “I mean we can split!”

“Split?” Nami’s face darkened at that.

“Yeah!” Usopp nodded vigorously. “The pot is high!”

“How high?!”

“Ara… here you both are.”

Nami and Usopp whipped their heads toward the direction of the voice. Robin was approaching them looking all elegant in a shimmery white gown. Her long black hair was arranged in a sophisticated coiffure behind her head and she was holding a wine glass half-filled with one of the vintage reds from the manor’s cellar that she adores.

“Robin!” Nami exclaimed, completely forgetting about Usopp and releasing him from her clutches. She bounded happily towards the tall woman and enveloped her in a hug. “You’re back!”

“Ro-bin!” Usopp also greeted as he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Good to see you here! Thought you wouldn’t make it tonight?”

Robin, Franky and Brook had an important errand in the island of Baldimore. They went there to finalize a deal with one of their important associates before the year ends. As the place was quite far, everyone was thinking the trio wouldn’t make it back in for the party.

But apparently they did.

“Fufufu…” Robin laughed softly. “Well Franky and Brook were adamant to make it back. They don’t want to miss this party.” She motioned to the far corner of the room below where a tall, lanky figure with afro hair was already sitting behind the grand piano, playing Christmas tunes. “It’s a must-attend event after all.”

“I thought the New Year party is the must-attend event?” Usopp’s brows furrowed.

“Both are,” Robin said with a smile. “You know how the three brothers are always in a high festive mood whenever the holidays approach.”

Both Nami and Usopp nodded in understanding. With both of Luffy’s brothers, Ace and Sabo, spending the season at Mugiwara estate, the celebration had been all out. Spare no expense was Luffy’s exact words. Well actually the three brothers’ exact words. Because Ace and Luffy absolutely love throwing parties and Sabo… well it’s two against one, he had no choice but to agree.

And this was only the Christmas Party. Another party will be held on New Year’s Eve and Nami can’t wait to see how extravagant that one’s going to be.

Not to mention how many glittering stuff she’ll be able to filch from their filthy rich guests by the turn of the year.

“Well,” Usopp let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s gonna be a lot of work from here on.”

Robin nodded. “I’m surprised you are even out here. I thought you’d be personally manning the security tonight?”

Usopp looked crestfallen. “Aaw, gimme a break Robin. Our security team’s the best! With Franky and I’s newly updated surveillance equipment, not even a fly would get past the fence!”

The archaeologist gave Nami a side glance which Usopp caught.

“Hey! We personally asked Nami to do practice runs to check the system’s efficiency.” Usopp explained, folding his arms across his chest, looking smug and proud.

Nami laughed. “That they did.”

Robin chuckled. “So how was it?” She directed the question towards the orange-haired woman.

“Quite a challenge actually,” Nami admitted, pursing her lips. “But give me some time to figure out something and I’ll be able to sneak past all that, get inside here and steal anything from right under Usopp’s nose. Again.”

“Hey!” Usopp lightly slapped her arm. “I thought we’re friends now!”

Nami blinked innocently at him. “Yes we are. But you’ll never know how effective that surveillance system is until we give it a serious try right?”

“Well, she does have a point Usopp,” Robin agreed. “Maybe a surprise break-in one of these days?” She suggested, her tone light with amusement. “Franky will surely love that challenge.”

“I won’t...” Usopp mumbled.

Nami rolled her eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure that’ll give you and Franky the opportunity to request for new tech stuff again.”

Usopp straightened up at that. “Well that idea I definitely love!”

“So all set,” Nami flashed him a smile. “Once the holidays are over, expect something will happen. I’m already giving you a handicap.”

Usopp knitted his brows at her. “What handicap?”

“Once the holidays are over,” Nami repeated. A Cheshire cat-like grin appeared on her face. “Come on, that’s enough clue right? It’s a surprise break-in after all.”

Now Usopp was looking at her with eyes narrowed. Then he turned to Robin. “I’m blaming this on you.”

Robin just gave him a mysterious smile. “It’s settled then. I’m looking forward to the chaos it’ll bring.”

“Wait hold up!” Usopp raised his hand. “Are we not telling everyone about it?”

“Where’s the fun in that if you do?” Nami asked in a bored tone.

“But…”

“We’ll inform Luffy and the others.” Robin took a sip of her wine before continuing. “Only our team will know. It’ll be the perfect incident response exercise for the rest don’t you think?”

Usopp was looking at her with mouth agape. “Where do you even get these ideas?” He paused for a moment and huffed. “Oh right… Franky.”

The corners of Robin’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Anyway, Luffy did call for a meeting before the party starts right?” Robin signalled to one of the meandering servers who‘s balancing a tray of beverages on his hand. She took the empty glass from Nami’s hand and replaced it with a champagne flute. The she got another, this time

low ball glass with a really expensive whiskey inside and placed it in Nami’s free hand.

Nami stared quizzically at the drinks.

Robin thanked the server politely as he moved away from them. “I think it’s time to head up now,” she proposed.

Usopp glanced at his watch. “Well, we better…”

“Can you go find Zoro, Nami?” The raven-haired woman requested.

“Me?” Nami blinked up at her. Then, she looked back at the glasses she was holding. Oh fuck that. That was why Robin handed her the whiskey. She frowned at her and Robin just smiled.

“You’re the only one who can easily drag him to these meetings. And he really needs to be there.” Robin’s tone had shifted and Nami noted that there must be something important to discuss if Zoro’s presence at the meeting is imperative.

But still she groaned her complaint. “Do I really have too?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Why not Usopp?” “Why me?” Usopp retorted. “Zoro will just threaten me into leaving him alone and you know I will always cave in. You on the other hand, don’t. So carry on!” He made a shooing gesture with his hand.

Nami childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

“Last I saw him he was heading towards the west wing.” Robin offered. “He’s probably still there.”

“Believe me he’s not going anywhere once he’s in that area,” Nami muttered under her breath. The manor’s west wing had like a dozen rooms. It was Zoro’s favourite hiding place whenever there is a party and he wants some peace and quiet. Plus that area is off limits to party guests, there are even assigned guards at its entryway.

“Fine.” She conceded albeit sulkily, glancing at the drinks in her hand. “I’m gonna drag his ass upstairs.”

“Thank you.” Robin murmured as Nami sullenly shuffled away to do what she was asked. She was still within earshot when she heard Usopp say to Robin,  

“Hey about the betting pool…”

“I heard that!” Nami snapped as she spun around and marched back towards them. “And I demand to know what the hell that is! Don’t you dare think I forgot about that Usopp!”

Robin curiously raised an eyebrow at her before looking back at Usopp.

Said man stiffened under her gaze.

“Sorry!” Usopp sheepishly apologized to Robin with a nervous laugh. “It just slipped. I must’ve told her something.”

“What’s that all about?!” Nami inquired, her eyes shifting back and forth between the two of them. “You said something about it earlier Usopp!”

Robin just shrugged nonchalantly. “Everyone just makes bets.”

“Wait, everyone?” Nami repeated. “Like everyone bets and the winner takes all? How come I didn’t know of this! Are in this too Robin?”

Robin just replied with a chuckle. “Well you’d most likely try to rig the game so you can split the win.” She explained not confirming the answer to Nami’s question if she was involved in it too.

Nami’s eyes widened when she realized that she is. “I can’t believe you Robin! But yeah you’re right I’d definitely rig the game! Wait,” she diverted her attention to Usopp. “So that’s why you brought it up Usopp! You’re planning to strike a deal with me!” She announced in a sickeningly sweet, sugary voice.

“That’s cheating.” Robin commented coolly.

“Hey no! It just slipped out of my mouth alright?”

“You said something about splitting the win,” Nami pointed out.

Both women are looking at him unconvincingly. Usopp was known for having a flair for lying, which is surprisingly effective to most people outside their circle.

“Only because you were gripping my tie to the point of throttling me!” Usopp retorted. “Besides like you’d really agree to split fifty-fifty  Nami. It’s gonna be more like fifty-none!”

“That is definitely correct.” Robin agreed with a soft laugh

“Of course!” Nami stated haughtily. “Why would I split evenly? How long has this been going on anyway?”

“Uhh… around mid-year last year…” Usopp replied.

“What?! That long?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m pretty sure a lot of you are like a thousand belis richer now because of me?” Nami was looking pure evil right now. She tossed back the champagne she was still holding in one go and casually placed it on the tray of a passing server.  “I’m definitely taking percentages!”

“Oh hey I always lost!” Usopp held up his hands in mock surrender. “So no thank you. You will not be taking any money from me.”

“I haven’t really won,” Robin said with a smile. “Sorry. I’m up against those with uncanny luck in gambling.”

Nami blew at her bangs exasperatedly. “Okay then. Who do I have to extort?”

Robin and Usopp glanced at each other and without waiting for a beat they both answered.

“Zoro.”

“That idiot!” Nami growled. So he was on it too! She can’t believe it! And he was getting richer from making bets about her and he did not even have the gall to tell her? She was gripping the remaining glass on her hand a little too tightly.

“Whoa easy!” Usopp tried to pacify her, seeing that cracks were about to form on the glass. “But yeah if you are gonna extort someone, it’s him. He like won almost every betting pool. That’s roughly about a hundred thousand belis now.”

Robin just arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows when Usopp threw Zoro under the mercy of a rather livid Nami. Money matters are in no way handled peacefully in the orange-haired woman’s books. She was willing to do almost anything for it. Robin had seen her break another man’s arm who idiotically tried to scam her before… accidentally though… or so Nami claims.

She swirled her wine slightly, watching it with slight fascination. But even more fascinating is what’s going to happen in the next few hours now that Nami finally found out about the betting pool that Brook, Franky and Usopp had actually started.

“Oooh that lazy, idiot moss-head. I swear I’m going to get every single beli he won from that stupid betting pool! With interest!”

Robin lifted her head up just in time to see Nami stomping away from them in purposeful strides, her high heels making an ominous clacking sound against the marbled floor as she made her way towards where Zoro possibly was. Usopp was waving his hand at her and cheering her on.

“Well this is definitely going to be a fun night,” Robin remarked, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth, before taking another sip of her wine. ------------------------

Unlike the other areas which were decorated with glittering lights and Christmas adornments, the manor’s west wing was totally devoid of anything festive. Only the warm chandelier lights lining the high curving ceiling illuminated the whole area.

The noise of the party grew faint the further Nami went forward and when she turned around the corner, everything fell silent. No music or party guests chatter or clinking glasses.  Not even the clacking sound of her heels can be heard as she continued along the now carpeted floor.

She grimaced at the task Robin cheekily sent her to do. She could swear the raven-haired women had something up her sleeve for she had seen a particular twinkle in her eyes like she knew something that was supposed to be a secret.

Nami stopped walking and took a deep breath. She kind of… have an inkling to what it was that Robin knew.

But first things, first…

She tapped her foot while pondering. It irked her a bit that the soft fabric underneath her shoes prevented her from hearing the sound her foot should be making.

If everything was silent in this area then definitely the drifting moss head had gone into hiding in one of these many rooms.

Nami did a double take when she realized she was still holding the glass Robin handed her earlier. With a shrug of her shoulders, she lifted the glass to her lips to taste the deep gold liquid. It would be a waste not to drink it.

She needs it much more than Zoro do.

Mmmm… that hits the spot. Nami mused, nodding her approval as she felt the familiar sensation of the liquor warming up her throat and cheeks. Licking her lips, she studied the red lipstick mark she left on the glass.

She made a mental note to grab more of these once she gets back to the party.

After she finds Zoro.

And where could he be? She is not really looking forward to searching all the rooms of the floor for him.

Nami strained her ears to listen if there was any sound of thunderous snoring coming from one of the rooms. Hearing nothing, she strolled forward, glancing left and right.

“He better be in here somewhere,” she muttered to herself. Because there is no way in hell that she’d try to look for him outside the estate grounds on this cold night. They could do without him in the meeting. They have too. Someone can just fill him in with whatever he was going to miss.

“What are you doing skulking around here like a thief?”

Nami whirled around instantly at that. She wasn’t surprised to see the person she was looking for, casually leaning against the now open doorway of one of the rooms she already passed. Zoro’s arms were folded across his chest, one eyebrow raised in inquiry as he regarded at her.

She just snorted at his accusation and fought the urge to remind him that she was indeed a thief… in case his stupid, sexy ass had forgotten about it.

But she just let it slide, and took another sip from the glass in her hand before approaching him.

“I’m skulking around because I’m looking for you. Robin told me to bring you upstairs, your presence is required at the meeting oh snarky one.”

Zoro just scoffed and pushed himself away from the doorway. Without another word, he went back inside the totally dark room where he was obviously ‘stealthily lounging’.

Nami followed suit. So he had holed himself up in one of the many rooms that served as an office library. From the looks of this one, no Mugiwara was using it because the place was still tidy. No books, open and unopened, were occupying the antique writing desk. No papers strewn everywhere, crumpled or not. No pens or mugs and glasses half-filled with coffee, tea, water or any alcoholic beverage. There are no missing books in the shelves. No diagrams, floor plans or maps posted and hanging on the walls, windows or on any available flat surface.

There was none of the signature chaos that takes over the room once someone from their team uses it.

Well, unless of course Zoro had already staked his claim on this room and was using it as his personal sleeping quarter-slash-hideout.

“What are you doing in here alone in the dark Zoro?” Nami asked, using the exact same tone he used when he questioned her earlier as she closed the door. “Hiding from someone? Or from everyone?”

“Hmph.”

“Or are you waiting for someone?” Nami sing-songed as she approached him. Zoro was now leaning against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest again in an imposing manner. She deliberately brushed against him to reach out and switched the pricey vintage desk lamp beside him to illuminate the room.

His grey eye was following her movements. Watching. Waiting.

“I brought you a drink.” She handed him the liquor glass she still have on her hand.

She smirked when his face scrunched into a frown as he took it from her, scrutinizing the alcohol inside. “Sorry I had to take a taste.” She grinned cheekily at him.

Zoro stared at the glass. Her lipstick mark was still on the glass rim, the red smear a stark contrast against the gold liquid… same color as that on her devilishly smiling lips.

“I don’t mind,” he said lowly. He lifted the glass and deliberately drank right at the area where her lipstick mark was.

Nami did not fight the urge to bite her lower lip.

Well fuck. Isn’t that hot?

“You didn’t bring more?” Zoro asked with a smirk after he downed all the remaining whiskey in one go.

Nami laughed teasingly. “Oh you have to come out of your hiding place if you want more of that.”

The green-haired man chuckled, setting the glass on the desk.

“Guess I’ll settle with this for now.”

His hand instantly reached out and grabbed her by the nape, pushing her forward to him and capturing her lips with his.

Nami pressed herself against him straightaway. It was like her body had a mind of its own. It knew exactly what to do the moment Zoro’s lips settled on hers. Her arms automatically went around his neck, her head tilted to give him more access to her mouth, to deepen their kiss so he could taste more of her and she could taste more of him.

She melted in his arms when his tongue traced her lower lip slowly before teasingly giving it a soft bite. She practically purred in delight at his action. She likes it when he does that. It always sent shivers running down her spine and she can feel the heat from that playful nip spreading from her lips to every damn part of her. 

She clung to him when she felt his fingers trailing down the bare skin of her back, her body quivering deliciously against the sensation. Zoro’s hold on her nape tightened. She felt him inhaled sharply before almost devouring her in their kiss, his mouth dominating hers in a way that made Nami heady, hot and needy all at the same time.

Zoro in turn completely caged her to him by wrapping one arm around her waist. His hand on her nape slowly moved to tangle with her unbound tresses and Nami realized from the slight movements his body was making that he plans to…

She pulled away almost immediately. Zoro’s face scrunched into a displeased frown.

“What?” He asked gruffly, looking peeved that she stopped their kiss.

Nami gave him a sassy grin. “We need to go upstairs for the meeting,” she reminded him, tapping his cheek lightly. Because good Kami if she didn’t stop him now, they won’t make it up there.

“Tch!”

“We have responsibilities tonight. Plus you also ruined my lipstick,” she chastised him softly even as she gave him a quick peck before proceeding to rub off the red smear on his lips with her thumb. “Didn’t I tell you that the lips are off limits when I’m all dolled up like this?” 

Nami tilted her head down to gesture at her sparkling champagne gown.

She smiled softly when his frown deepened. Zoro absolutely looked like a spoiled brat who didn’t get his way.

Adorable.

Nami traced his mouth softly with her thumb before kissing him again.

“Do we have to be there?” Zoro grudgingly asked when she pulled away again and resumed wiping of traces of her lipstick on him. They weren’t exactly letting anyone know about them. Heck, even they themselves don’t know what the real score between them is. They haven’t really discussed it. But somehow they had both come to an agreement that whatever they’re doing are exclusively just between them and third parties are not welcome. 

Robin probably (with her intelligence) knows a thing or two about them based on the way she was looking at Nami when she asked her to search for the green-haired man. And to be honest, Nami suspects that they are being whispered behind closed doors. Most of those in the low ranks are gossips after all.

They better be not in those idiots betting pool! She swore there will be hell to pay.

In the dim light of the room, she did her best to erase the remnants of red on his lips as Zoro watched her.

“Sorry, but boss’s orders.”

He grunted and straightened up, giving Nami a nod that they better go. He had a ‘let’s get this over with’ expression on his face and she chuckled.

Nami tugged at his dinner jacket. “We need to stop by my office first.”

“Huh? Why?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You made a mess of my make-up. I have to retouch.”

“Tch!”

“Don’t tch me! I absolutely refuse to walk into the meeting room without fixing myself first!” Nami glowered at him. “They’d get ideas.”

“No they won’t.”

“Yes they will. Robin is not an idiot.”

“Fine,” Zoro relented begrudgingly. Nami does have a point. He’s not looking forward being subjected to the others teasing or insinuations. “Lead the way woman.”

Nami flashed him a victorious smile. “Plus I also have to leave this there.”

She raised her hand and waved a small box in front his face.

Zoro’s brows furrowed when he realized what she was holding. “Damn it Nami!” He growled.

“Aaaw Zoro don’t be mad,” Nami pinched his cheek. “Is this for me?”

“I’m actually tempted to say no.”

“Ah, so this is mine!”

He was looking at her with a deadpan expression on his face. Nami just pressed a kiss on his cheek before mouthing ‘thank you’.

“I can’t believe you filched that, you’re unbelievable.” Zoro groused.

“Yup. Right in while you were busy shoving your tongue inside my mouth.” Nami brazenly declared as she observed the small yet pretty gift box. A sparkling ribbon was tied around it and she shook it lightly, her eyes widening at the sound coming from inside it. 

Zoro looked smug. “Don’t think you one upped me witch. I just didn’t stop you.”

But Nami was too happy and too distracted with her gift to pay any attention to what he was saying.

“Oooh! Did you get me something shiny and sparkly?” She probed, her tone enthusiastic. “I sure don’t mind getting something to pair with them.” She tilted her head slightly to show him the earrings she was wearing. The diamonds set on them came from Jozu Island and very hard to acquire. When Zoro said he’ll get her those, she had treated it as a joke at first. But when he handed her a black velvet box containing the said stones in their raw beauty, she realized he was dead serious in with his word.

Nami had some of them set into different jewelries. And once they were done, she wore them to show Zoro just how absolutely stunning they looked, especially against her naked skin. 

He just snorted at her. “Why don’t you open it?”

She excitedly tugged at the box’s ribbon, letting it fall down the floor. She lifted the top cover up and peered inside.

“Uh… wow.” She slowly nodded her head hoping it would give her time to wrap this one around her brain and figure out why she is looking at…

“Keys?” Nami looked up at Zoro in surprise.

Zoro smirked. “What? Are you expecting something else?”

Nami recovered quickly. “Nope. Not really.” She forced out a laugh. “I mean, I was actually expecting not to get anything from you at all after those diamonds.” She stared at the content of the box again. It wasn’t even a key for a car. She thought, a bit dumbfounded. So what the hell is…

She lifted her head and realized that Zoro was now looking at her amusedly. He had this certain expression on his handsome face that tells her he is up to something.

“What?” Nami queried, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t like the expression on your face right now.”

He just shrugged his shoulders and continued looking at her with amusement dancing behind his grey eye.

“Merry Christmas Nami.” He greeted in that deep, lazy voice of his. “That should stop you from nicking my own set.”

Nami’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open when she finally realized what those keys are for.

Stupid Zoro just gave her her own set of keys for his house.

Her very own set.

She glanced down at it again.

Does he have any idea on how serious the implication of his gift was?

She lifted her eyes up to gaze at his face. And she knew instantaneously that he had thought this one through. After all, Zoro rarely decides things on a whim.

Without another word she threw herself at him, glomping him with enough force to almost push him back against the writing desk.

She buried her face on his neck. She could feel the rumble of laughter on his chest at her reaction.

“I take it that you like it?” Zoro laughingly asked.

Nami looked up at him and replied with a dazzling smile. “Definitely.”

“Better than the diamonds?”

“That is a hard question Zoro.” She mock-pouted. “I like them both very much.”

Zoro responded with a chuckle.  

She studied his face for a moment, unsure on how she would ask the question that’s weighing on her mind for months now.

“Zoro…”

“Hnn?”

Nami took a deep breath. “You know that this… you know that this means…” she trailed off and instead pointed a finger at him and then at herself. “Are we making this official?” She just blurted out not knowing how to proceed anymore.

His answer was a simple yes. And gave her that smile that never fails to steal her breath away. That one smile she always, always coveted to see directed at her.

And there was no really better response to that but to press her lips on his in the softest of kisses that he eagerly returned.

She was giggling when she pulled away. “I’m so going to put that bathroom of yours into good use.” She murmured while running her fingers through his hair.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirmed. “And you will definitely have a lot of sleepless nights from here on.” She grinned naughtily at him.

“Looking forward to it.” He whispered before Nami kissed him again.

“And also, now that we are official,” Nami murmured in between kisses. “I will collect my percentages from all your betting pool wins.”

Zoro jerked back at that and was now staring at her incredulously.

She smiled mischievously at him. “Oh. Usopp tattled.”

“Usopp?” Zoro repeated. “That idiot. Pretty sure he wants to split the wins tonight with you.”

“Definitely. And the tattler also told me you’re in it too. So want to counter-offer?”

Zoro looked like he was pondering for a moment. “No way that’s gonna be fifty-fifty. You’re too much of a witch to be fair.”

Nami threw her head back and laugh.

“Sixty-forty,” she offered impishly.

“I knew it.” Zoro huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Nami tapped his chest. “Sixty on you… and you take me out on a really fancy date.”

Zoro grinned. “Eighty-twenty.”

Nami’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs.

“I’ll take you out on a fancy date and not on that place where dartboard brows goes.”

“Go on…” Nami still looked unconvinced.

Zoro bent down slightly so his lips were now touching her ear. “Then I’ll take you home. And we’ll spend all three days before the New Year party in bed.”

The corners of Nami’s lips quirked at that.

“You better not be talking about just sleeping there Zoro.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“Then you got yourself a deal.”

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Can I request Doc x Nurse assistant! Reader who was treated badly by nurses where they work?

Doc x Nurse!reader

CW: Past abuse/trauma

"Ahem." You jumped slightly, turning around to meet the goggles of your new employer. With his face bandaged and goggles over his eyes, his expression was hard to read. No doubt if you could see it, you'd see the same judgement and irritation from your previous coworkers, before it would spill into anger as they screamed how incompetent, how useless you-

"Could you hand me a roll of bandages? Above your head, to the right." You turned back around, seeing a small cardboard box with 'BANDAGES' scrawled on in sharpie. Rushing to avoid being screamed at, your fingers held the box and-

It slipped from your grasp, the rolls tumbling to the floor, one of them rolling away and unravelling as it went. You followed them to the floor, crying and flinching away. "I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean it-" You cried, shaking and preparing for a slap.

"Are you alright?" Doc's voice was soft, or as soft as he could manage. You looked at him, he was kneeling down on one leg, his hand inches from your shoulder. "It was an accident, I need some new boxes anyway... I'm guessing your training wasn't smooth sailing."

The pair of you were now sitting together, Doc behind his desk, and you in front of it. He'd cleared his desk, serving some lavender tea for you to help calm you down, breaking out a secret stash of cookies he kept hidden for himself. "I'm trusting you with this secret. If the boys knew of this, they'd be raiding my cupboards every night." He chuckled.

Even with his relaxed attitude, you were still on edge, preparing for him to snap in an instant. The Matron was very good at putting up a nice front before doing a rug pull and turning vicious. The physical abuse you could see coming, the mental abuse was something else. The sick irony in care workers being some of the most cruel people you've met.

"So," Doc lowered his mask, showing off his scarred face. Deep scars gouged into his face, a Glasgow smile slit into his cheeks. "do you want to discuss what just happened, or not?"

"Well...." You nibbled on a cookie, trying to calm your nerves. "yeah, I.. I guess. Uh.. um.. It wasn't nice. Well, it was to begin with, but it spiralled fast. Where I trained, it was a real dog-eat-dog place. The strong step on the weak to get what they want. You don't want to follow in their lead, you become a target yourself. I helped a patient another nurse was beating, and that's when the trouble started for me."

A shaky breath escaped your lips. "Take your time, you don't need to go over everything if it's too much." You glanced up at Doc. "We can take a break if you need to."

"How'd you get your scars?" You pointed at your cheek.

Doc cleared his throat and shrugged. "I suppose I can answer that. Deimos and I used to be part of the agency. We were dissenting, and happened to get caught. Or, I did. I was pinned down, one of my former friends pulled his knife and started carving. Deimos put a stop to it by shooting him in the back of the skull. He saved my life, as I had his many times before."

Doc had told you little pieces here and there about how he'd adopted a newborn and orphaned Deimos and raised him, they'd been together since Dei's beginning, a father figure to the little shit.

"He was sobbing, pretty upset. He thought I was gonna die since I was coughing up blood. I had to calm him, and get him to help treat my face. Kid's been through hell with me. Of course that means I know I can trust him with my life."

Out of everyone in the base, Dei and Doc had the strongest bond, but you knew from the subtle glances and awkward flirts that Dei and San's bond was pretty strong too.

"You trust the others?" You glanced behind, almost expecting them to be standing there, but they weren't even close to your location, the three of them on a mission to intercept some more firearms.

"Sanford, sure. He's helped since day one, using his strength, mechanic and cooking skills to help everyone. Sometimes I train with him. A skilled tactician, and a sadist when he needs to be. Good for getting information."

Doc paused, taking a long drink of tea. "Hank on the other hand, absolutely not. He's reckless, downright moronic when he's got a goal in mind. Nothing else matters but meeting it. I don't doubt that one day he's going to try and kill the team. But I know we can put him down when that happens."

That didn't really take away from your worries. "What if Hank hurts me?"

"I'll kill him." Doc's eyes narrowed. "It was hard enough to find a nurse to aid me, let alone one as competent as you are. The only think I believe holding you back is self doubt. You've got potential. I just wish you'd use it."

"You get told you're awful and beaten for it long enough, and you believe it." You replied, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Doc exhaled, a long and resolute sigh. "I suppose I've got a lot of work to do building you back up then." He smiled, his aged features looking rather handsome in the dull light. "I believe in you, and I know you'll be the perfect nurse to this doc."

[drowxiv]

While talking with a friend I realized that because of the way I went about pulling Viedyn into FFXIV (because I needed a character I cared about to motivate me to try the game) I accidentally created a divergence in his timeline. Now there's three completely different versions of him.

Canon version - The first son of his noble house and the right hand of his Matron. He's merciless in the execution of her will because he understands that was what he was born for. His icy exterior is difficult to get past. The only person he truly "cares" for is his younger brother, whom he practically raised. He'll go up against the Matron, and deal with her wrath, if it means shielding him. This canon version of him dies the night his noble house falls. He holds a choke point while Durafein and the Matron escape. As long as one noble survives, their house stands, and while he doesn't care what happens to the Matron, he knows Durafein is stealthy enough to evade capture. Viedyn isn't. He squares himself with the sacrifice because it's ultimately depriving their enemy of complete victory and he goes out content with that knowledge. FFXIV "gameplay" version - swinging wildly between a glam fashion icon and the most unhinged elephant-headed gremlin. Almost everything he wears while I'm playing the actual game is diametrically opposed to the wicked looking black armor he wears "in canon". FFXIV "FC" version - My FC isn't rp-heavy by any means but there's some light RP and general "FC LORE" that is followed. They naturally wanted me to be a part of this but the OC that is "Viedyn" is technically long dead which wasn't going to work. So this "FC Version" of him is basically an "AU" where he has survived the fall of his house and this is the life he's experiencing in this "new world" he's escaped to. He falls into a similar position with Rachel, the head of the FC, because serving a "Matron" (so-to-speak) is what feels most comfortable to him. Which is neat. But I've been Gposing all three of these versions AND NOT TAGGING ANY OF THEM. Because in my head the separation is obvious. So I'm gonna retroactively fix some of that....but I'll be tagging going forward "canon (Character)" "gameplay (Character)" or "rare fc lore" because I already made that tag lol I'm also totally stealing the "ffxiv (character)" tag idea from a mutual. Thank you for that one. <3

[bridgyrose]

So, for my next prompt idea...

Someone makes an attempt on Willow's life, thinking she'd be easy picking. She easily kicks their ass.

(I can do something with that)

Sienna smirked as she cut through one of the windows of Schnee manor, careful to make sure the glass didnt shatter or break. She slowly made her way in, moving the sabyr mask down to cover her face and opening the window for the rest of her team. “Its clear.” 

A couple White Fang operatives climbed in through the window, adjusting their own masks to keep their identities from being seen. “And you’re sure she’s here?” one of them asked. 

“While Jacques may be out, Willow is here.” Sienna closed the window and pulled out a burner scroll she carried, thumbing through until she found the layout of the manor. “Willow was left alone this weekend, which makes her the perfect target to make the SDC pay for what they’ve done.” 

“Wouldnt Jacques be better to kill?” the other White Fang agent asked. 

Sienna put her scroll back and gripped the hilt of her weapon as she made her way to the door. “Normally, but this company is like a hydra. Take one head out, and two more seem to take it’s place. Killing Jacques wont do anything but make the board of directors double down on everything they’re doing and causing more problems for us. Though, by killing his wife, that’ll force him to have to act and bring him and the rest of the heads of the SDC into easier reach to kill them all at once rather than one at a time.” 

“And if this doesnt work?” 

“It has too.” Sienna slowly opened the door to the small office she had ended up in, peeking out into the hallway to make sure her intel was right. While most of the servants of the manor didnt live here, there were still a few servants that would still roam the halls in case anyone in the family needed assistance. Though, since Jacques was out at another meeting in Mistral and the kids that Willow had were off at their respective schools until their next break, it meant that Willow was alone with minimal staff around. Not that the staff would really care after a few bribes in case they were caught. 

A grin crossed her lips as she quietly made her way through the halls, avoiding the few cameras that littered the halls, shooting them to make sure none of them caught what was going on. The few servants that she ran into were easily bribed to look the other way, and those that couldnt be were easily subdued and locked into another room by her team. Sienna stopped after she reached a door at the end of the hall, pulling up the map of the manor and directing through the door, up a flight of stairs, and through another couple hallways until she and her team finally reached the master bedroom. She slowly opened the door, quietly motioning for her team to follow in. 

The White Fang agents made their way in just as quietly as they’d been through the halls, quickly taking either side of the bed. Sienna grinned as she made her way to the foot of the bed, whip in hand as she swung it around. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a blade towards the head of the bed. She pulled the blanket off, freezing when she saw that Willow wasnt there. “Where-” 

Unsteady footsteps echoed through the hallway as someone stumbled towards the bedroom, glass shattering as a glass slipped out of hand. “I-I guess that’s enough to drink tonight.” 

Sienna motioned for her team to get to the edges of the room, taking to the shadows herself as she watched Willow walk into the bedroom. She slipped one of the blades off her whip, gripping it as she watched the matron of the Schnees close the door with a glyph and nearly collapse on the bed. Finally, her target was here in front of her, helpless. She threw the blade at Willow, smirk on her face as it went true to her target. 

A glyph stopped the blade as Willow rolled over. “I’m not drunk enough to not know someone is in my room.” 

Sienna frowned and readied her whip as she watched Willow sit up, a growl escaping her lips as she rushed forward and threw the blade at Willow. Another glyph stopped the blade, as Willow stood up and grabbed the sword she kept next to her bed. A glyph appeared behind her as a boarbatusk rose from it, blue eyes looking around at the other two White Fang that stood at the edges of the room. 

“Guess it wasnt a complete waste to keep this,” Willow said as she held her blade unsteadily in her hand, years out of practice. She stumbled a bit as she got her feet into position, watching the assassins in her room. “But I know how to handle people like you.” 

“Then show me,” SIenna growled out as she rushed towards Willow, swinging her whip around to strike at her. 

Willow drunkenly staggered out of the way, her boar charging at the other two White Fang members as she used a series of glyphs to block each strike, then using her sword to slash at Sienna. 

Sienna pulled back as she felt the blade slice through her aura and nick her arm. She frowned as she watched the blood drip, then she turned towards her partners who were struggling to keep the boarbatusk summon at bay, leading it down the hallway as it slammed into the walls. Lights turned on outside the manor as a few of the servants that were still here started to make their way outside. 

“I used to be a huntress!” Willow yelled out as she sliced at Sienna again, narrowly missing her. “Now get out of my house!” 

Sienna quickly went on the defensive as she twirled her whip around, avoiding each staggered slash that came at her and knocking each stab away. “Adam! Ilia! We need to get out of here!” 

Adam sliced through the summon and growled. “We can take her-” 

“Its not about whether we can win, its about getting out of her and living another day!” Sienna blocked another slash with her whip, slicing through the air and causing an explosion of ice in front of her. “Killing her is not worth getting arrested!” 

Ilia lowered her whip as a few sirens started to fill the air, coming towards the manor. “She’s right. If we kill her now, we’ll be thrown into the mines here for sure.” 

Adam sheathed his blade and frowned. “Fine, but we will kill her.” 

“We will.” Sienna pulled back from the ice in the hallway as it shattered, her aura flickering as another boarbatusk summon slammed into her. She picked herself up as she watched Willow walk to the ruined doorway, two summoned boarbatusks behind her as another glyph started to spawn in front of her. With a growl, she pulled out a fire dust crystal and threw it hard into the ground. 

Willow put up another glyph to keep herself safe from the explosion, coughing as smoke filled the hallway. Sienna took the moment to rush out the window, using her whip to swing around to the roof to hide in the shadows, watching Ilia and Adam rush off on their own. She held her arm where Willow’s blade had struck, sighing as she ran off to get away. 

[sapphobolide]

FFXIVWrite Day 11 — "Surrogate"

Lyse prayed. Papalymo knelt beside her, while pieces of Dalamud trailed above the treetops like falling stars. On their knees before Nophica’s Altar, they prayed to the Matron. They prayed to the Twelve.

Fire and thunder split the heavens. The red moon ruptured, then burst as a new sun tore open the night sky. Lyse leapt to her feet, head spinning, and even Papalymo looked up as meteors rained quaking fury upon the land. As the earth shook beneath them, a roar the likes of nothing Lyse had ever heard echoed from afar.

“What in the seven hells was that?” she demanded. She looked down at Papalymo, who was now standing to his full three-fulm height. His face was deathly serious, his eyes on a horizon she could not see. “Papalymo?”

“Dalamud’s prisoner.” She could barely hear him over the impact of fiery stone crashing into the forest around them. “Bahamut.”

“Who?”

“We had deemed the tale allegory, or exaggeration. But the possibility of its veracity had never escaped my consideration—nor, I should think, Master Louisoix’s.”

She had no idea what he was on about. She looked up at the storm of light in the sky where Dalamud had been. At its eye, she caught a glimpse of something moving. A monstrous, winged shape, outlined in gold. Gods, it must be absolutely massive. “Is that—is that a primal?”

Papalymo followed her gaze. “The first, if the tale is to be believed.”

Lyse stared at him, mouth open. “W-what do we do?”

“Continue the summoning. Our plan to arrest the fall of Dalamud may be of little use now, but Master Louisoix can still use the power of the Twelve to cast a great spell of sealing.” Papalymo closed his eyes briefly, as though pained. “…Though not without cost.”

She looked back at Nophica’s Altar. Another terrible roar shook the heavens. The golden light above them was spreading—chasing after the fallen shards of Dalamud, ribbons of scorching fire wove a deadly tapestry across the sky. Around them, the forest burned. “I—I can’t.”

Papalymo scowled. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I mean I can’t! I’m not a mage, or a scholar, or anything like the rest of you! I don’t know how!”

“We’ve gone over the process. You must simply believe. Believe, and pray, and put your faith in the others to do the same.”

“I know, but—"

“Do you mean to run all the way to Carteneau instead? Sprout wings and take the fight to the sky? Calm yourself, Yda—”

“Yda isn’t here!” she screamed. Papalymo’s eyes widened. She felt stupid—she was the one who had put on the mask, had asked that he call her that—but the words were spilling out now, and she couldn’t stop them. “I wish she was! Yda was wise, and strong, and never gave up! But I can’t just decide to be like that, Papalymo. I can’t pretend the gods are finally going to listen this time! If the Twelve really answered prayers, then my sister would still be—"

“Stop.”

It was the softness of his voice that shut her mouth. Lyse looked away. Around them, the land continued to buckle and break.

Papalymo took a step closer to her. “You’re right. Your sister…my old friend…she isn’t here. But you are. And I need you to do what she no longer can.”

Lyse sank to the ground. She shook her head, unwilling to look him in the eye.

“Yda’s wisdom, her strength, her persistence…They are yours now. Just as surely as that mask is—and those tattoos.” He gently touched the mark on the side of her neck, then put his hand on her shoulder. “If I did not believe you could bear them, I would not have given them to you.”

She looked up at Papalymo. His face was still serious, but his grey eyes were honest and clear. After a moment she let out a long breath, and nodded.

Returning to their place before Nophica’s Altar, Lyse and Papalymo prayed. Please, Lyse thought with all her might. Nophica, Halone, Althyk—Mighty Rhalgr. She prayed as the world ended. Get their attention for me, Yda. Help me save us all.

Around the horizon, pillars of white-blue light pierced the storm above. It swelled around Nophica’s Altar as well, rising like a spear to the heavens. Lyse and Papalymo bowed their heads as it swallowed them.

They'd done it. They summoned the Twelve.

And it was not enough.

[theology101]

My Works Master File

Howdy! I do a lot of stuff across a lot of different platforms, so I figured that I should maybe collect some of them. I'm only including active or completed works in this - I do not have the best history of follow up lmao

ASOIAF

She-Wolf of the Rock: My first ever fic and... you can tell. It's also my most kudos story... we make do. It's dogshit and a fetish story before I understood that it was. But I'm still proud of it

Tentacle Porn, but the Tentacle is a Metaphor: Female Theon Greyjoy gets silly drunk and seduces Jon Snow

A Quiet Conversation: The recently married younger son of the King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name, has come back from war. And not only that, he's gotten married and has a baby! Modern AU where Jon decides he and Joffrey need to have a chat

The Daughters of Tytos Lannister: Tytos' children are genderswapped. Tya is Tywin, Tyene is Tygett, Kyrene is Kevan, Gerion is Abigael and Genna is Gerold. Female Tywin is just as brutal - but in a different sort of way

Who would win in a fight, Robert Baratheon or the Mountain? My first major Quora answer and also a respect Robert Baratheon thread. Plus, I figured people might want some more info on medieval weapons

Will George R.R. Martin's Winds of Winter be different than the television series? Will he change the outcome or events or keep things the same? This is for those who are familiar with the show but don't know that much about the books. This thread is my explanation of a few differences.

Cannibal, the Cradle Egg of Maegor the Cruel, is alive on Skagos and will bond with Jon Snow: A theory I think I actually came up with? I've always thought Cannibal on Skagos could be the 'Waking Dragon from Stone.' Idk, I first posted this on quora years ago but this reddit link is the most clear

Unnatural Histories: A book-accurate Spreadsheet of all Dragons in ASOIAF sorted by either age, size, or political affiliation.

Baldur's Gate:

A Plant on the Road to Baldur's Gate: Halsin and Jaheria find some weed. Lae'zel, who has never been high before, get's overconfident. Shadowheart metls. (3/3)

Saved (Against her wyll): Wyll/Minthara starting in act 2. He learns that she's brainwashed and feels morally obligated to save her - only to then find out she was always like that, just her allegiance changed. (2/3)

Mommy? Sorry: Tavomir of Fort Morninglord's mother comes to visit the camp. But... she didn't know Tav would be there. The rest of the camp reacts to his mother, specifically Wyll and Karlach

Star Wars:

Two There Must Be: Anakin/Vader's spirit, immediately after Endor, is teleported back over fifty years to be reborn as his own older sibling. Or should I say, her own because she's in a female body. Started as silly goofy, but now I'm really into the politics of the Prequel era

Title of Jen'ari: AU of 2tmb, set a thousand years before Yavin on the planet Dromuund Kaas. Has minor spoilers for 2tmb (read until chapter 13) but is largely independent of anything. Anakin and Ava are siblings and they're Sith attending an Election on Dromuund Kaas

Fan Map of Dathomir: Legends and Canon have two wildly different depections of Dathomir. My solution? It's just different continents lmao. I consider the Nightsisters to actually just be a collection of other clans under the authority of one Overclan and it's Matron - that being Talzin. The Language is butchered Slavic but such is life.

Misc:

Nieces and Nephews: Sabrina Spellman is prepared to face down the Dark Lord... only for a sarcastic, British asshole to walk into Dorian's. He flashes his detective badge, and claims to be Lucifer Morningstar, who came from LA to deal with an impostor. And oops, Sabrina is his daughter!

Conductive Materials: Female Toni Stark and Thor bond over the fact that position's of power can often limit their personal connections. And then they bond over not having a power dynamic over each other.

No One Escapes Cidhna Mine: My first attempt to chronicle my elder scrolls character. It was fine, I guess, I'm not too crazy about it and would definitely change a few things about it now. My Dragonborn (or the one I consider to be my 'main') is a Half Nord Half Reachman intent on reaching godhood through artifacts and political schemes.

[jurif]

“Teufel! Schaitan! Plage!”

His hands and feet are bound.

“Our Father which art in Heaven—”

He’s screaming and thrashing like a madchild.

“Hallowed be thy name.”

His face is damp not with tears nor sweat but the blood of Christus himself.

“Thy kingdom come.”

“Dämonenkind!”

“Thy will be done—”

He bares his fangs like a dog. The matrons gasp.

“In Earth, as it is in Heaven.”

Devil, devil, devil. He can hardly stand to look at the cross thrust in his face. He had not been escorted gently. They had ripped him from his bed and dragged him, terrified, to the prayer room, where he was held down and tied up—no chance of escape. The matrons look at him in fear and disgust and Herr Pfarrer Fischer’s lips form each Latin syllable robotically, eyes cold as they meet the child’s own (green, at birth, though now they’re a reddish brown, blood tracked into dirt). Playing God. Playing his saviour.

Now for the Hail Marys.

I don’t want to be here, he thinks. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. The rope chafes at his sickly grey skin until it breaks and bleeds. He writhes.

How long has he been here?

Herr Pfarrer Fischer is speaking to him. Or, more accurately, Herr Pfarrer Fischer is speaking to the demon encasing itself in his tiny body, commanding it to show itself. To leave this innocent child.

Right now, he would like nothing more than to rip out Fischer’s throat with his teeth.

Now he’s begging. Herr Pfarrer Fischer ignores him. The matrons watch, voyeuristic. Everyone knows why the other children’s pets have been disappearing. Everyone knows who took them. Sucked the blood out of them. Left their rotting carcasses in bins scattered around the property. They know. They want this child exterminated.

"Stop," he says, "Stop. Stop." In the beginning he’d been more polite, pleading for his freedom, but they’ve kept him too long for him to be concerned with that now. He is hurting. His head is cracked open and leaks against the sterile linoleum floor.

Herr Pfarrer Fischer does not stop. Herr Pfarrer Fischer keeps going for hours and hours, even though absolutely nothing about him has changed except his voice growing hoarse from his constant, guttural screams. Eventually, finally, he withdraws, telling the matrons that it’s alright and in most cases follow-up sessions are in order, reassuring them that this wasn’t a lost cause and they’ll get rid of this devil yet.

Follow-up sessions.

This is where Herr Pfarrer Fischer leaves him. A matron reluctantly steps forward, cuts his hands and feet loose, and then she leaves him, too. The adults mechanically file out of the room while he shivers and bleeds on the ground. Oh, he is so hungry. Oh, he is so weak. He turns his head, exhausted, tongue lolling out to lap at his own blood.

Jezus eyes him disappointedly.

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 20: Knife Wound Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet Triggers/Content warnings: n/a

Happens shortly after this

Also references this

He's moved, not gently, and with little care for his wounds.

As he struggles back into consciousness, Sanson tries to shout through the gag - Eve must be coming back this way by now, or perhaps Guydelot will wonder what's keeping them; if he can but get their attention...! But no, his voice is thoroughly muffled, and the "bandits" move far too swiftly, covering all signs of their retreat.

Whoever these men are - Nourval's men - they know altogether too well how to hide their tracks. Well-trained and too skilled to be mere sellswords; were Sanson to guess, he might speculate that they're the sons of Gridania's wealthy elites, venerable and daunting. The sort of men who very well might align themselves with a youth claiming to be descended from Vainchelon himself, promising a war of vengeance against Ala Mhigo...

And then one of the men carrying him jars Sanson's wounds, and he thinks about little else but the pain for a while.

He tries, through the red haze that fogs his vision, to take note of where they're going - but he recognizes little of the terrain, having gotten precious little time to scout outside of the castrum. And he fades in and out of consciousness, waking wearier and wearier each time, only dimly aware of the men speaking around him.

His fear fades into numbness.

When at last they drop him unceremoniously on the ground at nightfall, Sanson is hardly lucid. He doesn't recognize the area - of course not. The beginnings of a camp bustle to life around him, but beyond that, he cannot guess where they are. Still somewhere in Gyr Abania, he supposes...

He closes his eyes, suddenly longing only for the escape sleep offers.

"Ah, no you don't." A gentle slap to his already-bruised cheek snaps Sanson out of his doze, and he opens his eyes to the unwelcome sight of Nourval kneeling beside him. On his other side is a grizzled older Wildwood man, frowning down at him with what looks disarmingly like concern.

"It's the blow to the head," the older fellow says, gently prodding at the back of Sanson's skull, tsking when Sanson hisses in pain. "There's little I can do for it; you young fools and your penchant for cracking skulls-"

"Fine, fine." Nourval waves it off. "See to his other wounds, then. We don't want him bleeding out."

The old man huffs. "Then you might have avoided stabbing him, mightn't you?"

What follows is the single most humiliating medical examination Sanson has ever endured, with the only saving grace being that Nourval has the decency to keep watch - and his back turned, keeping the other men at a distance. Though Sanson has never considered himself a particularly modest man, there's something demoralizing about being stripped and searched twice in one godsdamned day...

He flinches when the old healer's hands find the knife wound, low on his side, where Nourval had taken the blood to write his message for Guydelot.

Guydelot...

Matron, what must Guydelot be thinking now? He must be beside himself with fear and fury in equal measure; what if he does something foolhardy?

He squeezes his eyes shut. Tries to imagine it's Guydelot's hands on him, instead.

"That'll want stitches," the healer murmurs to himself, cleaning the wound. Before Sanson can so much as brace himself, he feels the touch of a needle-

He bites down hard on the gag, choking on his scream.

Guydelot... he'd once sat perfectly still, unflinching, while Guydelot stitched up his wounds, refusing to cry out. Gods, how it hurt! But pride kept him silent; stubborn pride. He'd hated the bard with everything he had, then, and refused even to give him the satisfaction of seeing him show any sign of pain. It'd taken everything in him to clench his jaw on the desire to scream, to keep himself from weeping from the burning agony of each pass of the needle.

Tough little bastard, Guydelot had said.

He hadn't screamed for Guydelot; he won't scream for Nourval and his men, either.

He bites down hard, clenches his bound hands into fists. In and out goes the needle. In and out goes his breath, slow and even. Black spots dance in his vision, in tune with the pounding in his head.

The process seems to take forever.

"That's the worst of it," the healer says, tugging Sanson's clothing back into place. "He'll feel like dying for a day or two, I'd wager, but he'll live, like as not. I'll check back in on him in the morning."

Sanson, relaxing at last, limp as a wrung-out dishcloth, sprawls miserably on the ground. Nourval says something; he doesn't hear it. Doesn't care. Tired, too tired; he wants to sleep. He wants Guydelot, and the safety of curling into his arms at night. He wants this all to be nothing more than a dream, an awful dream, and he'll wake in the morning to find himself still wrestling over Gylbarde's journal.

He wants...

[foxboyclit]

stubbornness: the best medicine

In which Iphis cares for his Mistress.

ive been a little under the weather lately which made me wanna post this, because i have to inflict mild inconveniences on my characters

Minisstra was known for her brutality, both with knives and words, but she mastered what other matrons could not- knowing when to release her wrath and to the appropriate extent. Today, however, her patience wore thin, seemingly as did her energy. 

Iphis noted her uncharacteristic irritability towards those she favored, the roughness of her voice, how she steadied herself on whatever she could find; something was wrong, and it was his duty to care for his Mistress.

He slipped into her office and bowed deeply, perfect from day one in hopes to remain on her good side. Glancing up at her, he saw her glazed eyes and discolored complexion, and a bolt of concern shot through him; gods only knew how she managed to crawl out of bed in such a state.

Once she permitted him to speak, he began:

“Miss, could I offer to make you some tea?”

Minisstra cleared her throat, though she still sounded like death. “That would not be necessary, I have no time for sipping idly over gossip.”

“Surely a cup at your desk wouldn’t hurt,” he suggested, “have some comfort while you work.”

She let out a ragged sigh, “I’m not interested, Ra’soltha.  If you have nothing else to say, I’d appreciate being left to my work.”

Iphis noted that her desk was terribly unorganized, and what he could read was all half-finished.

“My apologies for obstructing your productivity, dear Minnie.”

Minisstra’s glare was partially shielded by a hand rubbing her forehead. “Remember who you’re speaking to-”  her voice kicked into a rolling boil, but her admonishment was cut short by a coughing fit. Iphis circled around the desk to lay a hand on her back.

“I think it’d be best to turn in”, he said, gently patting her shoulders, but Minisstra waved him off. 

“I do not need to be put to bed like some child,” she protested, and Iphis suppressed an eye roll. 

“Please, it’s my job to serve you, and if you keel over this House will resort to eating each other.” 

“You better thank Lloth I’m not well enough to punish that tongue of yours.” his Mistress rasped, though she begrudgingly let him guide her to her chambers. 

Now that she leaned on him, Iphis could hear her breaths escaping in short, labored gasps, and he found himself rubbing her forearm in an attempt to comfort. 

Minisstra collapsed onto the bed as Iphis tucked her in, then retrieved a novel and a pair of glasses from her bedside table and set it gently in her lap. 

“You focus on relaxing, I’ll be back.” she nodded, her gaze distant as it tried to follow him out of the room. Iphis made his way to House Nydalla’s chapel, ducking into the storage area tucked in the far north side of the main room, and began his search.

Jars of various components and salves lined the shelves, and he hastily picked over the concoctions needed. He ought to recognize some due to past cleric training, but his memory was fuzzy. Fortunately, he nearly collided with just the right person.

“First Priestess Zesnirra, how elated I am to see you.”  he greeted, trying to prevent a jar from tumbling out of his hands.

“Iphis,” she nodded curtly, “what brings a male like you in the chapel uninvited?”

“Matron Nydalla’s under the weather, I was trying to find some medicine.”

Zesnirra raised an eyebrow,  “You managed to get her out of that damned office, impressive. But-” she said, reaching for one of the potions in his arms, “you should pay attention to where you’re pulling these from. Don’t make her sicker than she already is.”

“You never bothered to separate tinctures from poisons?” he asked as she calmly replaced everything he was holding to its home on the shelves.

“You never bothered to learn to read?” she retorted, tapping the label on the edge of the shelf. “Come,” she said, already set toward another shelving unit. Iphis scoffed as he tried to keep up.

“Not all of us have legs so long Lloth’s children would be envious.” Zesnirra ignored him as she sorted through the various medicines. She handed him a palm-sized jar that smelled strongly of mint, then a bottle of thick, dark liquid. 

“That salve goes on the chest and throat, and give her a couple teaspoons from that bottle every few hours. Oh, and run a hot bath, that’s sure to clear the sinuses. Xunnilee should have tea brought up soon.”

“Your help is very appreciated,” Iphis bowed, wasting no time in making it back to Minisstra’s quarters.

He returned to find her sipping the tea Zesnirra mentioned, and Iphis suppressed a smile at the sight of his Minnie all cozy with a drink to ease her cough and a book, her stress. She folded the book closed as he approached. 

“How’s your tea, Miss?” 

She wrinkled her nose, sniffling slightly. “Much too sweet, but Xunnilee swore by adding honey. Remind me to not waste money on such a saccharine import.”

“You sound less like you swallowed handfuls of gravel, so I’d argue its worth.” 

Minisstra narrowed her eyes, but said nothing as she downed the last sip. Iphis took the empty cup and set it aside. 

“What other remedies do I have the privilege of looking forward to?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll like this one, if I may.” Iphis offered a hand as he helped her out of bed and guided her to the bathroom. 

He uttered an arcane command, and the tub started to fill with steaming water as his quick hands worked to undress her.  He caught a faint smile from her as he unraveled each delicate strap and helped her slip out of her dress, then her stockings, until her outfit was nothing more than a neatly folded pile. Resting a hand on her lower back, Iphis then assured she climbed inside the tub safely.

Minisstra sighed as she sank into the warm water, finally submitting to the comfort it brought to her. Iphis washed her hair, his nails scratching her scalp just enough to release a pleased hum from her throat.

“You always know how to serve your Mistress,” she muttered, taking the bar of soap from his extended hand. “Even when she proves it difficult.”

He stroked her hair as she settled under the covers, muttering soft wishes of recovery as she slipped into reverie.

“It’s simply my job,” Iphis smiled as she finished bathing. Taking her hand once more, he lifted her out and began drying her off as she leaned against the wall for balance.

Once they made it back to bed, Iphis rubbed the salve into her skin as she forced down a dose of the medicine. Minisstra was always beautiful, but this rare moment of vulnerability smoothed out every sharp edge, and while he could never forget her power, he couldn’t help but see her as delicate. 

[legendtraineremily]

Foreword for the post: When writing characters and giving them depth, I like to use a little method I was given a few years ago—write a mock “Q&A” bit with your character and see how they’d react to certain questions.

In my last post I described Izzy Goodin, the Celestial Warlock. Here’s his Q&A. (Bolded text is the interviewer)

First of all, is your name, “Izzy” short for something?

-Oh? Hmm? No, not at all. It is just Izzy. Not a conventional name, even by halfling standards but that is what was decided.

Decided…by your parents I would assume?

-No actually. You may find this interesting: I was not raised by my parents where I grew up. You see, I was raised in a sequestered halfling settlement—a place I now look back on as what many would deem a fanatic cult—wherein the child raising was assigned to certain matrons of the community. Naming, too, was done by a group of matrons said to have a special talent in finding the “true name,” they called it, of each babe.

Interesting. So, you’ve described yourself as a “celestial warlock.” How is that any different from a cleric, or a simply, pious wizard?

-Well, the most important difference (and why I say “warlock”) is the contract aspect. As you are likely aware, the gift of magic is bestowed upon many faithful priests or worthy followers, and still many find magic within arcane secrets and innate abilities. But warlocks are gifted magical abilities through a deal made with higher beings. Now, again, you’re likely aware that most of these contracts are with demonic or eldritch forces. That is because these beings find it hard to bestow magical gifts in the same manner as more godly beings. But a celestial warlock is one where the being offering the contract is more, well, celestial in nature—angels, minor deities, and the like. In my case, the halfling deity of strength and righteous defense, Arvonee. Where you would expect him to advocate for more clerics, he opted to form a contract with me, when I had hit rock-bottom, so to speak but also quite literally. It seemed, and still seems, to me that clerics and paladins, being beholden to no truly binding oath, were a fickle force for his will, and thus he contracted me.

Wow! That sounds really amazing! How has it been in your god’s service?

-To be honest? It has been…an experience. While I enjoy helping my fellow halflings and being employed, so to speak, in the service of a righteous being, there are drawbacks. Using my powers is quite physically draining, his voice can echo in my head annoyingly at times, and I have near limitless years to serve. Yet, overall, I am fulfilled.

Huh. Sounds like a very unorthodox set-up.

-Indeed.

Now, final questions. First: we were told that the name of your team was suggested by you. How did that occur?

-Ah, yes. Well what started out as an exclamation of exasperation turned into quite the bonding moment. I was frustrated with some of the more, shall we say, belligerent members of our party. We were trying to figure out how to escape a loaded spike trap and none of us were any closer to disarming it after each of us tried multiple times. I stated that we were just a gaggle of fools, incapable of accomplishing what should be a simple task. It was with that utterance, “we are a gaggle of fools,” that Elowina finally snapped and smashed the whole mechanism with her hammer. And of course, it worked.

Oh my, that’s quite the story. Last question now. You’ve been described as having a romantic’s touch. Any plans to settle down?

-Settle down? Oh, no, I do not think that is in my cards. Not that I would be able to, let alone, want to. Arvonee is a very tasking Lord, though a rewarding one. I may seem a romantic, yet I admit I have little interest in others in relation to romance. I just know how to treat other beings with respect when they deserve it.

Ah. Understood. Well thank you so much!

-You’re welcome.

[alurlssrinbled]

|| This isn't actually about Neth but instead info about her parents~ This is mostly for me to keep tabs on, but this may help me expand her companion quest. If you're just a fan of Neth and want to learn more about her background, go ahead and read~ (but I don't expect anyone to know this info going into any interactions XDD)

Her mother, Rhinelva, was the younger sister of the matron mother of House Melarn, Zhindia Melarn. Zhindia was the first matron mother of this house (which came from the merging of House Horlbar and House Kenafin) and was very young for a matron mother. House Melarn was known for being Lolth fanatics, and Zhindia was the driving factor in that.

Rhinelva wasn't a fanatic, but she was still a devout follower of Lolth. Faenethra is a lot like her mother (unbeknownst to her). Rhinelva was very intelligent, and that manifested in how she looked at those around her with a discerning eye and used that to model how she wanted to be. Her house was full of fanatics, but she separated herself from that because of her level head. She was more open-minded than the rest of her family, but she was still VERY much a noble female drow and was just as evil-aligned. After all, that was all she had ever known.

Until she met Faenethra's father, Endrun Togrizan. He was from a wealthy merchant family (not a very well-known one, though). Endrun was also very smart which led him to (silently) questioning the structures of Menzoberranzan society. He was a follower of Eilistraee.

Rhinelva didn't think anything of Endrun, the lowly male merchant drow. But she was a lot more patient--and curious--than the rest of her family. While perhaps her older sister would have just killed Endrun and been done with it, Rhinelva was mildly curious about this Eilistraee-following male who believed he was in love with her. She actually bothered to listen to him, and the more she listened, the more she fell for him as well. They decided to get married and Endrun had to give up Eilistraee to blend in (although he still didn't follow Lolth, which they kept quiet about).

It wasn't until Faenethra was born that Rhinelva actually started to change. In having a daughter and raising her in this family (with her discerning eye of course), she realized just how corrupt it is. She didn't want her daughter to end up like her older sister. She didn't want her daughter to look down on her father, the man Rhinelva loved, just because she was raised in this matriarchal society. So in private, Rhinelva and Endrun started to teach their young daughter to be different. They didn't know how she could be different (good drow were so few and far between), so they just told her what not to do.

But the more they did this, the more they felt detached from Lolth's ways. That made Rhinelva paranoid. She was the matron mother's sister, so of course she knew all about the punishments for going against Lolth. But she loved her husband and daughter in a way drow simply don't, and she wanted what was best for them--especially young Faenethra. So, Rhinelva and Endrun decided the best idea was to run away to the surface. If they stayed in the Underdark (especially Menzoberranzan) they wouldn't be safe from Lolth's gaze. At least they had a chance on the surface.

So, they ran. They went through an Underdark portal to the Feywild, where they planned to go to the material plane. But they didn't get very far before Lolth's own found them and punished them for their disobedience. Young 8-year-old Faenethra was hiding well (with Eilistraee's blessing) and managed to escape the attackers' gaze, so she survived. Back in Menzoberranzan, to cover up for the fact that the matron mother's own sister betrayed Lolth (especially since they already had a cousin who was found out to be a secret follower of Eilistraee) they said Rhinelva was poisoned by her husband's beliefs. They used this as propaganda to reinstate why males are "lesser" beings.

Neth barely remembers anything from her time in the Underdark. It was only the first 8 years of her life, after all. She couldn't even tell you her house's name (although she would definitely recognize its insignia if she saw it). But she does remember being in a noble house, or at least she assumes she was. She distinctly remembers feeling elevated and looking down at everyone around her, and then suddenly losing it all and now being the one who is looked down upon once she went to the Feywild.

[banished-lore]

i finally roughly translated zarthrae, maykacha and snow's backstory :D

maykacha and zarthrae are twins.

Their mother chessquiri was an extremely ambitious new noble, but she was struggling to have children and also wanted kids that would be powerful and worthy of being her heirs

She married Nadal, a powerful wizard who was born a commoner and who got a reputation through his talent and eccentricity

She was extremely possessive of him, to the point of scarring his face to make him less attractive to other women

He gave her twin daughters, which to her was a disappointment as in my hc twins are seen as bad luck by some lolthians as they're seen as not willing to fight for their survival + for the few who know about the other dark seldarine it reminds of lolth's own kids and her enemies being twins. A twin birth so late in age made chessquiri unable to bear further kids

Zarthrae was born with black hair and developed very early a talent for sorcery, while maykacha had silver hair and a talent for sword work

Chessquiri favored heavily the older zarthrae, who was under extreme pressure to perform well as a heir, while she resented maykacha for having attitudes closer to those of a man

Despite this, the twins were very close and often took to defending each other and their father from their mother

Chessquiri was extremely abusive even by Drow standards, think matron malice but worse, and left both girls and their father heavily scarred. One day, jealous of their beauty and youth, she scarred both of their faces, with zarthrae having a long scar in her cheek and maykacha having crossed scars on her nose

Over time, after she sent the two girls to the academy, it became clear that neither of them were talented priestesses: zarthrae's natural sorcery did not translate to clerical magic, and maykacha was more talented at healing but not in lolth's magic, which made chessquiri even more full of anger

On top of that, maykacha started having strange dreams of a beautiful naked Drow woman dancing in the moonlight and telling her to follow her. She became obsessed with these dreams, and one day confessed them to her sister and father. Her father being a wizard had access to many tomes that would've been otherwise forbidden, and eventually he managed to find word of this heretical goddess called eilistraee. He and the twins would pray to her in secret to give them the chance to escape

One day chessquiri discovered them, and enraged she tried to kill them, but zarthrae's full storm sorcery powers manifested, and they managed to kill the matron and escape, following a silver moth

On the surface, a wandering cleric of mystra called Sophia Walker suddenly felt a song calling to her. She found a silver moth and followed it, until she found the lost family also chasing a similar moth. As a cleric of mystra she was aware of her goddess's alliance with eilistraee, and decided to help the family and take them in. They settled down in waterdeep, where such a strange family would get lost among the melting pot of cultures. Eventually, she and Nadal fell in love, and married, and from their union the twin's younger sibling snow, birth name miz'ri argith, was born, an albino half-drow with a personality as strong as his sense of devotion to duty. He grew up in the rough streets of waterdeep, honing his abilities in fighting and stealth, and eventually he and maykacha came to serve the Dancing Haven in Waterdeep, the temple of eilistraee, him as a rogue and her as a sword dancer, while zarthrae and nadal became magic researchers under sophia's guidance. they live a quiet and modest life, and sophia died in 1492, peacefully, of old age.