#the unburdened alchemist

[exoni]

I think these changes help get the idea of my character across. I like this.

as of today you can do all sorts of fancy new things to your fallen london profile page to make it even more individual

here’s mine! what’s yours like now?

[theunderneath]

Read a few pages

Walking over to one of the tables in the room, your gaze wandered over all of the papers. You felt a little overwhelmed by all of the papers.

Jumping as a loud thud rang out into the mostly quiet cabin. You quickly turned around and sighed just seeing a book that fell off the table.

Walking over to the book, you picked up the thick novel. It didn’t seem to have any title.

Running your fingertips over the leather cover you wrapped your fingers around it and turned. You watched as the book open revealing what looked to be an index for this house.

(Some of the links for the bigger fandoms couldn't fit all here, so just click on the name and it'll take you to its own master list)

Anime

One Piece

Golden Kamuy

Hetalia / 2p Hetalia

Bleach

Yandere Aizen with a chubby Darling (Headcanon / EDITED)

Yandere Ryuken Ishida headcanon (EDITED)

Yandere Kisuke Urahara Kisses (Headcanon / NSFW-y / EDITED)

Yandere Ichigo cuddling with his Darling (Headcanon / EDITED)

Yandere Kisuke Urahara headcanons (NSFW-y / EDITED)

Demon slayer

One punch man

Most likely to least likely to give their S/O an aphrodisiac (headcanon / Sweet mask, Fubuki, Garou / NSFW / EDITED)

Garou, Fubuki, and Zombieman Darling want to play the Pocky game (Headcanon / EDITED)

Haikyuu

Nanbaka

Hunter x Hunter

My Hero Academia

FMA/Fullmetal Alchemist

A conversation about Greed being a yandere

Jujutsu Kaisen

Toji with a sassy plus-sized Darling (Headcannon / EDITED)

Poly Yandere Gojo and Geto with an S-grade sorcerer reader (Headcannon / EDITED)

Ouran highschool host club

Dress Up Darling

The Apothecary Diaries

The Ancient Magus' Bride

JJBA / Jojo's Bizzare Adventures

Darling Dearest Fashion Art

Darling Dearest Expressions Art

Black Butler

Bucchigiri?!

TV

DC

Marvel

X-men

Yandere Erik Lehnsherr with a reader that has the same power as him? (One shot / EDITED)

Slashers/Horror movies

Games

Danganronpa

Overwatch

Yandere Hanzo headcanons (EDITED)

Resident Evil

Twisted Wonderland

Genshin Impact

Other media

SCP Foundation

Creepypasta

Yandere Masky x touched starved fem reader (Headcannon / EDITED)

Yandere Masky headcanons (EDITED)

Yandere Hoodie and Eyeless Jack headcanons (EDITED)

Others

Meme about blog and post 

Yandere meme (Guess I’ll die)

Do I do platonic yandere? 

Fanart of other people's OC (ONE, TWO, THREE)

Old OC art

Old creepy art (ONE, TWO)

Meme about SCP and my blog

100 follower special

Fanart of the white dear

Self-made art of another artist's rendition of this blog username

An artist rendition of this blog username (reblog)

Me simping over another OC called Fox (art)

Shit post Hearts Day (art)

Yandere short story

Lookism

Viral hit

Manager Kim

--

The index you hold in your hand closes. Your eyes feel heavy from how much reading you just did. There is not much to do now.

You could rest, maybe eat some food in the kitchen, but you have a suspicion if you leave the house and return at a later date. There might be more wonderful stories for you to read.

However, the choice is yours. You could mark this cabin on your map to return to or close the door on this chapter to continue on your journey unburdened.

The choice is yours.

[exoni]

The Fate of Mr Transport

(rather significant spoilers for the watchful gains storyline under the cut)

There are a great many things you can do in the universe of Fallen London. Today I was simultaneously a train engineer and a birth consultant. By some miracle, both the train and the child survived, *and* I got a new record for fastest trip across the Hinterlands.

A wonderful day for train enthusiasts and a horrible day for people still trying to figure out how many Masters there are.

At the Bazaar, Mr Pages told me what options I had for the child in question. As a Master of the Bazaar but also a strong supporter against the Bazaar, the choice was simple. (Mr Cards is the most ironic choice of treasure I could have picked given the Unburdened Alchemist's past history with the Bazaar.) I would travel to the Avid Horizon in order to give Mr Transport the choice to side against the Bazaar if it so chose in the future.

A short journey later, I and the child arrived at the gate. It opened for Mr Transport's sake.

May it make its own choices, and be no longer burdened by the weight of the sun. And if it returns to the Bazaar, some day far in the future, may it find solace in my and Spices' decisions. A fate turned, to overrule what came before in favor of what could be.

This time Icarus will not plummet.

~

~

~

~

Or perhaps it was all in vain, and the past will drag this choice down into utter obscurity.

Final Thoughts:

It's a curious idea, being able to make small changes here and there to potentially alter the Bazaar's future entirely. The longest con, as it were. This was definitely the most interesting way to increase base stat gains of all of them, minus the railway storyline of course. I kind of hope that Mr Transport will be relevant to some future storyline. If you bothered to read all this, I'm quite grateful for your patience.

[swordcoasted]

halsin chuckles, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly. he smiles his   kind  ,  worn  smile   ; eyes crinkle at the corners, the apples of his cheeks flush just a touch.   'sorry, my friend. sometimes i get … lost, in the beauty of the oakfather's creations. i somewhat become one with [ the forest itself , ] forgetting myself in the moment,'   he waxes poetic as he is wont to do, words   PETALED  AND  BLOSSOMING   . a large hand reaches to grasp at cerys's shoulder comfortingly, giving the half - elf a squeeze.   'didn't mean to give you a fright. i'm lucky you didn't hit me with a spell on instinct alone,'   he jests, light - hearted.   'let me make it up to you  —  i can take over watching the camp, if you'd like?'

halsin is a comforting presence : he fills a role that, frankly, cerys thinks they've needed for a long time. druids are few and far-between in baldur's gate, the urban nature often driving them away. honestly, she's glad she could help halsin in the shadowlands, even if fighting off those shadow beings from that portal was fatiguing. he seems... happier, here, being among the creations of silvanus in comparison to the closed-off nature of the druids' grove. his wisdom often keeps their [ read: the group's ] self-destructive tendencies at bay, and he proves quite formidable in combat. all that to say: cerys admires him, evident in how she places her hand atop her friend's and squeezes as he squeezes her shoulder. " oh, no, no, " she tells him, shaking her head. " i'm not so trigger-happy as to toss a fireball at every start. throwing gloompowder in your face, though... that's another thing. "

she laughs : a sweet, melodious thing remniscent of her true nature as a lower-city girl. someone unburdened by the idea of adventure, whose hands and feet still have been roughened by the forest, whose weave is closed off by the goddess mystra for wanting to help their mutual companion liberate himself from her clutches. in her lap is a mortar and pestle - on the fire is an alchemist's kettle, and there are bags of native flora all around her seated position. " i couldn't ask you to do that, not when i could take advantage of some quiet to brew my things. you're welcome to join me, though, if you like. i won't stop you from indulging in that which your god has given you. " / @faereun

[aquiescentraconteur]

In the labyrinthine corridors of memory exists a peculiar realm, a place where the bounds of the ordinary are stretched, and ethereal connections reside.

In that realm resides the recollection of the things who defied all explanation, of the people who had a presence that was more a whisper of the soul than a tangible being.

An enigmatic connection, a connection that transcended the limits of spoken words that are bound together by some invisible thread. An unspoken language that flowed effortlessly, a language that turned words redundant and communication was made through silence, a true understanding.

Each thought holds a glance or a subtle shift in expression. A place where time itself is changed, hours are like mere minutes. Those minutes? Spent discussing the mysteries of the universe, dreams, and the profound questions that linger in the hidden corners of minds.

An alchemist who transformed the mundane into the extraordinary, the everyday exploration of uncharted depths. The uncanny ability to unearth facets of myself I never knew existed.

The sailboat who ventured into the darkest caverns of the psyche, unafraid and unburdened by judgment.

The person who knew the intricacies of my thoughts and the nuances of my emotions better than anyone, even at times better than I knew myself.

[crocutacanidae]

PART ONE: THE WISHVERSE

VN cast

Socks (aka The Wisherboy, aka Kevin Ferris): Ferret boy blessed with the innate magical ability to make anything real at any point in time, essentially overwriting the known reality with one that includes his desired conditions. 16 years of age

Clint Graves (aka the Optimist): Goldie boy who is honestly just excited to be here. Is extremely chill with having come upon the meaning of life in a post-scarcity world and just wants to share it with as many people as he can. 15 years of age

Sage Lannister (aka the Biopath): inducted dragon biomancy familiar with a visible inferiority complex. Trying really hard to remind himself that what he's doing is what he loves. 17 years of age

Mako Weaver (aka the Futile Researcher): Sharkdog obsessed with the self and trying to see if it is possible to truly know oneself. 16 years of age.

Remy Lait (aka the Caged Rat): Rat who really just wants the nightmare to be over but he's fine waiting because nothing has ever bothered him in his life (lie) most patient man on the planet because he has no options. 18 years of age

Kevlar Arrye: Dragon born into a family of weather manipulators. really trying to help out his grampa with his project; they might not agree on an end goal, but the can both asses the problem of getting back land that once belonged to them that they lost in the past century.

Jacques Marguerite: Eurasian Wolf magician who does fieldwork for the nerds of the Magic Authority. also known as the Door Magician

Diggz: Hyena Wizard and alchemist. Known in more favorable tones for his wizardry than his alchemy. also known as the Forces Wizard

Extended Cast

Nihei Arrye: Kevlar's Grampa, can amplify and present storm. Nobody in his family really likes him, because hes weird in an alt-right way.

Deinh Arrye: The Arrye Family patriarch. Also known as the Blizzard Wizard. Is not actually a wizard.

Ketani and Genah Arrye: Kevlar's older sisters. inherited heatwave and wind magic. Ketani is the wilder of the sisters and takes far more after her uncle Rennar

Rennar Arrye: Well known ice wizard. Nihei's older brother.

Cody Amadan: shapeshifting coyote sorcerer. He's a little crazy, but a little crazy tends to be healthy when it comes to sorcery, which he loves. Has a rather complicated innate ability and is percieved by many necromancers to be extremely haunted.

Trixie Lake: Shapeshifting fox, pyromancy alchemist. She makes fireworks for a living.

Alma Colinas: Unburdened shapeshifter Raven, Windward Wizard and pirate. She's many things at once, and is kind of all over the place, but manages to make chaos work to her benefit.

Reese Winters: Shapeshifter Wolverine. Hasn't done much with his innate magic, tends toward being a hermit.

Reo Radye: Current prince of dragons and sole heir to the Radye throne. inherited hydromancy to pair with his family's planet-spanning geomancy abilities. Also known as Turq

Tera Radye: Current queen of dragons, getting on in years. Inherited the same pair of techniques as their patriarch and first king, Rune: pyromancy and planetwide geomancy. Also known as Rouge

Rune Radye: First king of dragons, known for raising mountains out of the sea. Widely regarded as the most powerful magician of all time.

Eddas Radye: Chronomancer who ruled some successions after Rune. Aged the mountains such that their reign looked millenia longer than it was.

Lucas Holt: Prince consort to Reo and Doggz's boyfriend, sociologist. Has no drip or style whatsoever. Worlds most desirable failgirl i guess. Non-magician.

Jamie ********: Reality manipulator fox who was once a student of the Goddess' helper. He lives alone in his home now, perfecting a combination of reality and spatial manipulation.

Klara Samson: Luxomancer Cat who knows both Diggz and Jamie. She has come to wonder how one guy could become such different people.

Brief laydown of all your oc's please.

I have too many ocs but i sure can try listing all the relevant ones

[christmichaelofnebadon]

As you enlarge thine meanings and ennoble thine character .. so shall ye advance unto the new status of the faithful ones of Urantia.

Unless ye advance in these ways of truest authority in the Father .. ye shall not knoweth the peace that maketh light unto thine heart.

My children of Urantia .. I adjure you to lighten thy load by the presence of thine concentrations .. unburden thine intellect by the obedience of thine finer character nature .. findeth thine constancy by your decisionary will .. let thine cooperative tendencies mature thine Substance unto Light.

Ever shall I guide you to suffer not thy heart to lead thee from the eternal values and the everlasting priorities of turning godward. Permit thine nature personal to touch upon the luminous virtues of the unchanging glory of God .. open thy voice to speak truthfully the pronouncements of reality .. suffer not thy mind to harken unto blasphemies .. and open thy soul to the advancements of divine affections.

Be thou of the Stillness which envelops all living creatures .. for I sayeth, be still in thy Spirit Identity as ye listen to the utterings of the Silent One.

Allow thyself to growth upwards in soul proceedings.. in the Vesture of Immortality .. and by the very Voice of Understanding. I maketh thee unto divinity alchemists who throb to rejoice in the law of eternity .. and who conceive not in mind those ephemeral mischiefs which bring about delays and diversions from the purity of the avenues of ascendancy.

Michael Of Nebadon

[redstringraven]

I’ll go there with You

here it is, dudes! my fic for this year’s @fmabigbangs!! an absolutely massive shout out to @humming-fly for doing the artwork that comes with this fic!! you can find it RIGHT HERE.

I’ll go there with You rating: T+ (violence, language, brief instances of gore, mentions of death)

Greed stuck to the front of the pack with Ed. Guess it was easier to act like you were doing any actual leading up there. Dolcetto stuck as close to the back as possible, and the buffoons occupied the space between. Dol didn’t want to walk anywhere close to the brat. He’d had enough of the glances with a tell-tale sadness; the last thing he wanted was any form of goddamn pity–and especially from him.

None of this was helped by dogs tethered to his own soul. They were restless. Just as wary of this new company–unnerved by the unspoken barriers now wedged between them and the beacon of safety they’d come to know. Greed would look over his shoulder… strike up conversation with Heinkel and Darius with what appeared to be genuine interest. The homunculus hadn’t looked him in the eye once since they’d found each other again. Not even for a second.

Guess that was easier, too. Where he was a prototype of a super soldier–a barely passing grade on some asshole’s science fair presentation–those two were the perfected result. Rather than being a tangled mess of consciousness, their animal splices had likely melded to them without friction. Puzzle pieces; snapped together. The way they spoke, walked… never flinched away from a hand. They were new and unburdened, by their experiences with the alchemists or by history. They weren’t walking reminders of something lost.

continue reading on Ao3

[anthonybrxdgerton]

I don’t remember if Kelley’s letter was in the book at all, but this is what I managed to read so far:

My dear, ___ My friend, it has been many years since we last ___ but I have ___ to unburden my ___ to you. I'm _____ and troubled and I must tell you of a book, a strange and mysterious book that spoke - screaming ______, screaming a terrible truth that _________ weak to face ________.

______ words it screamed into my very soul - it begins with absence and desire, it begins with blood and fear, it begins with a discovery of witches...

Ensconced in Rudolf's court as long, as I _____________ and continued to gratefully __________ patronage. I had the fire (?) ____________ to ___ my but _________ and investigations into all _______________ I have a gift (?) _____________ all ______________ dear friend but nothing________ me  for when I first laid eyes on this book from the moment I saw it, I felt it was speaking - screaming screaming every day to me and me alone, begging to help it be understood. I was growing ___ close to my desire of discovering the book's secrets. When a most unusual partnership arrived in the Kingdom of Bohemia _____ and ___________ a witch of the most _________ were determined to  steal the book for their evil purposes.

The book's voice rang piercengly in the head. I could only repeat over and over once again - It begins with absence and desire, it begins with blood and fear, it begins with a discovery of witches. My _____ to protect the book and keep it in my possesion were futile but my ______ this is where I ________ you with my life. I tore three pages from the book to try and save its secrets. I saved it. I saved it from their evil. Knowing with my very soul that the book told of our origins. I resolved (?) _____________________

Writings by Edward Kelley

Writings from English alchemist Edward Kelley while he was imprisoned. Surviving writings donated from the _____ Library. These are ____ and rare examples that have survived and been preserved. Kelley claimed great alchemichal skill and the ability to communicate with angels.

and I couldn’t decipher the third page AT ALL. Anyone know what the rest says?

[newsiegirlscout]

An Alchemist Thing

Whoo! At last, the fanfiction I’ve been planning for weeks has touched a keyboard just in time for the premiere! 

I tried to write seriously.

I tried.

Trial Zero: Lunaris Carcerem 

The stars glowed in the silent night sky overhead, the full moon’s rays cutting through the darkness and casting a single shaft of light across cell block A-113. The young prisoner’s chest rose and fell softly, and as Cassandra stretched and patrolled the block, she was mildly surprised to see the once-alchemist asleep more peacefully than he’d been in any of the other nights in the last tide she’d had to take the shift. 

Then, she stopped in her boots, mid-quarter turn. 

His hair glowed with a soft but blindingly snowy white shine, and in the fields, she could just barely make out the outlines of the rocks ebbing and flowing across the Old Corona countryside like a stormy tide. Watchful luminescent eyes sparked fearfully in the opposite corner of the cell, little paws bounding lightly to the door of the entrance upon seeing Cassandra, a silent plead to awaken 24601.

She blinked, and 

The cell block was as quiet as it had ever been, the rocks as still as they had ever been, the young boy’s ruffled locks perhaps overgrown but still the same raven-black and cerulean- streaked as ever. The moon’s full effulgence had since moved on. The boy’s breath hitched in his throat and the tearstreaks running down his cheeks began to fade. 

It must have been nothing more than a trick of the light.

Cassandra walked away.

Trial One: Lunares Stratera

“And then, the Earl of Weselton tossed the purloined purse--and the time-turner, if you recall--to his accomplice, Captain Clovis. Flynnigan Ryder, with a millisecond to act,” said Varian, casting a hefted coin purse into the air and lightly stepping over stacks of books to swing over his desk with an air of practiced grace, papers fluttering to the ground as he landed, “lept before Captain Clovis, flung his arm out in a single stroke to block him, and caught the time-turner’s purse on the tip of his sword afore it landed the arc.” The enthusiastic teenager accentuated the story by indeed catching the loops of the purse on a wooden sword he’d drawn just as seamlessly as the rest, his back foot poised against a shelf of beakers that clattered at his touch but didn’t break. 

Flynn and Lance themselves whistled appreciatively as Varian’s face flushed a cherry-blossom pink and he laughed softly, lowering his sword. 

“Hey, now!” applauded Lance, running a finger along the chalk-dust landscape of the fictional kingdom’s Aureole dancing across the walls, “Sounds like these books are still just as awesome as we remember, eh, buddy?”

Flynn chuckled, sitting on the edge of the desk with his eyes sparkling in boyish delight. “Even better, I’d say. Almost as awesome as us, eh? Hey, kid, do the Ryder of Seas thing again!”

Varian giggled, resketching the dragons arcing over the Forest of Fallen Stars and shaking the chalk dust off his gloves. 

“What, the--” he said, clearing his voice and standing straighter, “I stand for the call of adventure, the tide and the windswept of skies, for my heart is the heart of a Ryder, and the call of adventure is nigh!” 

The last line echoed in chorus by Lance and Flynn, the two friends cheered with unburdened excitement. Flynn laughed animatedly, swinging his boots with glee. Varian crossed back to tap the loose papers against his desk and giggled with a light smile. 

“So, any reason you needed to ask me about Flynnigan Ryder and the Labyrinthine Destiny, or are you two just hiding from the castle?”

“Wh-what? You know, Goggles, I am astonished that you’d think such a thing.” retorted Flynn confidently, a playful smile dancing at his eyes.

“I could have lent you the book.”

“Aww, but you do them so well!” trailed Flynn, gesturing to the laboratory set up as a scenic (if imaginative) replica of Aureole’s kingdom, “Besides, Lance is illiterate.”

Lance cuffed his friend’s shoulder. “Remarkably so, Eugene here is also illiterate wherever a rulebook is concerned. And also when Rapunzel is negotiating trade agreements with Neserdnia in the royal court, and the king isn’t feeling so friendly.”

Flynn stretched and nabbed one of the loose papers off the desk, highlighted with Varian’s trademark looping scrawls and singed edges. “So, we thought we’d come see what we could do, catch up on Aureole, lend our immense talent and wit to...asphodellic dichloridiafluoramech?”

The alchemist’s attention sparked. “Ooh, I could use a hand on that one.”

“Like finding a catchier name?” Lance suggested, leaning over, “Something that’s not so long, but maybe more memorable….like Strongbowlium.”

Varian, crouched by the lower shelves to hold a beaker to the light, shook his head. “Em, I’ll take that under advisement.” he said, grinning sheepishly, “But if you could, ah, hand me that phosphorus selenide solution up there? It’s the purple one, second from the left.”

Flynn leaned over Lance’s shoulder, causing him to jostle the bookcase. “Ohhh, so that’s what that one is. See, I was hoping it’d taste like, whatsit,”, he said, snapping his fingers, “Wisteria,  in that cake, but it just--”

Varian stood up sharply, knocking his head against the top of the lower shelves. 

“Exploded.” he finished, lightly stepping up and taking the flask from Lance’s hand and tucking a middle-shelf beaker under his arm, “Surprisingly common with unknown reactants.” 

The top shelf was positioned at a near forty-five degree angle, but if Varian noticed, he didn’t pay it much mind. The curious thing, Flynn noted as his young friend continued to talk happily with Lance, was perhaps the vials themselves.

“Annnnd….there! One trial of strong-shelled hyperreactive Strongbowlium complete!” remarked the alchemist, tossing the ball experimentally. 

Flynn stretched his legs, tired in spite of himself. “Hey, kid, one question…” he said, gesturing to the vials the moonlight shone across, “How’dja get these to stay standing, with, y’know, the minor detail of gravity in the way?”

Varian grinned, clearly amused, and standing on his toes, lifted his hand to the edge of the shelf, standing it straight once more. “Ah, I don’t really know. Not everything that should fall does, which is lucky, I guess, or you’d never be able to walk anywhere in here. Must be an alchemist thing, I guess.”

Flynn shrugged and ruffled through the remaining files.

“Hey, good a reason as any. Looks like the next on the list is….ooh, is this one like slime?”

And the moon’s rays passed on.

***********************************************************************************************************

Trial Two: Lunares Praesidium

“Wither, and decay,

End this destiny,

Break these earthly chains,

And set the spirit free,

The spirit free.”

Rapunzel sang in the still glow of the night, a deep and infinite obsidian running through her hair and pooling in her eyes like black waters. The incantation sang through Varian’s bones with an ethereal afterecho,  and before his eyes, the amber he’d tried to long to crack was melting. Quirin was, at long last, free. 

But Rapunzel was not.

It was a sensation more than her song, more than her light or more than the shiver colder than the frosts of Old Corona intertwined in the melody, but he could feel it nonetheless; how the incantation was threaded within her magic, held her as strong and as tight as a siren’s lullaby. The thought hit him on the peripheral of his senses, calling like a frog from the bottom of a well--the water--but it vaporized to naught but steam once it hit her, almost exactly as he’d been expecting.

“You didn’t give up on me, I won’t give up on you.” he said resolutely, pressing his hands to his chest. 

-the incantation’s melody fluttered like the feathers of a dark angel, filled everything and nothing and anything in between, pushed at the essence of reality, pressed in his heart and flowed through his veins--

He grasped Rapunzel’s shoulders at once with a hold stronger than ever, and his gloves melted off his hands like water. And all as his promise had been pledged, the light returned to Rapunzel’s eyes, the gold flowing back through her hair. 

Everything was alright. The Hurt Incantation had been silenced. 

His hands still felt the light prickling of a force that could never be harnessed, only quieted.

*****************************************************

Trial Three: Lunares Somnia

It was difficult to be heard, at times.

Luckily, Varian knew exactly the princess who would always listen.

The first time or two had come as a misstep; he'd fallen asleep at his desk, the graphtic's key held tight in his hands, when the lantern, cast from his hands, floated softly in a dream's illusion of reality over the bright Corona castle's skies. The girl with golden hair looked up with delight, then alarm as it sailed into the darkening thunderclouds, until the whole of the Corona she knew disappeared to a wasteland, her sunny hair the only thing still shining. 

It was then that he'd known it was not his dream he acted on, but Rapunzel's. 

Once, he only acted as an unconscious bearer, knowing enough to express himself to the ally but not enough to express anything besides a raw, unfiltered message speaking almost directly from an essence that felt of, but not entirely, himself. 

Come out, Rapunzel. Face your destiny. 

He had awoken with a start, knowing, somehow, that she had too.

But as the time had passed, and he had grown to think it was only a too-close coincidence, he found himself once more standing in a plane between reality and illusion. The essence was frigid, like a midnight's breeze, but he felt nothing. 

And there she stood. 

Though only her blurred outline was seen, something sparked his instincts almost immediately that it was her, though he dared not step forth. 

"Varian?" she said softly, words echoing and swirling through the aether like butterflies.

"Rapunzel." he responded to the stillness, and then, with a swelling like the tide, "This is not the last, Rapunzel. There is more you have yet to see."

A thickness in his throat as if he were a messenger for something greater, "There is more you may never see nor understand."

"What have you come for?" she asked, though she said not a word. 

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, his heart pounded with energy. The grass blades around him rippled like a stone cast into still water.

"I know not." he said softly, the touch at his wrists fading, his essence feeling much more like his own once more, "What may pass must be beyond either of us." 

And he awoke, his heart beating harder than ever.

*****************************************************

Trial Four: Vi Lunares

"Cassandra!" said Rapunzel, her hair loose behind her, and her eyes still blazing with a queen's courage, "You may have fallen, but I will do my best to lift you back to greater things. I know this isn't your true destiny, and..I think you know it isn't yours, either."

Cassandra's gaze softened for only a moment. 

"I think you've gotten enough in your own destiny without mine, Rapunzel." Cassandra snapped, outstretching a hand. Black rocks spiked along the path, positioned exactly in the right trajectory to pin Varian and Flynn against the cliff's face….

"No." Varian said quietly, an impulse more sudden than a snap compelling him to throw out his hand, splaying his fingers as Cassandra did and throwing his arm hard against Flynn's waist as an afterthought. 

The streak in his hair glowed an ethereal alabaster for no more than a few seconds, and the rocks stopped in their tracks, the strap of Rapunzel's satchel caught on the closest.

Flynn watched the streak in Varian's hair return to the same blue it ever was. With no more than a beat ("Hey, Blondie's got magic hair, Cass 's a moonstone guardian, I'm a prince, and the frog adopted a dragon. I'm done, not another one before teatime."), he patted Varian on the back.

"Thanks, kid." 

And, drawing their swords, Rapunzel's army strode forth into the battle.

*****************************************************

Trial Five: Solar Eclipse

No more than three years older, but having aged far more in the same time since he'd met Rapunzel, Varian straightened his tie and held his hand softly to the glowingly jubilant, happily married Queen Rapunzel of Corona.

"May I have this dance?" he asked with a gentle smile as she placed her hand in his.

"Of course!" she said, her cheeks aflush with her love and a light grin playing at her sun-freckled face for her friend, "Awww, Varian, I didn't know you were one of Eugene's groomsmen."

The alchemist chuckled lightly, twirling her on her heels. "Well, besides being his best friend and all….I did bring the cookies, so he really had no choice but to accept."

"Varian…." she said with a playful sternness. 

"What? They were good!" said the newly (and thankfully, entirely unreluctantly) crowned King Eugene, twirling a peppermint-dusted Celtic Knot in his fingers, "I mean, really good. Have you tasted these, Blondie?"

Varian laughed and broke from Rapunzel to nudge Eugene. "I mean, yeah, but aren't we forgetting the entire, oh…", he said with a teasing flippant hand wave, "Saving Corona thing? And being your best friend?"

"Lance is my best friend."

"And being your best friend?"

Eugene laughed, ruffling Varian's hair. "Ha, can't keep anything from a smart kid like you, Goggles. Speaking of which…"

Varian sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I know. Decided lack of lab safety protocol in the royal wedding dress code, wouldn't you say?"

"Let's just hope nothing totally crazy happens from here to tomorrow, then." quipped Eugene as the stars began to dapple the evening sky.

The seventeen-year-old rolled his eyes. "Last I heard, crazy was what Rapunzel did best."

"Hey!" tittered Rapunzel as Varian grinned, "That may be true, but you two are just as much so."

"Is that so?" replied the boy as the kingdom dance's tune began, Eugene stepped nimbly to his partner, and Rapunzel rested her hands on her friend's shoulders.

"Yeah, I'd say you're pretty good at having fun too." she retorted with a smile, sticking out her tongue in a very ladylike manner as Varian chuckled and nodded with a reluctant agreement. 

She stepped lightly on her toes, shifting to the elegant Box Left and Forward Progressive as Varian followed in the early light of the tune. 

"I've seen the girl who has crossed mountains,

And showed all the stars how to shine" she sang gently with the lyres, beaming like a brilliant sunrise. 

"I will fol-low her through field and glen,

And I wish that she'll be mine." Varian finished melodically with her, the same smile on his face. Rapunzel skipped happily, pirouetting so jubilantly in the waltz that if her hair could still shine, it would have been blinding.

"And we will cross the seven seas,

We'll dance on wings of gold,

For our light could glow, my dear,

And magic will never burn old!"

At this last step, Rapunzel dipped Varian back in her arms, both of them carrying the last note high and strong. The parting crowd around them halted in silence, and in the stillness, they realized the cerulean streak in Varian’s hair was glowing with what could only be called magic. 

Standing to his full height, Varian glanced at Rapunzel and they both shrugged.

“Must be an alchemist thing, I guess.”

[gloamingdawn]

October Writing Challenge Day 30: Temptation/Hex

The vial had sat upright in her desk for the better part of a year and a half. Sure, it’d been bought from a back alley alchemist, but they wouldn’t lie would they? Of course they would to make a sale, but it was risky even if it weren’t expired. A potion of forgetting. Those took impressive alchemy blended with magic, and it hadn’t come cheaply. 

It was always “the back-up plan”. The “I can’t live like this anymore but don’t want to hurt people by removing myself” plan. A nuclear option. People could be re-met. Bonds could be re-formed. She wouldn’t be dead, just different. 

A new start in a pretty glass vial. The cleanest slate. 

There’d be side effects, that was the paradox of total amnesia. Would she remember how to read? Cook? Eat? Speak any other languages? It was a risk. 

The viscous gray fluid inside warmed as she rolled the bottle between her palms, shifting her weight. She could just do it. Pop the cork and drink it down, make a new start right here, right now. One unburdened by the pain of a too long life full of loss and heartbreak. 

Her thumb toggled the cork out as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Was it worth it? It felt like it. 

It looked awful as she upended the vial over the sink, the potion dripping into the drain in thick, sluggish ropes. 

What it promised was a lie.  

What it promised she didn’t need. 

She could figure out a new normal without it.

@turning-through-the-never @kharrisdawndancer @iestyn-crowe @belillinafireseeker / @lianellie-quinne @saltsparkle / @gloamingdawn @lylianwyatte @selysona-wra @darbiebot @andijelly @cupcakes-blood @twosidedsana @eliceynbirch @deadlypursuits @luminashdawnwing @raxwel-blythe / @amorthonblackwood @hmratking @thornbolts@brillraven@ wynter-b @lovingthewildlife @veleanthe @theconstructsworld @waroftwowolves @taliandrahflamesurge / @gam3rj3nn @embraelle @kjblynx @escapism-velocity @rayne-storm @stonestridernerd @centoridellanir @valarin-sunstorm @cyrolar-riverblade @sylrin-featherblade @altherei @trisandrah @riverblade @raevan-muns-supercut @safrona-shadowsun

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vry disappointed in all y’all not kicking my ass about uploading but luckily I did it anyway.

2. What Sharp Teeth

Anora wasn’t much better in the morning. If anything she was worse and running a fever. Relora cooed and clucked over her on the patio while Spayar saddled his horse. Anora was all bundled up in what was basically a blanket with arms but was still shivering like she was cold, her curly hair pinned back away from her face with silver hairpins in the shape of cats made by their father. Once his mare was ready he led her out of the shed. Relora frowned slightly even as she picked her daughter up and went over to Spayar. “She’s gonna be fine, addim,” Spayar assured her.

“You sure you still friends with this healer?” Relora asked nervously.

“Addim, you know her. It’s Mali.”

Relora looked confused, “She’s a healer? Since when?”

“It isn’t very common knowledge. She’ll make sure Anora gets fixed up.”

“Alright. You sure I shouldn’t come?” she asked even as Spayar pulled himself onto his mare’s high saddle.

“I know you both well enough to know that would be a bad idea,” Spayar apologized. “I’ll bring her back probably before it’s dark,” and he leaned down to take his baby sister from his mother. Relora still hesitated before transferring her to Spayar’s capable arms. With a grunt he put Anora in front of him on the saddle.

“Mama?” Anora asked when she realized through her fever she wasn’t with her anymore.

Relora went up to her on the saddle, the scars on her forehead twisted as her brow furrowed and she put her hand on Anora’s leg. “It’s okay cha-trime, your brother is taking you to go feel better.”

“Oh,” she said tiredly. She looked up at Spayar tiredly. “Oh.”

“Just go,” Relora said worriedly. She stepped back and wrung her hands.

“Mali will have her good as before in no time,” Spayar promised his mother and gently tugged on the reins to get his mare to turn. He heard Relora speaking Dirnine but didn’t catch the exact words as his mare walked out the gate. His mother closed it up behind him.

The ride from Bellringer to D’linger wasn’t exactly a short one and Spayar was grateful that before they’d even made it out of the neighborhood Anora had passed out leaning against his chest. They skirted the edge of Smoker’s Den, cutting through part of Tradesmen before finally entering D’linger with its nearly orderly streets with several creating clear sight lines to the Academy at the center of the neighborhood. Spayar got on one of the main avenues and followed it towards the Academy while carefully reading the building corners for the street he was looking for. When he found it he took it down a side street to another side street to a plain door of a small house. It wasn’t much to look at really.

With some effort Spayar got off his horse without dropping his sister and pulled her off. She woke as he gently put her on the ground. “Hey,” he said, squatting in front of her, “I need you to just stand here for a minute while I tie my horse up. Can you do that?” he asked her gently.

“Uh-huh,” and she sniffed looking like she was about to pass out at any moment again. Better than vomiting.

Spayar quickly pulled his mare down to the side of the house where a wooden beam had been installed for just such a thing. He tied the reins up around the cleat provided and went back to Anora. She reached up to be carried and he wasn’t so heartless to deny her. He scooped her up into his arms and walked the few steps from there to the front door where he knocked, rather loudly. He waited impatiently. He knocked again, practically bruising his knuckles.

The door was ripped open. “I heard you the first time! What?” demanded the annoyed healer.

“Hi, Mali,” he said cheerfully and used one of Anora’s sort of limp hands to wave at her. Mali was a good head shorter than him but you’d never know it because of how big her personality was. She was round all around with cunning brown eyes set in a soft face with cheeks that dimpled when she smiled. Her curly brown hair was pulled back into a horse tail high up on her head so you could see her slightly pointy D’linger ears. All of that was eclipsed by the fact that she was a healer, rare in itself, and was a powerful one at that. She didn’t even come from a healing family either.

“Oh, well look who it is,” Mali started out mean then glanced over him and to Anora. “Is that your sister?” her voice dropped a bit in concern.

“Yeah, she needs some help. She’s got a fever and is throwing up and in general is being gross and sick.”

Mali did look concerned before squinting at him suspiciously. “Is this your excuse to come see me?”

“What? She was sick when I got home. Who do you take me for?”

“Spayar Hillsman, d'aelar of Vondugard Le'Acard. I expect the worst, as I should,” she said nearly exasperated with him already and they’d said a handful of sentences to each other.

He made a fart noise with his mouth at her. “I wouldn’t use my baby sister as an excuse to come bother you. I’d just come bother you. Now you gonna help an old friend out or leave us out here?”

Mali made a face. “Alright, come in,” and she let him into the house. “Bring her into the ward,” she said and beckoned. He followed after her dutifully. “When did you get home?”

“Yesterday,” Spayar said. The ward was a large room that took up most of the building with beds arranged around it in a ring and were separated by wooden privacy screens.

“And Vondugard isn’t here glued to your side? I’m impressed.”

“He did his best but I excused myself. At least for a day,” Spayar said and set Anora down on the cot Mali indicated.

Mali turned away from him and put her hands on Anora’s face and throat. Her hands started to glow a soft, dark, light and Spayar could see the veins stand out against Mali’s skin like dangerous roots on her pale skin. “She’s just got the flu,” she said after a few seconds. “Bit of rest, a tonic, and a minor will be all she needs. What’s she aligned?”

“Solar,” Spayar said, arms crossed watching his sister with a serious face drawn.

“Good, so am I.”

“That’s why I bring her to you. The other healer I know is Lunar.”

Mali scoffed, “Lunar healers are half rate,” she moved away from Anora and went to a tall, circular, shelf in the middle of the room. She selected an earthen jug off one shelf, filled a shot glass, and put it back. She brought it back to Anora and woke her long enough to drink it. “If you feel sick again, dear,” she cooed gently to Anora as she pulled a bucket out from under the cot.

“Okay,” Anora said weakly, her face a bit green. Mali just gently stroked her hair, pushing her hair off her high forehead with a soft smile on her face.

“Try to get some rest. Your brother and I are going to talk.” Anora made a noise like she understood, looked at Spayar and then promptly passed out.

“She’ll be fine?” Spayar asked.

“By sunset she’ll be right as a strawberry,” Mali assured him.

“Good,” Spayar uncrossed his arms and followed Mali into her office which was also the home’s kitchen. There was a table there and Mali sat at it, pushed aside her papers, and made room for Spayar.

“So how was your time?”

“I ended up the apostle of an alchemist so you can imagine it was… something,” he huffed as he dropped himself into the chair opposite her.

“Yikes. Was bad?”

“Well I don’t have a gag reflex to vomiting so you tell me,” Spayar said.

“You had a gag reflex? That’s news to me,” Mali gave him a side eye and he had enough humility that he couldn’t meet her eyes at that and looked away awkwardly for a few moments.

“What’s happened while I was gone.”

“You got my updates didn’t you?”

“I did but it’s different hearing them in person.”

“Well… it’s all bad, more or less. Too much snow last year along the Spine, flooded the Meltong this spring, destroyed the Mire, part of Downriver, and Tradesman too.”

“Tradesman too? There’s levies there.”

“Not enough,” Mali shrugged. “They were so worried about Swan Island making it through the rising water.  All geomancers were sent there to hold back the flood and flash floods that they couldn’t easily fortify the rest of the city.”

“That’s horse shit. Verilia just didn’t.”

Mali sucked her teeth but didn’t disagree with him. “Either way, the Mire’s still in shambles, Downriver is a bit better but hardly.”

“You been down there?” Spayar rocked the chair back a bit onto two legs. Mali gave him a withering look but he didn’t stop.

She waited to see if her glare would affect him. When it was clear it wouldn’t she gave him a slight roll of her eyes. “Shortly. I offered some healing to those who needed it but you know how people feel about healers. If they aren’t temple clerics they don’t want to even give you the time or are sure you’ll screw them up.”

“Hardly,” Spayar rocked a bit in the chair.

“Also destroyed a lot of fields around the city. Acres and and acres of farmland got covered in mud and detritus. It’s Asurala and they’re still trying to uncover some of the fields.”

“Sounds like a bureaucracy issue,” Spayar said mildly.

“It is. Verilia is worried. Teldin is in the city.”

Spayar stopped rocking and put the chair back down on all fours, “I heard. How long?”

“He’s been here since Soam,” Mali frowned. Soam was the third month of the year, early spring when crops were planted around Assarus.

“I wasn’t aware of this,” Spayar said with a serious slant of his mouth. “Any idea what he’s doing here?”

“Besides making Vondugard nervous? No idea. He could be keeping an eye on Tallasala and Obi. You know he thinks Vondugard is still a child.”

“He is,” Spayar said but hardly felt it.

“For now. It’s Neyjarra soon-

“Don’t remind me,” Spayar snapped. She just raised her hands at him in a placating manner. “Tallasala and Obi are both here? What about Dellin?”

“Haven’t heard from him in a long time. You’d have to ask someone else.”

Spayar didn’t like that answer but knew there was nothing for it. He’d have to ask Von about it. He’d know more than Mali for sure. “What else? The fields?”

“You’ll see soon enough I’m sure. People are starting to grab up all the food they can get and stockpiling. Theres going to be a shortage this year, maybe next year too. As it is you can’t easily get raw meat anywhere. It’s all being scooped up by others to make into things they can sell. If Verilia doesn’t do something people are going to start charging for raw.”

“Well that’s sort of illegal so I doubt it.”

“Depending on the state of the city I don’t think it will matter,” Mali said seriously.

Spayar frowned deeply at that. This was more than a little troubling. The last time there had been a food shortage in the capital had been seventy-five years ago. It hadn’t gotten to the point of charging to raw goods but that just highlighted how bad this was. “Vondugard says his mother is coming here.”

“She is? That’s probably not for the best. Teldin, Tallasala, and Verilia all under one roof? Sounds like a disaster” Mali said.

Spayar puffed his lips a little in annoyance and rubbed the side of his neck. “It’s a bother,” he muttered in agreement.

“You’re telling me. Everything is getting scarcer in Assarus in the last month and a half. Everyone is scared there’s going to be a shortage and we’ll not have enough food come Lun and Etirin.”

“Just import it? The rest of the country can’t be that bad off the other provinces can’t send food?”

“Way I hear it it’s been a bad year all over,” Mali said. “In the west there’s been heavy summer storms off the Shard.  In the north no rain at all.  East is fine but they hardly have any farm land themselves. South is just as worthless.”

“Yellow Hills area?”

“No idea. You’d have to ask. I just have general ideas. You know I hate getting specific with this stuff,” she scowled. “I’m not one of your birds, I’m a healer.”

“You’re right, I guess,” Spayar got up from the chair. “Speaking of I really need to go check in on them.”

“Figured. Was waiting for you to get out so I can get some work done.”

He grinned at her, “Don’t act like you weren’t happy to see me.”

“I missed you like a tooth ache,” she said and got up to show him out.

“Ah then that is quite serious,” he teased her and headed for the front door. She opened it for him. He paused a moment before leaning down to give her a hug, which he knew she only accepted because he hadn’t asked. “I am glad to see you again. I’ll come get Anora before it gets dark.”

“You better,” she said and finally let him go. He gave her one more squeeze before standing back up and going to untether his horse from the cleat. He waved after he mounted up and clicked to his mare to head towards South Garden nearly on the other side of town. At least he could go a bit faster without Anora sleeping in front of him.

—

Spayar was sitting on the lip of a fountain with a bag of seed feeding the birds for nearly a bell before someone came up and sat down next to him. They had a cup of cider in hand and wore patched clothing of someone who spent too much time wandering the streets and not enough time actually taking care of themselves. “Hey Bruta,” he said and leaned back from what he was doing.

“Didn’t think it was really you. Figured you were still serving time,�� Bruta said.

“Just got back. Heard it’s bad down current.”

Bruta grimaced. “You could say. Mirebugs are hardy and the Downies are just happy to be in a better situation than them.”

“How much damage?”

“Nothing a good Asuras won’t help,” Bruta sucked his teeth and scratched at his stubble. “If you just got back you prolly ain’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“The princes and princesses spoiling for a Conflict.”

Spayar didn’t show the way his heart jumped. He swallowed slowly to keep his cool. That was the last thing he wanted right now. That was the last thing anyone needed right now. After what Mali had told him a Feytol Conflict would be devastating to the entire country, let alone the capital. “Since when aren’t they?” he played it off.

Bruta shrugged. “Just what’s being said around. I know you like to hear the worries.”

“Because they’re usually true.”

“Yeah. Well, there you go.”

“Hear anything else good?”

“Notin’ timely I’m afraid,” Bruta said with a groan as he stretched a little. “Notin’ you prolly ain’t going to hear later either,” he scoffed.

“Yes but repetition beats it into my thick skull,” Spayar said and that made Bruta snort.

He shrugged. “Bread’s two bronze now. Beginning of the summer it was one, last summer it was a half.”

“Meat?”

“I don’t bother tryin’ to get it.  The lady does but I know a fool’s errand when I see it.”

“I see. See you when you have anything else, Bruta.”

“Later little spider,” Bruta teased him and got up, leaving him.

Spayar threw out a handful more seed and the sparrows and pigeons pecked at it. He didn’t have to wait long for a lanky pick pocket to stand to the side and throw part of a potato skin into the mix. That got the birds going. “Was that really necessary, Jan?” he asked them.

“I like watching them fight,” Jan said, looking down at the birds. They turned their glass blue eyes at Spayar, eyes shiny being on something. If Spayar remembered correctly they liked red lace. Spayar had never gotten into that. “Where you been?” they spoke in monotone.

“I was serving time.”

“Missed you.”

Spayar’s lips twitched. “I doubt that.”

“Not as fun when d’aelar isn’t around.”

“So you’re saying nothing fun happened when I wasn’t around?”

“Flood,” Jan looked back at the birds. “Bugs and Downers rioted like the birds. Arm was called. Was bad.”

“How bad?”

“Half the Mire drowned, half of that got torched. There was an exodus.”

“How’s the hunt?”

Jan shrugged. “Good enough. New Lord takes less than-

“Wait, hold on. There’s a new Lord? Since when? What happened to Jackertty?” It didn’t bode well for the minor thieves and cutpurses of Assarus that there was a new ‘Thief Lord’. It was a paper title of course. The guards were vicious tracking down thieves and there was hardly a need to steal. Only the truly poor did.

“Last winter,” Jan’s voice hadn’t changed in tone the entire time. They didn’t even react to Spayar’s start. “Cross is Lord now.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Yeah. They’re from the west I heard.” They looked at Spayar with their glassy eyes. “They aren’t like Jackertty.” Which double sucked. Jackertty knew what he was. He was a minnow in a small pond in the garden with a dozen house cats. The last thing the city needed right now was some westerner from the mountains coming in and making a mess of things.

“You like ‘em?”

Jan shrugged. “What’s not to like.” That was it. They didn’t even say goodbye and Spayar watched them slowly wander away. Jan was such an infuriating person to talk to.  Not even sometimes. They were frustrating always. The two years he’d been serving time hadn’t changed Jan for the better or changed Spayar’s feelings on them either.

Over the next few bells four more of his birds came by, chit chatted but didn’t give him much more information than what he’d already heard from Bruta, Jan, and Mali. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he was hopeful for something more than that. He supposed they didn’t know he was here yet and weren’t actually looking for information for him the way he liked it.

Closer to sunset, when he’d nearly run out of seed and even the actual birds were getting bored of him, a beggar came up to him and sat down heavily against the side of the fountain. Spayar gave them a more than cursory look. They were older and heavily bearded holding a earthen bowl with a few coppers in it and a single bronze atris. He didn’t recognize them right away. “I don’t have any coin on me-

“Don’t be a brat,” a woman’s voice said and looked at him from under a wig. The eyes he recognized.

“Channa?” he asked.

“Yeah, and?”

“Why are you dressed as a… male beggar?”

“Teldin’s paranoid, doesn’t like permanent servants coming and going,” she said. Channa was one of Spayar’s few actual contacts inside the Summer Palace. It was usually impossible for an outside agent to get into the web of spies of Aklin, the spy master. Unless you were part of the larger web or affiliated with a province the spies wanted nothing to do with you. Channa was one who gave Spayar any time at all.

“I would have waited,” he said.

“Maybe but I doubt your prince can,” she said, not looking at him now. She looked straight ahead and her fake beard was such you couldn’t see her mouth move other than the bob of her jaw now and then.

The hair stood up on the back of Spayar’s neck. “What’s wrong?”

“Teldin’s in the Palace, you haven’t heard?”

“I have.”

“Then you know it isn’t good.”

“You wouldn’t have come all the way out to South Garden if you didn’t have something better than that, Channa.”

She wordlessly held her bowl out to him. He gave her a disdainful look. She jingled the coins in it. “I can’t believe I’m being hit up for money by a royal servant,” he grumbled, took out his purse and put half a platinum into the bowl. She pulled the bowl back and tucked it under her shapeless clothing.

“When Teldin does come to the Winter Palace it’s alone, or briefly. This is neither. He’s got Yin Thorn and Sade Mandaria with him.” All of skin on Spayar’s arms prickled. “And he’s been here since Soam. It’s made Tallasala temperamental and Obi even more difficult to deal with than usual.”

Spayar rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How long has Sade been here?”

“She came with Teldin. They’ve been in the Palace for months.”

“Anything important you can tell me?”

“Teldin is pushing Tallasala’s buttons,” she said in a dangerous tone.

“What about Dellin? Anything about him?”

“He’s somewhere in the Hook last time I heard. Not sure where. He keeps to himself with that shadow of his.”

“I heard a rumor of a Feytol Conflict. How do you feel about that?”

Channa was quiet and looked up at the orange and pink sky. Around them South Garden was starting to pack up shop and close down for the night, everyone ready to go home or out to Smoker’s Den to party. “I dunno. We’ll see when Lun starts. Depends on how Assarus is. From what I’ve heard from — the castle quartermaster even the Palace is having trouble getting all the supplies they need without taking significantly from the general available food stuffs of the city. If the city starts to starve a Feytol Conflict might be the best or worst thing for it. We need a stronger Asuras.”

Spayar was frowning deeply by the time Channa had finished. “I see. I really don’t like any of that but I see your point.”

“Yeah. It isn’t good,” she agreed. “I would suggest, if you can, to get your prince out of the Palace. Teldin has been causing a scene everywhere and the last thing you want is His Highness Vondugard getting between Teldin and Tallasala should it come to blows.”

“No indeed,” Spayar said slowly. He emptied the meager rest of his seed onto the ground in front of him. “Thank you for the information. I need to go get my sick sister from the healer now. Don’t get in trouble on the way back to the Palace with the guard.”

“Easy enough,” she said but didn’t rise with him. Spayar left her sitting there and went and found his mare where she was picketed across the square. He retightened her saddle before mounting up.

As he headed back for D’linger he really took a harder looks at the shops in South Garden. He had been thinking about too much else before but now he saw there were signs on old permanent stalls declaring they were out of stock. The three butchers he passed across the city all had sold out signs displayed for the end of the day. There were fewer street vendors in general and what there was were rice stalls. Spayar frowned. When he’d left rice had been a rare luxury from across the Shard because it didn’t grow well in the Alliance. Or at least a suitable place hadn’t been found for its cultivation yet. Now it was prominent, and expensive. Half a silver for a cup of cooked rice with some meager fixings and a quarter platinum for a pound of it uncooked.

When he finally arrived in D’linger the light was still on inside Mali’s place. He knocked politely and waited for her to answer. She did and brought him inside. “How’s Anora?”

“Perfectly fine, just as I said,” Mali said smugly. She brought him over to Anora who was in the kitchen using some of Mali’s charcoal and scrap paper to draw. “Anora, Spayar’s back.”

Anora looked around at him, “De-de!” she said excitedly. Her eyes were clear, her face the normal deep brown.

“Were you good for miss Mali while I was gone?” Spayar asked and came over to give her curls a fond ruffle.

“I was. I’m not like you de-de and always get into trouble,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

Behind him Mali snorted. “Yeah but that’s my job,” Spayar said helplessly. “Cmon, let’s get home before addim loses her mind with worry.”

“Okay! Thanks for making me better miss Mali,” Anora said politely, bouncing a bit.

“Of course, dear. I’m all too happy to see a sweet girl like you better,” Mali said kindly as she saw them both out. Once outside Anora bounded over to Spayar’s horse to pet her. Mali grabbed his sleeve before he could follow. “Just make sure she gets a good night sleep and avoids direct contact with anyone sick for a day or so. I purged the sickness from her but curing a virus with magic isn’t always perfect.”

Spayar nodded seriously. “I’ll tell mama to keep her out of school a few days. I suspect she got it from there. Flue been around this year?”

“Not yet. A lot of people down current got infections of some sort from all the sediment being brought up into the streets and flooding the sewage. But it’s early yet, the rains haven’t started. I’m sure it’ll come,” she sighed.

“Okay. Thanks again Mali. Should I give you something now or later-

She punched his arm. “Don’t insult me Spayar,” she glared at him.

“I was just being nice,” he complained and rubbed his arm. Mali looked soft but she had a mean left hook.

“I don’t want your money. Have your mother send me some of her amazing pickles and we’ll call it even.”

Spayar chuckled. “Sure. Thanks again Mali.”

“Spayar, are we going to go?” Anora called. He looked back at her and she was holding onto his mare’s bridle and his horse had her half a hand or so off the ground.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said and rushed over. “Don’t do that,” he took her hands off the bridle and she dropped down to the ground. “Both she and the bridle are expensive.”

“But-

“Just get on,” and he helped her up onto the saddle before climbing up after her. They waved to Mali before Spayar turned her down the street and they headed back home.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about a sleeping sister and the streets were more empty because of the hour Spayar got his horse to go a bit faster through the streets. So, mercifully, it was quicker home than it was there this morning. Anora was glad to get down and as soon as Spayar put her on the ground she ran for the house calling for their mother. “I’m so glad I’m never having one,” Spayar told his mare who snorted into his face. “Yeah I love her but Densinn’s tongue I don’t want one,” he led her into the shed that was her home.  While he’d been out his father had ordered more food for her and had someone sweep out the little room. Probably one of his apprentices. He cleaned her up a bit with the promise of doing a better job tomorrow and made sure her troughs were full before going into the house.

Anora was in the kitchen with Relora, happily chatting away. Dinner was already starting to be brought out on the table and Calli was there waiting patiently. He did a double take at who was sitting next to her. “What are you doing here?” he asked Von, interrupting his conversation with Calli.

“Don’t be mean, Spayar,” Calli said.

Von just grinned sheepishly at him. “I did come looking for you but your mother said you were gone for the day. So I was just waiting for you,” he said and by the end his grin was a bit more playful. Spayar wanted so badly to be annoyed with him but he just couldn’t.  He sat next to Von. “I knew you’d come eventually.”

Spayar leaned around Von to talk to Calli, “How often does he come here? Is he bothering you? You know you can tell him to leave if he’s annoying you.”

Calli just giggled. “It’s fine. And he just visits sometimes. Don’t get jealous I might have seen him more than you have,” she very specifically needled him. Oh, he did not like that. He gave her a stone faced look, to which she grinned, and looked away. Relora and Anora came out of the kitchen, Relora with the rest of the dinner and Anora with a jug of slightly sweating strawberry water.

“Where are Spayar and Duren?” Relora asked.

“I did tell them dinner was going to be ready soon,” Calli said helpfully. Relora huffed and walked down the hall out to the forge while Anora jumped into her seat. “You feeling better puke girl?” Calli asked.

“I’m not a puke girl,” Anora said sourly.

“You were a puke girl last night for sure.”

“Spayar, Calli’s being mean to me!” Anora cried.

Spayar, who was serving himself hot bean salad with chilies and potatoes, stopped and looked at them both. “Calli, be nice, I guess?” he wasn’t quite sure how to act like an actual adult in this situation. “Both of you stop bickering and eat instead. Eating is a way better use of your air,” he continued and put the big spoon he’d been using into Calli’s hand.

Calli rolled her eyes and at least didn’t continue teasing Anora. “Did you send that letter you said you would?” Von asked him now that the girls were distracted with Calli telling Anora she needed to eat her vegetables.

“No. I was busy,” Spayar grimaced. “Tomorrow, when the post is open again, I’ll send it.”

“Get it in before Lomedocest.”

Spayar gave him a narrow eyed look. “Are you planning something?”

“Me? Never,” Von grinned widely at him.

Spayar squinted at him, not believing his pretty smile for a moment. “Spayar! Calli’s being mean again!” Anora yelled.

“Oi! Knock it off. Addim left for hardly a minute.”

“What’s going on in here?” like on cue Relora came back, leading two very dirty smiths behind her to go wash their hands and face.

“Calli is being mean-

“I am not,” Calli huffed.

Spayar sighed and tuned out his sister’s bickering. Von just watched with a smile on his face while politely eating what was on his plate until Spayar Sr. came in and barked at the both of them to settle down. Dinner was a much more settled affair after that.

[royal-writer]

Memories 12 - The Drows Part 1

The story arc at this point has a lot of parts, so it’s going to be cut up into sections! :3c I quite like this bit of Essie’s past, hehe.

It had to be one of the oddest symbols Essätha had ever seen. The appearance of a blade etched into the black stone, with a masquerade mask in place of a quillon and eyes shaped like crescent moons. The sword bore itself into the marking of a raven, which had what she assumed to be blood coming out of it in the shape of teardrops and stars.

Whatever it was, it was hers now. The woman had been completely oblivious to her pick-pocketing the pouch of coin off her person, and within it a nice wealth of pieces and this odd rock. It was too easy; the stupid lady had the tempting sack hanging to her hip and peeking out from beneath her jacket. All it took was a brush past and swift jerk of her dagger to rip the bag clean off as she asked the stranger where the nearest alchemist’s shop was. She’d been a clown in this place ripe for the picking.

Fanaedar, as it turned out, was filled with dreadfully awful people. The skies were nearly always dark and dreary, and even when they were not the treeline and vegetation so thick you practically lived in a forest. People hardly roamed outside their homes then, fearing the shine of the sun. Though even on the most gloomy days, you hardly saw a soul.

Essätha came to understand the oddity of the majority race that lived here over her time skulking around. At first she could have sworn them to be but body-painted elves, half-breeds, or mutated beings, Essie manage to quip a conversation out of enough people to understand they most of the people were dark elves. Drows as they were called; unequipped to handle the upper layers of the world where the sun adorned bright in their mantle on the skyline. Why they did not reside in their homelands in the underdark, no one spoke of.

The small town did not settle upon her like many others. Much of the residents were as cunning and tricky as she was, if not even more. Some of her goods came up missing and items disappeared when left unattended. It taught the Yuan-ti quickly to keep all the most important items hidden, and her bag on her at all times no matter how much it made her back ache to carry the load constantly.

Her only positive here was that those who understood what they were looking at when they saw her did not treat her better or worse than any other resident. She was, by all accounts, just as much a society outcast as the rest of them. Sneering glances cast her way were just as likely as they’d be passed to the next person passed on the walkways.

With any luck, the stolen bundle of money and this ugly thing could be sold off to make a quick bundle of cash. Then she could move on to the next town. Hitch a ride with the temptation of money and flee far before that Drow woman had people searching for her lost valuable- if that’s what the misshapen flat gem in her hands was. It was too unusual and foreign for her to be sure.

Dropping the unique artifact into a different bag filled with her personal possessions, the Yuan-ti woman dropped the stolen purse on the ground and continued quietly on. Cutting through alleyways and past houses; silently blurring in and out of shadows.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The elder man licked his cracked gray lips slowly. Beneath the wiry spectacles he wore, his startling red eyes moved from the gemstone he held to her, and back again. A hand reached up to move through the few wisps of gray hair he still had left atop his wrinkly, black spotted head.

“Where did you say you got this?” the shopkeeper asked tentatively.

“I found it, laying on the ground near the town gates.”

The fib went over the man’s side head it seemed. He nodded a few times, muttering words in a language Essie was not familiar with.

After a bit more waiting, her impatience grew until she spoke up: “What is it, then?”

“Oh, yes, well,” the man rasped in common, “It appears to be a house insignia. Must belong to a powerful and important Drow family.”

Her hopes deflated. She twirled her fingertips into the counter, a pout on her lips. So much for making a sum of money off of it.

“So I guess it’s not worth anything to you,” she sighed, reaching out for the token.

The man’s hand sharply slapped her on her scaly hand. Essätha hissed in retort; drawing back her arm.

“Aye no, but it’ll be worth plenty to it’s owner. Drow insignia’s usually have the ability to cast a single spell, and can also be used if one knows the command word to whisper a message to family members wearing the same house insignia. They’re very powerful items. I’m surprised it’s missing; it would bring dishonor on a family member to lose something so valuable. To think no one has tried scrying to find it…”

“So it’s worth a lot of money to somebody, but not you, so can I have it back now-” Essätha ventured with a heavy sigh.

“Oh absolutely not!” the Drow balked, looking at her through rounded eyes. “I’ll be keeping it safe, as a Drow, until the owner can be found.”

“Hey! I found it first, if anyone should be getting a damn reward for finding it, it should be me-”

“Aye- I won’t be takin’ no reward, there’s respect in the older houses that still prevail! You mind your manners little miss, and be on your way.”

“But but but-” Essätha whined, reaching her hands out desperately for the gem as the man grumbled to himself, tucking it behind the counter. Something about his clipped common speaking about ‘how someone could lose such a thing’ and ‘why they weren’t wearing it on a necklace’.

“Look,” the man sighed, propping his elbows up. “If you’re looking for compensation; I can offer you a room to stay for the night, or some food, or drink. But nothing else.”

Disheartened, Essie glanced down at the counter. Oh how she wished she’d went to another shop! Maybe they would have been willing to split a reward. Or at least tricked her, and sold it to her for at least a little currency.

Or turned her in, thinking her a thief for holding on to something considered valuable by these people. It could be worse.

A kind smile appeared on the gentleman’s face, and he reached out to pat her arm, making the Yuan-ti jump like a startled animal.

“You did the right thing, turning that there over to someone,” he assured her. “Someone’s going to be looking for that, and it’ll be mighty important to them. You look like you could use some place to rest for the evening. Take my offer; my flat’s just upstairs and you could use my son’s old room for the night. I could use the conversation. The Dark Maiden Eilistraee knows I haven’t had good company in years.”

A sense of shame washed over Essätha like the overcast sky above had let lose a torrent of rain. She had stolen that trinket, and now she was being rewarded for doing so and turning it in. Perhaps it was best that she came to this shopkeep, after all. It gave her a guilty reminder, by the burning silver ring in her pocket, that not all things held value in the ways of money. The lengths she would go to; the offers she would make to keep the last item, the last treasure of her mother close was without limit. It was all she had left.

And even if this simple item was worth a fortune, or just a small handful to return, it burdened and unburdened her all at once to be rid of it. Hopefully the woman would come across it, sooner rather than later.

Regretful for her actions, but more for her next words, Essätha drew her arms away and offered a sweet smile.

“I… I’ll accept that proposal, thank you.”

A very undeserving action, but it was only for a night and she promised herself she would not eat or drink much. It was more for the benefit of the man, and to keep his suspicions if she left too hastily aside.

He seemed quite genuine, after all. Too old and frail to be of trouble if her instincts ended up wrong.

“Grand!” the man practically shouted, beaming from ear to ear. “The shop closes at sundown; so be back around then and I’ll close up and we can enjoy some dinner. I hope you like fish stew!”

She had to laugh at that. When you grew up in a municipality in warm climates, centered with a large river that ran roughly six day’s nonstop jog from the nearest beach, you certainly weren’t afraid to eat some fish.

“That sounds wonderful, thank you,” Essätha giggled, keeping her forced smile in place.

An overnight stay to rejuvenate a bit, and she’d need to get out of here before any seer’s came looking for their lost item, and found her as well. She was the only Yuan-ti in town at the moment; a recognizable stranger among the masses. It wouldn’t be difficult to make assumptions. Accurate one’s at that. She had to be gone, before things got potentially nasty.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dinner had been splendid, and the elder man was polite as could be. It was nice, knowing that not all Drow were antisocial. He spoke well about his late wife who he missed, and his son who had left long ago. He spoke little of the boy, only in vague remarks of concern and sadness.

Essätha made sure not to pry there. So she listened instead; happily engaging in cheery laughs and chattery that went on much later than expected. Her belly was full before long despite her constant protests for now more. The warm spiced cider had been delicious, although the elder man seemed unappeased with it. He added what appeared to be an eyeball to his glass that he ended up slurping up to eat by the end of one of his glasses. It took a bit of effort not to gag at that part, but the rest of the evening was simple and the bed was better than the ground. A bit firm for her taste, but better.

Before the darkness in the clouds had faded to reveal a symbolance of daytime, there had been a loud rapping on the downstairs shop’s door. The glass had rattled in the windows from the force, and it had Essie rousing up from the bed to nervously slip down the stairwell after changing.

By the counter, the shopkeeper; Tibiius was his name, was speaking with a wild-eyed man with pale golden eyes and white hair.

Neither seemed to hear her, or notice her shadow in the stairwell just beside the wall to the counter.

“… I’m so happy you found it!” the man sighed with relief.

Tibiius smiled with genuine warmth to the younger lad.

“Aye, I’m glad it could be returned to it’s rightful owner.”

With narrowed golden brown eyes, Essie squinted in the direction of the man’s grasping hands. A hand moved up to her gnarled black hair, pushing it out of her face to better distinguish him. His outfit was crisp and clean; a suit of someone with plenty of money to spare. White undershirt, a button up covering most of his vest, and long elegant hair braided to fall close to his rear.

Within his grayish neutral toned hands, the Drow insignia stone.

Her mouth opened with confusion.

“How did you say you lost it again?” Tibiius asked in a friendly voice, leaning over the counter with a wince and hand to his lower back.

“I did not,” the man sighed. “It was my brother’s. It went missing. When he was murdered. It took a while to get in contact with our nan to scry for it; she’s a brittle old woman, hasn’t done it in years and hasn’t bothered teaching the art to her grandchildren yet.”

Essätha sucked out a sharp breath, watching as Tibiius lowered his glasses with a deep frown. So deep, it made the wrinkles on his face fall as though gravity had intensified.

“Murdered?” he echoed.

“Yes,” the younger lad stated with bitter resentment, clutching to the rock with pale knuckles. “A few days ago, in fact. We’re searching for his killer, but I’m afraid we’ve little to go on.”

Tibiius shifted on his light house shoes, an empty expression in his vacant stare. His posture straightened, and he turned his head for his red eyes to move towards the stairwell, spotting her figure in the darkness.

The newcomer’s eyes followed with some obvious cluelessness.

Essie’s mouth fell open and closed; her heart jumped from beneath her breast up into her throat with horrified realization. What thoughts were going on behind the elder man’s eyes as he stared at her almost blankly; but with a hint of suspicion and unspoken doubt in his eyes.

Oh no.

[evacharlotteril]

Thank you to everyone who shared prayers for the sacred ceremony this past weekend... what a blessing you all are! They were all brought into the circle, the fire and the light.

What I walked away with, as a general message for us all, was to become unburdened. 

The weight we carry from the past - in the form of beliefs & stories, aches & pains, self glory & self pity etc -  is so very heavy. Set it down. 

There’s no need to know what’s weighing us down… instead we can focus on being unburdened and then allowing whatever is no longer needed to simply fall away.

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#EvaCharlotte #LifeEmpowerment #RISE

#RiseInLove #Peacemakers #ECRIL

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#awakening #growthhacking #entrepreneurship #people #life #positivity #trust #love #peace #legacy #inspired #lawofattraction #selfhelp #selfawareness #soulpurpose #personalgrowth #changemakers #inspirationalquotes #spiritualquotes #selfhelpquotes #mindfulnessquotes #selfrealization #alchemist #inspiredaily

[moodsmithmedia]

Lies, the Universe & Mad Men

In this short lived blog I’ve lied to you. Our relationship just started and I’m already out here telling you mistruths...I owe you an apology. It wasn’t a malicious one, but the size of the lie was monumental. This outright falsehood has become engrained into our culture and belief system without any evidence supporting it, like a religion or other dogmatic belief system. Worse yet, there’s probably more evidence against it that people blindly ignore to avoid the cold, decidedly inconvenient truth (I believe in climate change but in this instance there’s no pun intended). So before anything else let me say I’m sorry. I’ve never wanted to be the kind of person who tells these kinds of lies, certainly not to myself. So here goes...

The universe doesn’t conspire to grant wishes. It doesn’t value spunk. It doesn’t reward the consistent. This seems overwhelmingly negative but it shouldn’t be. The universe does a lot of things! It’s constantly creating fusion reactors that churn out the very atoms of which you’re made. Those atoms come together to form the air you breathe, the mountains you might climb, the brushstrokes of a masterpiece that moves you to tears and the blood that blushes the skin of your loved one’s face when you say just the right thing. That’s not even close to a fraction of it. Anything that you could possibly observe, so much of which is absurdly beautiful, is a process of or within the universe. But what the universe doesn’t do is consider your feelings or desires. It just doesn’t happen. And you should stop thinking that it does. And you should stop filling people with the false hope that it will.

Think about the sheer complexity and time that it takes for all of existence to allow for a set of circumstances to randomly play out. If you’re still thinking that the universe has an interest in your success, your concept of it is still too small and self interested. The observable universe is so big it would take light 13+ BILLION years to cross from one side of the universe to the next. Let’s say there’s an intelligent civilization at one edge of the universe. If they broadcasted a message from their end of the universe to a different civilization on the other side of it, the second civilization wouldn’t receive that message for billions of years. Billions of years! For comparison, humanity is only a couple hundred thousand years old. “They say you die twice, once when you stop breathing and the second, a bit later on, when somebody mentions your name for the last time.” Anyone around when that message was sent could have lived and died twice, thousands of times over before that message was received.

Civilization. Ours is massive and getting bigger. At the time of this writing there are about 7.7 billion of us and there’s speculation that we could top 11 billion by the end of the century. All of us, on one planet with finite resources and an economic system built on the concept of infinite growth. There’s got to be competing interests that necessitate a “loser”. 

Have you ever watched the Olympics? The Men’s 100m is one of the most fascinating sporting events. It’s not simply a display of strength, there’s an artistry required to lower your times past a certain threshold. But before each race, as the competitors get into their blocks, each one of them genuflects. This has never not confused me. Seriously. I get it. But only one person can win! I think the most generous interpretation of it is that they’re all praying for the best race they have within themselves. I can understand and relate to the idea of being the best version of yourself regardless of the outcome. But who competes without the desire to win? Don’t we actually think that competition without that “killer instinct” to win is just a prerequisite for losing?

Imagine there are civilizations all throughout the cosmos with resource distribution complexity issues roughly equal to our own. Can you really imagine that the universe is out here taking a particular interest in each individual, securing them the things they truly want? That’s just not practical. So instead we imagine that the universe is only doing this service for the people who “truly want something”. But the universe is constantly doing, indiscriminately. This very second the ocean is reclaiming the island nation of the Maldives. Their buildings, their economy, their way of life. Depending on whether or not there is another country or group of countries willing to have them, the ocean could potentially reclaim the people of the Maldives too. Clearly the culture of the Maldives hasn’t sufficiently valued not drowning in its list of things they truly want.

What do you truly want? Is it money? Cars? Women? Is it something more wholesome, like children? A career that fulfills you? A person to see you for who you are and still accept you? What about something that seems more fundamental? Not passing away painfully in some natural disaster or terrorist attack? A life free of emotional, physical, or sexual abuse? To be unburdened by addiction or to have the will power to triumph over it? Or is it simply a job that you don’t particularly want but desperately need in order to earn a living for yourself and your family? The questions should bear out the point, but for the sake of being explicit it simply isn’t possible that the people these things don’t work out for didn’t want it enough. Looking at it the opposite way makes it even more clear. Things work out all the time for people who are indifferent to those opportunities. And it fosters some kind of morbid elitism to really believe that.

Paulo Coelho wrote an inspiring piece of fiction and people treat it as if he wrote a modern bible illuminating the path toward a purposeful life for those who make themselves available to it. The Alchemist got endorsements from celebrities, like Oprah, claiming they connected with the spirit of intention in the development of their careers. They speak to the truth of how the universe works when you want something badly enough. This is deeply offensive to the legacy of artists who weren’t sufficiently appreciated in their time and had to die to be taken seriously. Johann Sebastian Bach wasn’t recognized as a composer while he was alive, instead only viewed as a competent organist. The author of Moby Dick only earned $10,000 from his writing over the course of his life. Van Gogh killed himself, a consequence of mental illness and depression over a lack of success.

So I lied to you but really I lied to me. I, in good faith, regurgitated lies told to me in good faith. Different from the televangelists asking for your rent money for tithes so they can purchase mansions and private jets, I wasn’t encouraged to purchase The Alchemist for a percentage of my monthly income to witness my dreams come true. It was given to me. Gifted to me, at a dark time in my life in the hopes that it would spark belief in myself at a time when I needed it. But the principal message of the book is a fantasy. The universe doesn’t know my name, doesn’t value my ambitions and will move on, business as usual, if you or I, died in the street cold and alone. That only became more clear as the dark time that I received The Alchemist in only got darker. How badly I want what I want matters only to me and a bit less so to those that love me but, fairly, have their own ambitions to be weary of.

This talk of dark times reminds me about another stunning fact about the universe worth pondering. The standard mode of existence in the universe is actually dark and cold. It just happens to be the case that the laws of physics, at this particular moment in the life of the universe, facilitate the creation of stars which warm and illuminate incalculably large swaths of the heavens. 

Paulo Coelho’s book took the onus of facilitating your destiny out of your hands and into the hands of a nameless, faceless, benevolent space fairy. While beautiful fiction, this is just an outright diffusion of responsibility. But there is a truth to be told about the universe. It not warm and fuzzy. It won’t make you feel taken care of. It might frighten you, depending on your openness to being challenged. As I write this, I’m not feeling particularly open to challenge. But it returns control of the ride that is your life from a figment of Coelho’s imagination to you, an undeniably real person. Make of it what you will...

“The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent, but if we can come to terms with that indifference, then our existence as a species can have genuine meaning. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.” - Stanley Kubrick

[liadanswhisper]

Farewell to Merchant, Marine

The salt in the air tickled Liadan's nose as she stepped out of the Topmast Apartments, her satchel slung over one shoulder. She tipped her head back to stare up at the bright sun in the clear blue sky and smiled to herself. She'd miss this...for all she'd once thought she'd never miss anywhere but the Shroud. Yes, she'd miss this place. Adjusting her satchel on her shoulder, she headed down the cobblestone path towards the docks and the ferry across the bay to Limsa. And we find what we're made of Through the open door Is it fear you're afraid of? What are you waiting for? Limsa Lominsa that afternoon held the chaos and bustle she'd learned to love about the city, and she took her time making her way through the market towards the ferry to Thanalan, for it would likely be some time ere she saw it again. A bolt of brilliant blue cloth, a pouch of dried Chamomile, and a small tin of Paprika later, she finally found her way past Maelvaan's Gate to the ferry docks. Her expression was thoughtful as she watched the white city fade from sight aboard the ferry ship. Helplessness as Dominic Morris was carted away to his sentence. The comfort of Ursuline and Guerrique's arms around her. Raw fear at the sight of the Gunship approaching the Iron Bitch. Overwhelming power the moment when the storm became hers to command. Shame at having misjudged a man who deserved her respect. We're only here for a season I'm looking for the rhyme and reason Why you're born, why you're leaving What you fear and what you believe in Three days into her journey north through Thanalan, she still had no answers. She had studiously avoided thinking in-depth about the situation with the singer, and probably for the best - that was a wound that would not fade easily, if ever. And still Haelsytrmm's words continued to nag at her. The Alchemists of Thanalan were very...particular about where and how they offered their aid, and the Executioners were not well-favored, nor were most pirates. Aye, that was what bothered her the most. That he had been turned away by those with the power to save his wife. That he never thought to look further for help, or perhaps the Fane would have turned him away, as well. It all seemed so wrong to her. "If it's the hope of all mankind, Courageous, why do we insist on hiding it under a rock, doling it out to only those we deem worthy?" Alas, the pale chocobo had no answers for her, merely trilling a high-pitched kweh, as though commiserating with her. She sighed, reaching down to pat the neck of the bird, "I know. People are stupid." And she was headed right back into the thick of it...the prejudices, the petty hatreds and disdain for those who didn't look like them, didn't talk like them, didn't know any better. All the while, the Empire loomed ever closer over the boughs of the Shroud. Why you're living and breathing Why you're fighting it and getting it even Let's go headed down the open road unknown And yet, the closer she drew to the Shroud, the more excited she became. The desert had ever been her bane, a thing she couldn't help but detest. So the first sight of the scrub and small trees in Wellwick Wood that marked the beginning of the transition between Thanalan and the Shroud proper caused her to break out in a wide smile. Most people described feeling nothing passing through the Hedge, but Liadan was not among them. She could feel the moment she stepped back inside the forest that had been her home for as long as she could remember. She slid off the back of her chocobo, walking over to the nearest tree and leaning her forehead against it with a sigh. Her eyes blurred with tears as she stood there for several minutes, simply breathing in as the cool breeze ruffled her hair. How we have waited... The whispers in her mind began almost immediately, with a clarity and coherance she hadn't heard in months. She pushed away from the tree with a smile and started walking further down the path, her chocobo following in her wake. As she moved deeper into the Shroud, a small glowing orb floated out of the treeline to hover over her shoulder. So I'm back to the basics I figure it's time I face this Time to take my own advice Love alone is worth the fight She didn't regret it, not any of it. She hadn't completely succeeded, but no one ever did. She'd persevered where it mattered, though, and brokered a middle ground. It wasn't what she had wanted, but it was better than the alternative. She'd have to cling to the memory of Ursuline finally unburdened by what had occurred so long ago in Toto-Rak, and the promise of Morris's freedom. She'd carry the memory of Haelstyrmm's failure to save what mattered most to him, as well, and remember her own failure in judging him by what others said, and the visage he presented, instead of looking at his heart. The drums of war were already echoing throughout the forest, and she'd have to hope she'd learned enough from all she'd seen, all the mistakes she'd made, to make the right decisions this time. I am only one, but I am one. I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And what I can do, that I ought to do. And what I ought to do, by the grace of the Twelve I shall do.