#the warlock without a patron - michael
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
springvaletales · 6 months ago
Text
@deaddoveadventures
"Well that's just plainly untrue." The human glared back from where he lay on his own bedroll, head pillowed on his clasped hands. In the semi-darkness of the forest, the arcane glow of his blue eyes was even more prominent. "Sometimes I think about bread." He wanted to dispute the insult - what Curumë called 'self-destruction' he called 'protecting your friends' - but it fit him too well. Even his own group of friends often gave him the same critique at the end of a quest.
At the end of the day, it didn't matter to Michael, so long as everyone they lived.
"All joking aside, I do think of the future. Quite often." Michael shifted to sit up on his elbows. Three years prior, he'd had no memory of a time that wasn't cold stone walls and an unpredictable, inevitable, painful death around every corner. He'd had no reason to think it would ever end - no reason to spare any thought to what he might do 'after', because 'after' wasn't even a speck on the horizon. "I...didn't have the chance to, for a while," He closed his eyes. "So I'm making up for lost time. And what good is a future with no-one else in it?"
8 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 1 year ago
Text
“Uh…” The young man cringed at the assumption, having no words on hand to dispute it. “That necromancer that I mentioned crossing before may have…possibly…been their leader.” He admitted slowly, once more looking around the darkness. He hadn’t been planning on spilling this particular secret tonight but oh well-
"It's-. It's probably fine, but," Michael swallowed. He couldn't see any other movement, nor hear anything louder than the Wargs that were awake, but that meant nothing. "We....we might want to wake up the others and get going a little early."
Most of the time the orc kept her distance from Pinkskins, she preferred to not get involved if she could help it but with the cold months approaching she’d decided to get a head start on gathering what she’d need.
While she wasn’t welcome in Pinkskin settlements there were plenty of traders and merchant caravans in need of escorts across the land. Those who couldn’t afford decent mercenary escorts often turned to slightly Shady characters. The shade character in this case was the orc teenager and her pack of wargs.
“I think my rates are rather fair for the services I offer, considering it’s myself and five wargs protecting your whole caravan. Do we have a deal?”
74 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 3 months ago
Text
(( @deaddoveadventures cont from [x]))
"No." The answer should have been defensive. It was meant to be defensive. But for the last two hours, it had been all Michael could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and he didn't have any energy left over to sound anything more than tired.
"Not by my own will, anyway." The Human hauled himself over the same piece of rubble that Curumë had so easily climbed over with a grunt of exertion and slid down the other side. Gods, but he'd forgotten how much it hurt to travel wounded...he'd gotten too used to always having Naoka's spells or Bashur's bottomless potion supply on hand.
"I can't speak to my bloodline, either, but I pray that isn't my destiny." Michael straightened up with a wince and kept moving before his body could think about resting. "That feels cruel, even for the gods."
5 notes · View notes
queenlilith43 · 3 years ago
Text
The Princes of Hell
Okay, this is it. After six and a half hours, I have finished the post.
This includes all canon information and my theories. Feel free to reblog with your own.
Tag list: (love y'all, tell me if you want to be added or removed!) @the-blackdale @patalliumapples @murderbabies @blueth0rn @herondalesofterrasen @revati3008 @tenacioushubb @pjo-tsc-trc-otherthingstoo @bookeater34 @unorganisedbookshelf @clarys-heosphoros
Extra thanks to @patalliumapples without her help this post never would have been finished. So thank you for helping me.
Belial
Tumblr media
Belial: The Thief (From Hebrew Bel’yy’al, meaning “wickedness, a wicked man, a destroyer)
Has sometimes been called the father of Lucifer (?)
Claimed to have convinced Lucifer to rise up against God in rebellion
Patron demon of the month of January
Invocations to his name can be found in the Black Volume of the Dead
[11:8 . . . the hordes of Belial . . . ]
[13:4 Acursed be Belial for his inimical plan, may he be damned for his blameworthy rule]
[4:2 ?’s fury unleashed against Belial and ? the men of his lot]
[13:1-2 ?]
There are coins on top of his Bible verses, like coins placed on dead man’s eyes. He also has a map behind him, which looks like London?
Belial has one confirmed eldest curse: Tessa Gray, born in 1862. All descendents of Will Herondale are descendants of Belial, with his grandchildren James and Lucie Herondale, ones he has his eyes on. Another grandchild is Mina Carstairs, as of GOTSM very small.
Belial is not very smart, nor is he powerful. His plans tend to fall apart at the seams. Despite this, he tries to keep up with the mundanes. At one point in Chain of Iron, he had black nail polish on.
His main goal is to walk on Earth, which he just can’t, compared to other demons. He can do this by possessing someone of his own blood, but in that case two factors get in his way: His sexism and his own stupidity. Belial (as of TLH) is trying to possess James, but not Lucie. Because he is a sexist pig.
Belial had a plan to use Jesse Blackthorn’s body to walk on the Earth, because Jesse’s soul had a small part of his he could use as an anchor. However, due to his dumbassery and lack of foresight, he was defeated by the Shadowhunters. This plan tied into his necromantic abilities, which his granddaughter Lucie seems to have inherited.
Belial also steals realms. He stole Belphegor’s realm from him a long time ago, and once kicked it, moved onto a bigger prize. In Chain of Iron, he tried to steal Edom, which is Lilith’s realm. She showed up, beat his sexist ass, and now Belial has to find a new realm.
Allied with Leviathan.
He has a huge weakness in the sword Cortana. If he is stabbed with that three times, he dies. The sword is so potent because embedded in Cortana’s hilt is a feather of the archangel Michael, the one who put him in Hell in the first place. As of Chain of Iron, he has been stabbed with Cortana twice. The next one will be the fatal blow.
Belial, in Ghosts of the Shadow Market and Chain of Gold, showed the ability to shift into other people to tempt you. It's kind of interesting how he did that.
“You have me wrong, child, if you think I feel that humans are foolish.” - Belial, Page 469, Chain of Gold
“Belial, who ‘did not walk among men,’ was described as the prince of necromancers and warlocks, and a thief of realms.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
"'To-may-to of agony, to-mah-to of ah-gony,' Belial said. His reflections in the mirrors wept tears of blood. 'Do you know what causes us pain? The one who made us has turned his face from us. We are not allowed before the throne. But adamas, that's angelic stuff. When we touch it, the pain of our absence from the divine is indescribable. And yet it's the closest we ever get to being in it's presence. So we touch adamas, and we feel the absence of our creator, and in that we feel the smallest speak of what we once were. Oh, it's the most wonderful thing you can imagine, that pain.'" - Page 148, Ghosts of the Shadow Market, Learn About Loss
“‘Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.’ It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? From the book of James, too . . . I see that you begin to understand a fraction of your power you could have if you embraced your true heritage.” - Belial, Page 490, Chain of Gold
“Beliya’al, liar, ruin-lover, I could not believe you would have broken the trust of millenia--would have tried to take from me the land granted to me by Heaven itself.” - Lilith, Page 544, Chain of Iron
Belial appears in Ghosts of the Shadow Market, Chain of Gold, The Lost Book of the White, Chain of Iron, and should be in Chain of Thorns.
What will Belial do next? Well, the first thing he’d want to do is steal himself another realm. That could give him power and other demons he could control. Hopefully he learned his lesson and doesn’t go after Edom again, and instead attacks a demon like Belphegor, which can be defeated easily.
Belial is still working with Tatiana Blackthorn, and some people have suggested that they are in a relationship. I wouldn’t rule it out, considering the fact Belial calls her his “dark swan” and seems to care for her. She also provides half of his braincells, and is the only reason why he hasn’t been killed yet.
At both the end of Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron, Belial has been seen talking with Tatiana. Her idea was to go to the Adamant Citadel . . . but for what? She also gave him a key to some tombs. The Silent City.
Something’s down there. And Belial won’t stop until he gets what he wants. It may be to possess James, but what else is he planning? (Time to re-read the last chapter of both Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron!)
Belphegor
Tumblr media
Belphegor (Associated with the sin of laziness.)
According to the Infernal Dictionary, Belphegor was Hell’s ambassador to France.
Belphegor’s prime is widely associated with the Number of the Beast, 666
*The only Prince of Hell ever to have married a mortal, but the marriage was not a happy one. Belphegor returned to Hell denouncing the institution of marriage.
Known as “Lord of Opening” and can open passages to Pandemonium, the city of demons.
Known as the enemy of Beauty and despises beautiful things.
Instead of a face, we have a skull, similar to the skull on Sebastain’s flower card. (Look it up if you have to, but it’s there.) Another skull can be seen where the page flips over in the top left corner.
No known eldest curses, since Belphegor has been floating around in the void since at least the 1200s.
Belphegor used to have a realm of his own, but that was stolen by Belial. That only contributed to his unwillingness to work with others, something that could come into play later.
No known alliances, and probably doesn’t have any.
“Belphegor, the prince of sloth and, strangely, tricksters and snake-oil salesmen.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“Poor Belphegor. I wounded him quite gravely when he was not expecting it. No doubt he is still floating in the space between worlds, trying to find his way home. Not a nice fellow, Belphegor--I wouldn’t waste your sympathy on him.” - Belial, Page 466, Chain of Gold
“Azazel and Asmodeus have worked together, as have Belial and Leviathan, while Belphegor hates his brethren.” - Magnus, Page 441, Chain of Iron
“Belpehgor and Belial had ignored each other completely since they arrived, each refusing to acknowledge the other’s existence.” - Page 364, The Lost Book of the White
He only appears at the end of The Lost Book of the White, with brief mentions in both Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron.
Theories: Belphegor has an interesting power. The ability to open passages straight to Pandemonium. If he’s played right, he could lead all the demons back to that city. If not, he could take all the demons out of the city.
Good for us, he doesn’t work with his brothers. He really doesn’t like them, and now probably resents Belial for stealing his realm. I wouldn’t blame him, so Sammael is going to try his damndest to get his brothers to work together.
Belphegor also hates marriage, which could crop up in TBOVTD. By then, Malec will have been married for at least two years. (Eek!) And if he gets involved with them they’re going to have another problem. Thankfully, it took Magnus and Alec beating Sammael’s ass to have him believe in love, so Belphegor might not be as big a problem as we thought.
However, Sebastian Morgenstern’s flower card holds a skull similar to the one Belphegor has on his portrait, suggesting a connection between the two. It’s a far stretch, but we’ve learned never to rule anything out.
Leviathan
Tumblr media
Leviathan (Often considered the demon of Envy)
Born a twin he murdered and ate his sister.
Leviathan is sometimes pictured as a serpent eating its own tail, considered the origin of ouroboros.
[Symbol of ouroboros . . . which was the symbol of the Pandemonium Club in Clockwork Angel . . . which has something to do with Mortmain.]
“In that day, the Lord, with his sore and great and strong sword will punish Leviathan the slant serpent Leviathan the torturous serpent: and he will slay the dragon that is in the sea.” - Book of Isaiah
He claims he was the serpent in the Garden of Eden
One of the oldest Princes of Hell.
The only Prince of Hell who is not a fallen Angel - Leviathan was always a monster.
Leviathan represents the element of water.
He has no known eldest curses, but if he does, their warlock mark would probably be tentacles, as theorized in Chain of Iron.
He can sneak into anywhere with his tentacles, even very small places. That’s odd, considering the fact he is really massive.
Allied with Belial.
“Leviathan, the demon of envy, chaos, and the sea, who was monstrous and rarely summoned.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“Something surged out of the sea-foam--another tentacle, this one thrashing and alive. It was as big as a grown human and impossibly long, and as it reared back out of the waves, Thomas could see that its underside was covered with hundreds of hard, spiked barbs.” - Page 523, Chain of Iron
“They were a motley sort of crew, he had to admit, from Belial--appearing, as he most did, as a beautiful, pale-haired man--to Leviathan, who was more of a dark green serpent, with sleek scales and arms that could be charitably described as tentacle-adjacent.” - Page 363, The Lost Book of the White
He appears in both Chain of Iron and The Lost Book of the White, as well as being mentioned in Chain of Gold.
Theories: Leviathan has a high chance of showing up again in TLH. Allied with Belial, he can be called on anytime. The Shadowhunters did fight him off in Chain of Iron (this was in Cassandra Jean’s postcards released shortly before the book, pay attention to any official art for hints at Princes of Hell, especially in TWP) but he could come back. However, he is very large, and I don’t think Belial would think lightly of getting Leviathan back to help him.
The symbolism is high with the ouroboros symbol. This was the symbol of the Pandemonium Club from Clockwork Angel, who were involved with Axel Mortmain. This is loaded, especially when you consider Mortmain also had Belial involved with him, and now Belial wants to possess Tessa’s kids, who never would have existed had it not been for Mortmain’s little experiment. Leviathan could have some callbacks to TLH in TWP, especially as we learn more about his alliance with Belial. I wonder how they formed it, and also when Azazel and Asmodeus work together.
Leviathan does mess with the theory of all the Princes of Hell melding together, because has different origins. However, it’s totally possible that there could just be pieces of Lucifer inside of each Prince they have to get out and put together.
Mammon
Tumblr media
Mammon, from the Aramaic Mamona meaning “wealth, profit”
When the rich do evil, they are almost always tempted by Mammon. He can also tempt the poor with promises of wealth.
[“Mammon being carried up from Hell by a wolf, coming to inflame the human heart with greed” - Thomas Aquinas]
(His diet consists of blood and gold.)
Mammon fell from Heaven when he tried to convince Lucifer that rather than remaining in divine service, the angels should use the wealth of Hell to control the universe.
Mammon is often pictured with many eyes, with which he searches for gold.
[‘No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon.’ - Matthew 6:19]
((Runs Hell’s bank))
A ring is in the top left corner, with a sword on it. It appears to be made of gold.
No known eldest curses.
All we know about him is that he’s very possessive, from what I’ve observed. He represents what greed does to a person.
No known alliances.
“Mammon, the prince of greed and wealth, could be bribed with money and riches.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“Leviathan and Mammon had decided to sit in the same chair, each arguing it was the only cosmically large chair present and as the most sizable of the princes he deserved it more.” - Page 364, The Lost Book of the White
Mentioned in Chain of Gold and appears in The Lost Book of the White
Theories: I think he won’t do much. He’s the Prince of greed, so all we need to do is just give him some money, and he’ll be good. Plus, Mammon could still be fighting with Levithan over that stupid chair that he’ll forget he has to actually do things.
The challenge with Sammael trying to get these guys to work together is that they don’t want to. Leviathan and Mammon fought over a chair, Belial and Belphegor ignored each other, and Astaroth was very skeptical of the whole thing. I honestly hope that they do need to work together to get Lucifer, because we can avoid this whole mess just by having these guys try and work together. It will not turn out very good for them.
Although we have confirmation Hell has a bank . . . what do they do down there. Does this mean there’s a main Hell dimension, with Pandemonium at the center? This is an interesting question that needs to be answered.
Astaroth
Tumblr media
(Also known as: Ashtaroth, Astarot, Asteroth, Great Duke of Hell)
If a magican approaches Astaroth with a blessed ring of silver bearing the Seal of Solomon, he will be protected from Astaroth’s deadly aura.
Astaroth can see the past, present and future from his realm.
The prince of accusers and inquisitors, associated with lawyers and misuse of the law.
“Asteroth is a great and strong Duke, coming forth in the shape of a foul angel, sitting upon an Infernal dragon and carrying on his right hand a viper.” - Pseudomonarchia Daemonium (Viper appears across the pages.)
After his fall from grace, his wings became those of an eagle.
Asteroth alone of the Princes of Hell believes he has been misjudged. If a warlock summons Asteroth, the demon will plead his case, explaining why he deserves to be reinstated as an angel.
((The demon of the month of August.))
On the page there is a pentagram, with his name around the edge.
No known eldest curses.
We know literally nothing about him except the fact he seems like the ultimate lawyer. Interestingly the word “inquisitor” was used to describe him . . .
No known alliances.
“Astaroth, who tempted men to bear false witness, and who took advantage of the grieving.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“If that’s the way it’s always been, then that’s the way it’s supposed to be,’ said Asteroth. There was nodding from the others.” - Page 364, The Lost Book of the White
Mentioned in Chain of Gold, appears in The Lost Book of the White
This guy is powerful, but we don’t know much about him. He just hasn’t showed up that much. Although I sense he could be important.
According to his page, Astaroth can see the future from his realm. First of all, that’s powerful. Second of all, I’ve theorized in the past that some dreams Clary, Magnus, and Kit have had are prophetic. Which means these dreams could come from Astaroth, who’s just been chilling in his realm. It’s very crackpot, but it could work.
Also, the “tempts men to bear false witness” part? We literally have the Mortal Sword from THULE, another realm, and we’re just using it as we would normally? Astaroth totally could mess with the truth-telling sword. He already might have. If Lilith can mess with Cortana, Astaroth can do this. That would also be a nice way to tie TWP back to TMI.
Azazel
Tumblr media
Azazel: Forger of Weapons.
(name meaning: Scapegoat)
“The whole earth has been corrupted through the works that were taught by Azazel: to him ascribe all sin.” - Book of Enoch 10.8
Associated with those on whom blame falls unfairly.
He taught mankind the invention and use of weapons, to raise up blades against each other. ((He was the whisper in the ear of Cain when he struck down Abel))
In punishment, he was bound to the rocks of Dudael, in the wilderness, where he will abide until the Day of Wrath.
And then we have Azazel, chained up, with a demonic symbol on his chest. The chains have left scars on his wrists. There’s a train ticket up in the left corner I think says Chicago.
No confirmed eldest curses, and it’s unlikely he has one
Azazel has been chained up on Dudael for a long, long time. If he gets free, we’re screwed. However, that looks unlikely, seeing as he is supposed to be released on the Day of Wrath. (Let’s ignore the fact that it was a chapter title in City of Ashes.)
Despite being chained up in another dimension, you can still summon Azazel. However, like Magnus, be prepared to have to deal with Azazel being stubborn, and not wanting to leave.
He also takes happy memories when you summon him, feasting on them, just like Asmodeus does. It’s very similar the way these two work.
Azazel can make demonically-aligned weapons. They are very powerful, so keep that in mind.
Allied with Asmodeus.
“Azazel, the forger of weapons who fell from grace when he gifted humans with the instruments of violence.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“He’s not a cat, Sylvester. He’s a Greater Demon. Lieutenant of Hell and Forger of Weapons. He was an angel who taught mankind how to make weapons, when before it had been knowledge only angels possessed. That caused him to fall, and now he is a demon.” - Magnus, Page 207, City of Lost Souls
“You may not be proud like old Faustus, warlock, but you are impatient. I am sure my willingness to remain in this pentagram will outlast your desire to keep watch over me inside it.” - Azazel, Page 235, City of Lost Souls
Appears in City of Lost Souls, mentioned in Chain of Gold, Chain of Iron, and then shows up again in The Lost Book of the White.
He’s the literal lieutenant of Hell, which might explain why he’s allied with Asmodeus.
Azazel is going to be put to work making weapons if they manage to summon Lucifer, I just know that.
If he gets from Dudael it’ll be around the time they get the Lucifer situation resolved. And when he shows up, all Hell will break lost.
Asmodeus
Tumblr media
(Associated with the sin of lust and described as “the worst of demons”)
Also known as Ashmedi, the king of certain demonic spirits (the shedim & djinn)
He personally battled the angel Raphael after being cast out from Heaven.
It is said Asmodeus was bound to King Solomon and forced to do his bidding.
Loves gambing and runs all the gambling houses in Hell.
He is often called on by those seeking REVENGE
He is the demon of the month of November.
He hates water and birds because they remind him of God.
In the center of the page there is a thing of barbed wire.
(If I go on a rant about him, I’m sorry, but I HATE HIM.)
Asmodeus has one confirmed eldest curse, Magnus Bane. It’s hinted that he had a lot of other children, but barely any of them lived past 100 years.
Magnus, at 400 years old, is his pride in joy. In The Red Scrolls of Magic we saw Asmodeus trying to manipulate Magnus, and again in City of Heavenly Fire. (This also happened in the TV show which . . . heh heh it was not good. I felt so sorry for Magnus.)
Asmodeus is one of the smartest and most powerful Princes. He actually seems to be the only Prince who is serious most of the time. He doesn’t crack jokes, and is normally a silent, brooding figure.
Asmodeus had a demon-worshipping cult called the Crimson Hand, courtesy of Magnus. (Magnus made a joke cult and then chose Asmodeus as the demon it would worship to piss off his dad. It did not end well.) Asmodeus could have ended up appearing on Earth because of the cult . . . but he needed an immortal life to anchor him.
Although now he has that life. He took Simon’s immortality at the end of City of Heavenly Fire, as their price for going back to Earth. Strangely enough. Asmodeus hasn’t made any moves with it. He’s just sat there, with the immortal life in hand, not doing much of anything.
Asmodeus also feeds on emotions and memories. We’ve seen the way he acts, no wonder he’s so composed.
He alone of the princes respects Sammael and understands his plan on a deeper level. Asmodeus looks like someone who wants good ol’ Luci back.
Because of him, we know of the eldest curses. He brought up the idea in The Red Scrolls of Magic, and it seems his eldest curse is very near and dear to his heart. It’s like he plans to do something with Magnus, something big.
Every Prince of Hell has his own realm, and his is Edom, who he shares with Lilith. But he doesn't hang out there a lot because, according to him "it isn't exciting anymore!"
There exists an incantation his children can use to summon him, a twisted version of the Lord’s Prayer.
Allied with Azazel.
“Asmodeus, the demon of lust and rumored general of Hell’s army.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“I want to talk to my son. It has been almost two centuries since we last spoke, Magnus. You don’t call, you don’t make sacrifices on my altar. It wounds your fond parent.” - Asmodeus, Page 300, The Red Scrolls of Magic.
“I was a seraphim once, one of the angels indeed. Part of an innumerable company. Then came the war, and we fell like stars from Heaven. I followed the Light-Bringer down, the Morning Star, for I was one of his chief advisers, and when he fell, I fell with him. He raised me up in Hell and made me one of the nine rulers. In case you were wondering, it is preferable to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven--I’ve done both.” - Asmodeus, Page 621, City of Heavenly Fire
Appears in City of Heavenly Fire, The Red Scrolls of Magic, and The Lost Book of the White, mentioned in Chain of Gold and alluded to several times.
Theories: Asmodeus is going to use Simon’s immortal life. He has to. It’s just sitting there, and he must have a plan for it. This probably will be fully realized in The Black Volume of the Dead. Which is also one of the books in the Malec series.
Which means here comes my crackpot theory! I’ve mentioned before I think Magnus will get possessed by a demon . . . but what if Asmodeus has something to do with that? I doubt Asmodeus himself will possess Magnus; he’s way too smart for that. However, Asmodeus can easily use less powerful demons to mess with Magnus. He already manipulates him, what else could happen?
Just based on Asmodeus’s attitude towards Magnus, I feel like Magnus has a huge part to play in the upcoming demon war of TWP. (Need to re-read The Red Scrolls of Magic to figure out more, but what I have so far could be scraped into a decent theory.)
He’s also the general of Hell’s army, so that will show up again.
Sammael
Tumblr media
The Serpent
Youngest of the nine Princes of Hell
Sammael, name meaning venom (or poison?) of God
It is believed he was the original serpent of the Garden of Eden and seduced Adam’s first wife Lilith. Later became his lover for many thousands of years.
He was the guardian of Esau and the patron demon of Rome.
There is a feather lying on his page.
No confirmed eldest curses, even if I have that headcanon Ragnor is actually his son and he ignores him. @patalliumapples came up with that one.
Sammael performed the ritual that weakened the wards with Lilith, also known as the Incursion. Without him, there would be no Shadowhunters.
After that, he wandered around in the void. (FYI I will now call him Johnny Appleseed because that is my nickname for him and I can't look at his picture without thinking “Johnny Appleseed”)
Johnny Appleseed came back, and with it, gained the Sventhorn. Johnny then used it to take Shinyun and Ragnor in his service. Those two tried to get Magnus into his service, stabbing him twice with the sword. Magnus was able to get out of being absorbed into his magic by Alec’s sacrifice. (This is why I love Alec.)
Johnny is now wanting to summon Lucifer, partly as a way to get Lilith back, and partly as a way to raise Hell.
No known alliances.
“There was Sammael, the first to loose demons upon the Earth.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold
“I know we don’t talk much,” - Sammael, Page 363, The Lost Book of the White
“I’m really much more the waterfalls-of-blood, abstract-sculpture-of-viscera type.” - Sammael, Page 300, The Lost Book of the White
Mentioned in several books, like Chain of Gold, City of Fallen Angels, and appears in The Lost Book of the White
His next move is to summon Lucifer. He needs to herd cats, AKA get the other Princes to work together. And I think he might be able to do that.
Lucifer
Tumblr media
9 - Hell from beneath is moved for three to meet thee at thy coming: it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the Earth; it hath raised up from their throne all the kings of the nations.
10 - All they shall speak and say unto three, art thou also become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us?
11 - Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread unto three, and the worms cover thee.
12 - How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nation!
13 - For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into Heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God
14 - I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most high
15 - Yet thou shalt be brought down to Hell, to the sides of the pit
16 - They that see thee shall narrowly look on thee, and consider thee, saying, is this man that made the Earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms
17 - That made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities there of; that opened the house of his prisoners?
18- All the kings of the nations, even all of them, lie in glory, every one in his own house.
19 - Thou shalt not be joined with them in burial, because thou hast destroyed thy land, and slain thy people: the seed of evildoers shall never be renowned.
A splatter of blood lies on the page. A shadow across a throne.
No confirmed eldest curses.
Little is known, except we have confirmation of existence, and he ruled with the other Princes. But where did he go?
The Morgenstern is associated with him.
No known alliances.
“And lastly, of course, there was Lucifer, the leader of the archangels, the most beautiful of any prince, the leader of the rebellion against Heaven.” - Page 277, Chain of Gold.
“Of course, if you’d bothered to think about it, you’d think it a little strange that the symbol of the Wayland family would be a falling star. So I had to take precautions . . . I forget how regrettably lax mundane education is. Morgenstern means ‘morning star’ As in How art thou fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nation!” - Valentine, Page 446, City of Bones
“Nous serviam. It’s what Lucifer had inscribed on his banner when he rode with his host of rebel angels against a corrupt authority.” - Valentine, Page 258, City of Ashes
“Yes. I want to talk about Lucifer.” - Sammael, Page 365, The Lost Book of the White
Anything could happen with the Prince. For this theory section, I implore you to come up with your own theories based on the Bible verses above. Tell me what you think will happen when this Prince comes back to rule as a king.
So this is the post. Thank you for reading my 4779 words that involved me going slightly insane.
184 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 3 months ago
Text
Unprepared for the nudge, the human made a noise of surprise, though he recovered only a step later. His building anxiety had been expecting a much stronger reaction, and at it's peak, the distance between the worst he expected and reality made him laugh out loud without.
The sound was a little too loud on the quiet, empty street, even after Michael covered his mouth, and the gentle ringing of the metal wind chimes that hung from his mother's porch echoed back in response. When no lights flickered in the windows and no irate neighbors poked their heads outside to scold him for the noise, he relaxed.
And a greater weight than he expected felt like it had lifted off his shoulders.
"I'm always around." Michael smiled. "Well, mostly, these days." He didn't follow his friends on every quest they took (on Captain Astaroth's insistence, and his frustration), but he never turned down the offer to join them when it came. "But even when I do wander, I'm never gone for very long.
"And I'm afraid you're going to have to try much, much harder if you want to annoy me." They had reached his mother's front gate, now, so Michael stopped and rested one hand on the handle, still smiling. It seemed a little brighter, now...or maybe that was his eyes. Outside the glow of the burning streetlight flames, the glow of his eyes was much more noticeable. "I've got a lot of patience."
“They call themselves ‘Sunfell’.” Michael said, not seeming to pick up on Rhaya's sudden wariness. He wouldn't have found it out of place, even if he had. Ancient cults were a good subject to be wary of. "Most people in these parts have heard of them, but no-one likes to talk about them..."don't speak of the devil, lest he appear", I suppose." The human shrugged.
He could see his mother's house, now, far away at the end of the street. He could just barely see the glow of the enchanted lights she used to line her front walk, and if he listened close, he could hear the gentle sounds of the wind chimes she hung from the porch beams.
He suddenly felt very, very tired.
"....one of their members - an underling to the leader I...brushed with - is risen dead." Michael said in a quiet voice after they had walked in silence for a few houses. "A Dragonborn, near twelve feet tall. He-...he rattles when he walks." The human shuddered visibly. "When you found me in that alley, I'd just heard something similar, and for a second, I-. I actually thought-...."
I actually thought he was there. The sentence hung, unspoken, in the silence, and Michael eventually cleared his throat, and shook his head, as if trying to shake away the memory of the sound. The mere thought of Senn Dugaal's heralding clatter was prickling the skin of his arms, and he didn't want to let it linger.
"I suppose it doesn't matter what I thought." Michael let out a small breath, and turned a tired smile towards his companion. "I'm just glad you were nearby."
9 notes · View notes
ladynuwanda · 5 years ago
Text
Whatever Souls Are Made Of (Michael LandonXMallory AU) - Chapter 4
A/N: Are you guys still there? I’m still here! This was a tricky chapter to write, but kind of exciting as well! I hope you enjoy it... <3
Warnings: None, I guess. Big revelations. Some liberties I took with Mists of Avalon folklore, again... I hope you don’t mind!
Word Count: 3K
Life finds a way to go on, no matter what. In the aftermath of Michael’s departure with Lady Mead, the Coven had to prepare for a Seven Wonders Trial to define a new leadership. Cordelia was now Lady Cordelia, the one and only Supreme, to no one’s surprise but her own. And the beginning of her leading journey was to put everything back in place after the cruelest of Summers. Not only by redefining people’s roles in the Coven, but making the remaining members of the household feel safe again. It was Lady Cordelia’s first job to turn the Manor back into a home.
For the longest time Mallory could only ask herself how a broken heart can keep on beating, when it shouldn’t. She should have the right to leave this world, now that all hopes of love were lost, she shouldn’t be forced to live. It was just so hard. Breathing was such a chore. But in spite of all the pain, she was still there. And it wasn’t in Mallory’s nature to quit. If being a witch and a member of the Coven was all she had left, she was going to be the best witch the Coven had ever seen. And the best sister the only family that remained to her could possibly have. She studied longer and harder than anyone else, to perfect her craft. And decided to dedicate all the love she held in her heart to her sisters, old and new.
It was another terrible blow to the witches, specially Zoe, when they found out that Madison Montgomery’s body had disappeared on the same night Michael escaped with Lady Mead. But life did go on, even if that particular crime were to remain unsolved and no justice whatsoever was ever made in Madison’s name. Under the leadership of their new Supreme, everything in the Coven fell back into place during the following years. Teachers left the school to work elsewhere, students became teachers and new students arrived. And the inhabitants of the Manor experienced an unprecedented time of peace and safety.
Lady Mead’s presence seemed to have left some sort of a curse on the Grange halls and grounds. There was no proper tenant there and it was mostly closed for the next five years. Until it wasn’t. But whoever the new tenant was, he or she had not yet set foot on the grounds, all transactions were made by employees, and all contracts signed under a social name, the Cooperative. The moving happened in the middle of the night, and no one in the Coven ever saw who it was. In a few days, a formal invitation was delivered to the Manor, for a gala event at the newly-renamed Hawthorne Grange, an opportunity for the new tenant to make introductions to whomever among the new neighbours could be relevant.
The entire household had been invited and were welcomed to the Grange by the new Governess, one Wilhemina Venable. Over glasses of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, she told them about the new tenant’s plans to turn Hawthorne Grange into a school for special boys, not unlike Robichaux Manor was for girls. Myrtle Snow found the very notion risible, after all men are simply not equal to women when it comes to magical ability. “Not to mention everything else”, quipped Myrtle. Miss Venable didn’t seem to register the comment, she merely went on explaining that the new tenant and the Cooperative had big plans for young warlocks everywhere.
It was then that the witches noticed that the party guests weren’t just the most prominent inhabitants of the neighbouring properties, but also a group of warlocks they had never seen before, most likely the potential teachers of the school to be. As well as the two guests of honour, a pair of strange men with the most unusual haircuts, that weren’t interacting with anyone but each other at the festive occasion. Making them the most unknown, or unpopular, guests of honour in any party the witches had ever been to. And to add to the strangeness of the event, there was still no sign of the actual new tenant anywhere.
There was dancing at the party, although Zoe and Kyle were probably the only pair of dancers that seemed to actually have known each other beforehand. Mallory was standing alone at one corner, with a glass of wine for company, while Coco danced with Lord Brock, a young and wealthy farmer who owned a property not far from Robichaux Manor. Mallory was quite pleased to see her friend getting to know someone new, but she was positively sure that her own days of being swept off her feet on the dance floor were over.
She was so lost in thought, enjoying her wine more by the minute, giving Coco encouraging smiles while she danced with her beau, that she didn’t even notice the tall, dark figure that was standing next to her, until she heard a voice that was more familiar than her own, a voice she hadn’t expected to hear ever again in her life, saying “may I have the next dance?”. It was Michael but he was so different, only Mallory could recognise him. He was dressed impeccably in tones of black and red, his long golden hair falling softly to his shoulders and he had an icy glint to his blue eyes. That was the greatest difference from the boy she knew, not his perfect manners or the way he dressed, but the way his face was set. The stone-cold look hardening his delicate features.
But it was Michael, nonetheless. Right in front of her, alive and well. And back home, somehow. She didn’t hesitate to take the hand he offered and they joined the other dancers. Mallory was lost in a daze, staring at the face she loved so much, she couldn’t even pay attention to the dance steps. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things she wanted to ask. Part of her was wondering how it was possible that he was back after five years, and looking so different. But another part of her was ignoring all the questions, and only wished to hold him close and kiss him all over.
An uncomfortable silence began to gradually fill the hall as they danced and people realised who Mallory’s partner was. Not only that it was Michael, and he was back, but the knowledge that this was the new tenant spread around the small crowd like wildfire. One by one, the couples of dancers stopped and stepped back from where they were. By the time the final chords of music were playing, only Mallory, still lost in wonder of the most magnificent surprise in her life, and Michael, hellbent on causing shock, were still moving. The overall atmosphere of the party, as well as the countenance of the bystanders, wouldn’t be out of place if it was a funeral that they were attending.
Misty got Mallory back to stand with the witches once the dance was done, and Michael formally welcomed everyone to the Grange. He gave the shocked crowd a brief explanation of his plans for Hawthorne School for young warlocks, and introduced the Cooperative members. Their guests of honour, and most collaborative patrons, were Lords Pfister and Nutter. But the most surprising addition to the group was the returning Lady Mead and their youngest servant, Madison Montgomery, “Revelation, trollops. I’ll wager you assumed you had laid eyes on me for the last time.”
Michael made no secret of his goals to set the school for warlocks right next to Robichaux’s, the plan was to end the Coven’s supremacy and mark the beginning of a new era in magic, a male dominated world. The unusual gentlemen, Lords Pfister and Nutter, claimed to have money to buy half of Yorkshire if they so desired, and were there simply because they had absolute faith in Michael’s designs. A small group of warlock lords was introduced as the future Hawthorne professors, and seemed unapologetically pleased by the look of shock on the witches’ faces.
During the speech, very slowly, all members of the Coven moved closer to each other, gathering around Lady Cordelia for guidance. The Supreme was listening to everything in silence, her well-trained mind working double time to find a way out of the spider’s web Michael had lured then into. Even Mallory had joined her sisters, no longer marvelling at the miracle of Michael’s return, but terrified of this new air of authority around him and the cold way he exposed his plans, not once glancing at his former lover. Like she wasn’t even there, like she was no one.
Michael noticed the way the Coven moved and, to everyone’s surprise, he was amused by it. “There is no need for fear, my old friends”, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you’re under no immediate danger in my house”, he moved closer to Cordelia, his eyes burning into hers, “I want you to be there and witness when I get everything I want, and leave you with nothing. And when that happens, I want to be the one to watch the light leave your eyes, Lady Supreme”, the two last words dropped from his lips like they were something filthy.
“And now, you all may go, this celebration is over”, and without another word he turned around and disappeared inside of the house, and his governess ushered the many guests outside. Zoe wanted to talk do Madison, but she had already disappeared the same way Michael went, probably readying herself to attend to her Master’s every needs. Cordelia was lost in thought on her way home, she wanted to know now, more than ever, how in hell the boy had escaped that night, even before she understood how he could possibly be back. Misty was also distracted by her own mind, wondering how it was that everything went so badly. She just wanted to avoid the death of Mallory’s lover, how was she supposed to know she was actually unleashing the force that could destroy the Coven once and for all.
All members of the Coven arrived at the manor like soldiers in the aftermath of a terrible battle, even though the war was just getting started and the casualties hadn’t even begun yet. Tired as they were, no one could retire to their rooms without discussing what had just happened. Mallory told them as fast as she could that she had helped Michael escape five years before. No one was surprised, even Cordelia looked at her like she had always known. Misty was thankful Mallory hadn’t mentioned her help, but couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. None of them could have predicted the fury with which Cordelia responded, definitely not Misty.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?? The evil you’ve unleashed upon the world?? Upon ourselves??”, Cordelia’s face was red and she could hardly breath. Myrtle was the one to breath some sense into this unusually heated Cordelia “They don’t, my darling child, they very obviously don’t. We thought some secrets were better off being kept from the Coven, but like every other of your Lady Mother’s ideas, this might as well have been a mistake.” Now it was Misty’s turn to get offended at her paramour’s lack of trust in the Coven “You kept your mother’s secrets from the Coven? Even... from me??”, there were tears in sweet Misty’s eyes when she asked these questions. “Lady Cordelia, how could you? After what your mother had done... you still kept her secrets from us. And, even worse, secrets that could put us in danger!”, Zoe Benson’s usually sweet tones were a little higher with shock.
Cordelia’s anger subsided under the offended look she received from everyone else. It was time. They had the right to know, specially Mallory. With a heavy heart the Supreme began to tell the story of a boy born from evil, the son of the Devil himself. Of a mother who died in childbirth, and a grandmother who didn’t know what to do with a child so special in the darkest way possible. Of how Lady Constance trusted her grandson to Lady Fiona and the Coven, knowing the witches would be able to raise the boy while keeping his evil nature in check. And how it seemed to be working fine, until a certain follower of Satan knew about the boy and his powers. “Now I don’t know what his plans are in the long run, but now we know it begins with getting rid of us and creating the rise of Warlocks...”, Cordelia ended her story with a tired sigh.
The room was silent as a tomb. Only Myrtle Snow had heard this story before, everyone else was shocked beyond their wits. “When you say Son of the Devil, you mean...”, Misty asked when she found her voice again. “Not the Christian devil, my child”, said Myrtle, “he was conceived during the festival of Samhain, his father was the dark god of the underworld, the Horned God, the one who should never have offspring”. Every witch knew about it. When the veil between worlds is thin, and the dark god roams the Earth, it is no time to bring children into this world, “What kind of dark soul would chose to be reincarnated during the festival of darkness?”, Misty was talking more to herself than anyone else. Cordelia told them that Michael’s mother had been tricked into laying with the Dark One, and she had paid for it with her life. No mother has ever survived the birth of a Samhain child.
Even though it made everything else in Michael’s life make sense knowing who he really was, not a single member of the Coven had considered this hypothesis before. But no one was more destroyed by this new piece of information than Mallory. For her, it was like the very fabric of truth had been torn apart, nothing else in her life made sense anymore. The one she loved more than her own life had been conceived and born cursed. For the first years of his life, the Coven tried to make sure the darkness in him remained dormant, but it had found a way to come out. It would always find a way. She thought that her love had made her try and save him five years before, but now how could she know it wasn’t another trick from the dark god to keep his son safe? Giving him a guardian angel inside de very Coven that was supposed to protect the world from him.
Mallory feared she had just been a plaything, manipulated by the dark forces to make sure their designs were fulfilled. Michael himself wouldn’t know, the evil in him would have made him seduce her, entice her, and made sure she’d do anything to save him... but this was ridiculous. She knew it wasn’t true just as the thoughts were forming inside her head. They didn’t love each other because of his darkness, it was in spite of it. Whatever light there was in Michael, it came from their love. And she knew their feelings were pure and real, even if nothing else was. That’s when the unfairness of it all dawned on her. That Lady Cordelia and Myrtle Snow had kept Michael’s dark secret from her, as well as from the rest of the Coven, all this time.
“How could you keep that from us? From all of us?”, it was Misty who was voicing Mallory’s thoughts. And everyone else in the room was looking at their leaders with accusing eyes. “I thought I was protecting you”, Lady Cordelia said simply, her voice weak. “Lady Fiona thought no one would agree to keep the boy in the Manor if anybody knew”, said Myrtle, “and I have reasons to believe she had a plan when she agreed to take care of him. I believe she thought he could be useful to her, somehow...”, she ended with the slightest shrug. “Who else knew?”, Zoe’s sweet voice had turned cold. “We don’t know how, but clearly Lady Mead knew”, Cordelia answered Zoe’s question while staring at Mallory, honest curiosity in her eyes.
Yes, it was clear for Mallory as well now, that Lady Mead knew exactly what she was doing when she offered to teach Michael how to use his powers. And in that moment Mallory knew it wasn’t chance that had brought the strange woman to the Grange. It became clear for her that Lady Mead knew who Michael was and where to find him. And that’s what had brought her there. And after Mallory and Misty had helped him escape, he went away with the lady, and continued with his lessons, went on developing his powers. So the Michael that was tenant in the old Thrushcross Grange now was far more powerful than the one who had run away into the night all those years before.
Misty lifted her head high and refused to apologise for helping Michael escape. She would never have done that if she knew the whole truth about the boy. Whatever she did, she did it for Mallory, and it was the best she could have done with what she knew. Mallory. All the eyes in the room had fallen upon the sweet young witch, who was still trying to process what she had learned in the past few hours. They knew she was the Coven’s only chance. The only person in the world who could plead with Michael, asking him to spare the witches. But would she? Would she walk alone into the lion’s den and negotiate with the king? Would she be willing to face her long-lost lover, who was now back for blood? Lady Cordelia had voiced those doubts, and now the entire Coven looked at Mallory, holding their breaths waiting for her answer.
“Yes. I’ll go.”
Taglist: @blakewaterxx @ccodyfern @certifiedmoth @consultingsnowqueen @crossdressingpirate @hecohansen31 @kalam22 @kirchnvrs @lathraios @laying-with-the-devil @mega-combusken @michael-langdon-appreciation @mvllorylvngdon @mytrash-mylife @no-need-for-rules @nuke-em-from-orbit @queen-of-quotes @rosegoldrichie @sophiegracejreylo @suspirateux @tayfinities @touch-in-the-night @wvntersldr @xavierplympton
16 notes · View notes
witchqueenofthemoon · 6 years ago
Text
GIVE ME MY SIN AGAIN Part 1
Millory Forbidden Love/Alternate Timeline AU
Inspired by this moodboard @ghostwithangeleyes made. In this hypothetical timeline Mallory went back in time to a period after Michael grew up in the hopes that she can still help redeem him from evil; Michael is in the process of creating the Cooperative but this is before the apocalypse/bombs. She and Michael develop a fascination with one another; while Michael attracts a following as the son of Satan, Mallory has been trying to fight her desire for him and throwing herself into her studies at Miss Robichaux’s, hoping she can find some kind of spell to ward off the worst. But the grip of desire is strong; and one day she receives a secret message, ardent and imploring, from an admirer who can no longer stand to watch her from the shadows…
Not sure how long it’s going to be at this point. Two or three parts planned so far. I might switch POVs between Mallory and Michael for each part; this one is Mallory’s POV.
PART ONE
Mallory closed the door to her room behind her, as quietly as she could, hoping against hope none of her sisters had noticed her in the hall. She had to read the note alone; it was imperative that no one saw her with it. It had been tucked into the inner pocket of her satchel bag; when she’d left the cafe, she’d reached into it for a mint and her hand closed around the thick piece of parchment instead. Her heart had thudded with surprise, disbelief; she’d noticed no one around her who she knew, had gone through her bag that morning and the paper had not been there. She swallowed slowly, suddenly afraid. Dare she even hope? She thought of the way Michael’s impossibly intense blue eyes had gazed at her when she’d accompanied Miss Cordelia to Hawthorne’s two months ago; the firelight had flickered over his soft lips and angular jaw, his golden curls, and she knew he was staring at her, an invisible but deeply powerful line extending in that instant between them, as if he felt the future she had come from. What, what is it? She wanted to ask him. How can you look at me that way? As if somehow she were naked in front of him and he was mesmerized. But indeed, he was mesmerized. He was fascinated. He had smiled at her, what a beautiful, terrible smile, as though he’d bitten into a ripe fruit and the juice was running from his mouth; somehow obscene and achingly erotic, and she had blushed deeply, looking down. When she dared look back up at him, he was staring still, and even in a room full of warlocks and witches, she knew he only saw her; somehow, she just knew.
She’d felt him in her mind.
Hello. I’m Michael. Who are you? What’s your name? Please tell me.
She’d covered her mouth to stifle the gasp; Cordelia was preoccupied deep in conversation with Ariel, and she had not noticed her protege’s disbelief. Somehow, he was inside her, somehow, she could hear him as clearly as if he were whispering in her ear, though they were on opposite sides of the cavernous front hall. How could he do this? He’d not been able to in the future she came from; the threads of time seemed to be shifting in a different direction, and she was lost in the shift.
She had answered him with a boldness and curtness she had not necessarily felt; Mallory. Get out of my head.
How else can I tell you how beautiful you are, here in this crowd?
She had tried to swallow the lump that rose in her throat with immediacy; she felt stunned. This Michael had to be an extremely powerful warlock to intrude into her thoughts this way; even more powerful than he had been at the other time, in that other timeline.
That’s bold of you.
I can see only such boldness would be a match for a witch as powerful as you are. I’ve never seen anything like it, the power coiled inside of you. It’s amazing. You are truly my equal. Mallory; whatever are you? You’re wondrous.
She had not known how to reply, even in her head, at that. Her powers were something even she felt she barely understood; the things she felt compelled to do without thinking about them, the spells she performed, she had not been taught. She just knew them, like she’d been born with their incantations seared into her bones. And as Michael spoke into her mind, she felt he knew the origin of those powers from her, and it made her cold and hot at the same time; freezing with her fear of her own nature, desperately trying to block him from knowing where she had come from--the future, the future to destroy him--burning in the intensity of his impossibly blue eyes, caught there like a small animal in a fiery trap.
But he had not seen it that day, it seemed--he seemed entirely distracted by her, Mallory herself, and what she saw in his eyes was not mistrust or suspicion, but fascination, intoxicated cupidity, yearning, a rapturous want.
Michael’s true nature had come about later to the Coven, of course; she had not spoken to him again before it was revealed that he was the Destructor, the son of the Devil. In her bed at night, she thought of the way he had caressed her mind, and shuddered in the desire she felt; to want such a cruel person, she could not reconcile. Hadn’t she come back with Tempus Infinitum to destroy him? But she also knew that despite this terrible outward self, Michael had a glowing hidden nature of goodness, for she had seen it when he melded into her mind, as quickly and softly as a bird’s fluttering wing. And as she had hoped to save him rather than kill him--as she had stayed here, in the past--she felt also that killing him was something she could no longer do, now that she had seen the light in him.
And now, weeks later, she knew who the letter was from.
Her hands trembled as she lifted the folded, thick paper; her eyes couldn’t help but move to the bottom, and there she saw his name, and her heart lept. Yours alone, Michael.
Mallory,
I’ve tried not to think of you; you’re a witch in the coven of my sworn enemy, this I know, and yet, I can no longer fight what I feel. I have to see you, or I think I’ll die. On the night of the full moon, two days from now, there will be an infernal ball at the home of a rich patron of my Father. I’ve written its address below. Wear a gown and a mask; you will be safer this way, harder to spot in the crowd of those who would do you ill if they knew you. I will not let you come to any harm. I ache to speak to you, to see your sweet face, to touch you if you would allow me, I cannot forget you, you’re burned into my mind like a song that plays again and again and begins to drive me mad. I’m infatuated with you; I think I’m in love with you.
Please come, I beg you. I must see you.
Yours alone, Michael
For two days she paced in agony and nerves back and forth in her room, barely emerging to eat, telling her sisters she was ill. For she was ill; heartsick with the letter that had secretly been tucked into her belongings, heartsick with the ache of his words. To fall in love with the Antichrist--what could she be thinking? And yet she knew it was happening. She had felt that glow of light inside him, knew it was there, could she be the key to coaxing it out of him? She had to try. The letter was a plea for his soul. She knew this in her bones.
She had enchanted her gown; taken a long-sleeved black lace dress that hugged her hips out of her closet, moved her magick through it to create a great, trailing skirt, lacings of crimson red through the chiffon, and she’d shivered as she did it, knowing what she wanted in her heart; his eyes on her again, with that same look, wanton desire. That was what she wanted, and she would bring it forth again, for she ached and hungered for it; she wanted him. He had asked for her; had begged her. She wondered what else he might ask her for, beg her for; every nerve in her body seemed to be vibrating, she wondered if she might just fly out of her skin, her spirit reaching up to touch the huge full moon that hung in the window like a great glowing lamp. She felt unhinged, dizzy at the prospect of seeing him alone; wondered if she could possibly resist him, and she felt, in her dark shadowed hidden heart, that she could not, and did not want to; she wanted to give in, come what may, wanted him, terribly. She had bought a Mardi Gras mask at an occult shop, enchanted it too to make herself appear different under it, to truly mask her nature, a useful charm she seemed to know without having read it in a spellbook. Among Satanists, one could not be too careful. But she knew how to exclude Michael from the spell; she weaved into it the sight for him alone, strong sight to see her, recognize her among strangers.
Her heart seemed to be stuck in her throat as she managed to escape through the back hall of the Academy; with a little distraction spell, she’d glamoured her sisters into indulging in ice cream and magick games in the living area, and she could hear their laughter, Madison’s curt, dry voice rising over Zoe’s soft, calm one, Queenie’s scoff, Coco fussing over the snacks. She felt guilty for using magick on them, but she could not quell the aching of her heart; she’d read Michael’s letter over and over, two dozen times, and her body was vibrating with an intensity that frightened her. She had to see him; there was nothing else to be done.
The house was not a house; the house was a mansion, a palace, belonging to a rich politician who everyone knew by name; a henchman of the Devil. Security wore masks themselves, black and emotionless, as though they were statues, lined on either side of the stairs. Mallory gathered her skirts and ascended the marble steps that led to the double doors, willing herself not to fall or turn and run, and the soundless men pushed them wide for her, asking no questions. They seemed to only half-see her, and their masks betrayed nothing of their feelings or thoughts. The whole of time seemed to be rushing her onwards, towards something she could not yet see.
Inside there was a cacophony of sounds and smells, wild laughter, hundreds of bottles of Perignon stacked to the hundred glittering chandeliers that hung overhead, each one emblazoned with a thousand crystals. Here was riches she had never seen; a wildness hung in the air, a Dionysian chaos seemed to push at her temples, and she felt as though it would force her to the ground; the energy was vibrant, but sinister, evil simmering just beneath the surface. Two staircases rose on either side of a dais that served as the centerpiece of the room; and upon the dais was a gold chair, a chair that was like a throne, embellished with twin horned goats at the arms, and in the chair sat Michael.
His chiseled jaw rested on his curled hand, elbow resting against one of the goat heads; his eyes were far away, a languidness apparent in his body, as though his thoughts were quite distant from the wild party that surrounded him, fixated on something else; she knew, fixated on her, though he had not seen her yet. His gold-chestnut hair curled around his sublimey handsome face, his full lips, straight nose and heavy-lidded blue-gray eyes, dusted with blood red shadow. A long gold chain hung against the deep blacks he wore, coat made of velvet, shirt of silk with a high collar, and the pendant was the infernal pentagram, sign of his Father. He wore long black leather boots that came to his upper thigh, one foot straight, the other at an angle, his legs slightly parted, disinterested, discontent. His pants were leather, outlining his strong thighs and his manhood with subtle salacity. He truly looked like the son of the Devil; Michael was the Prince of Darkness, profane in his unearthly beauty.
His eyes scoured the room, and she fought the urge to hide. She rested against a nearby table, brimming with sweet meats and verdant fruits and a hundred bottles of wine, feeling immediately dizzy with their rich scent. She reached out to a glass of richest carmine, bringing it to her lips in desperation, drinking it down in a fury of nerves. When she had finished, opening her eyes again (she had not noticed she’d shut them as she drank, in her nervousness), she knew; his eyes were on her now. He had seen her. She felt him.
She looked up slowly, darkly shadowed eyelids fluttering--and was immediately mesmerized by the power in his blue ones, boring into her. He had shifted, his body tense now, upright, coiled; at long last what he so desired was here. Mallory, he breathed the outline of her name, she saw his lips move, felt him in the crevices of her thoughts. You came.
A tremor seemed to move through the earth between them.
Meet me outside. In the garden; through the side-door. She saw his head cock slightly to the left; moving her eyes only, she saw the glass french doors and the trees and plants beyond, illuminated by moonshine. Gulping, the taste of the rich red wine still coating her throat, she replied in her mind: Yes. Come quickly.
She saw his eyes flash; felt a rush of hotness that came from the core of his body, falling over her like a wave. She had thrilled him; she had kindled a rush of hope and fervor in him with her words. Come quickly. Come to me.
She looked away from him, though she could feel the intensity of his eyes follow her as she moved to the door; the guests seemed not to notice her, wrapped up in their wild revelry, screaming with laughter, intoxicated with their own lusts. She pushed through the glass door, and the night air enveloped her with its nectars and scents, and she breathed deeply, gasping, the evil aura of the house lifted off her in a fell swoop. She moved out into the courtyard there, a fountain in the center, featuring a marble visage of the Baphomet, Horned One, water cascading from His upright hands. This place belonged to Michael’s Father, and she felt the danger of it, the seething energy of darkness. It wasn’t just the wine she’d drunk; it was this place that made her intoxicated. It was Michael; and not just his light. His blackness, his void, it wanted to pull her in, devour her in ecstacy. She looked up at the face of the moon, feminine and knowing, white and wild and serene, and whispered a silent prayer to it: blessed Goddess, help me save him. Blessed mother, maiden, crone, help me to pull the light out of him. For I love him.
“You are extraordinary,” a voice, his voice, breathed from the shadows that held nightshade and belladonna, sweet hanging flowers, lemon trees. “I’ve never seen anyone as luminous as you. Never.”
“Michael,” before she even knew she had murmured his name. Her hands came up to her stomach, knotted there, as if to keep her heart from falling down into it, to keep her breath from vanishing from her lungs. She turned towards where his voice came from, turned her back on the moon. “You asked me to come. But I...I don’t know if I should have.”
He lingered in the shadow for another moment, and she could feel his impossibly blue eyes as if he were touching her with them, could feel them searching under her skin, could see the moonlight shimmering on his golden curls, around the crimson smoke of his eyelids. “I am so glad that you did. I don’t have words for how happy you’ve made me, Mallory...”
He stepped out from the shadows, and though she’d seen him in the resplendent light of the hundred crystal chandeliers of the banquet hall, he seemed even more beautiful now; seemed inhuman, like the portrait of an angel cast down from god’s light, terrible in his beauty, frightening her with such intensity of desire she felt a wild laugh bubble under her lips. He scared her badly, and she wanted him more than anything she’d ever wanted. So much that it made a sparkle of madness burst through her thoughts; so much that she stopped breathing for a moment, frozen in his openly lustful gaze.
He continued to step towards her until he stood a mere foot away, the moon scattering over his tall form; he reached out, slowly but with intention, and his long fingers, much larger than hers, brushed against the back of her hand and arm, still clutched to her stomach. She shivered. His mouth was open ever-so-slightly, and a curl of gold had fallen across his brow, eyes dazzling her like a storm’s path through an inky sky.
“May I touch you?”
He whispered this, fingers hovering above where he’d already grazed her arm, and she felt every fine hair there standing on end; she felt as though she’d been touched with a brand there, burned to an ecstatic edge. She could see the way her hair shimmered in front of her bosom, a tiny shuddering, and knew she was shaking. Her head came only to his shoulders, so she had to look up into his face, her cheeks burning. He was suddenly so close, but his hands still hovered just above her skin; he waited, as if he were a bird of prey about to snatch some tiny creature in a moment, and time seemed to stop as her lips parted, red and aching.
Her voice was quiet, but firm. “Yes. Touch me.”
His hands were strong, she could feel the muscle ripple through his arm, but he was gentle at first. He laid one over the hands she still had clasped against her belly, and the other he laid, hot as scalding water and just as fluid, against her waist, above the curve of her hip but below the curve of her breast, almost reaching to the small part of her back, and she gasped, she could not stop herself. He looked down into her liquid hazel eyes, his head cocked ever-so-slightly, the overwhelming musk of his body enveloping her, and they both felt it; they felt the earth moving; felt time grinding gears down to an impossible halt, felt the hand of fate settle on them, heavy as death, breathtaking as a starry night sky, full to bursting with the weight of countless universes. Destiny paused.
They stood that way, both breathing quietly against each other, savoring the smell and heat of each other.
“Michael,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”
She saw the flash of his eyes; a sort of crescendo, felt the heat ripple off of him like the burst of a bonfire; felt the invisible line between them tighten and curl inward, and then suddenly his full lips were on hers and his mouth was open and he tasted like the cold night air and the damp earth and the hot harshness of ash and the scent of dark roses and a small moan escaped from her, involuntary and immediately drunk on him, his hands were on her throat, scalding her with a rushing tide of sensation, each print of his fingers a harsh pearl pressing into her skin, needy to be closer, to be inside her. Her hands came around the velvet of his coat, and she could feel the strength of his body and bones beneath it, and she couldn’t stop it; she pressed herself against him, her laces blending against his silks and velvet until they could feel the shiver of each other’s skin beneath. He turned his head the better to taste her, his tongue slipping against hers, and she opened her mouth to let him in, her heart ramming into her ribs, threatening to burst free. His hands moved from her sensitive neck to her hair, his beautiful long hands, cradling the base of her skull, holding her mouth against his with ardent immediacy. They broke free from each other, gasping, and she could feel him shivering in her arms, too.
“Mallory, I...I have wanted to do that since I first saw you...I--”
She shushed him, lifting her face to his again, capturing his bottom lip in her mouth, causing his words to bleed into a groan that thrilled her. His terrible beauty had softened in her arms; she could see his eyes glimmering with moisture, the fine cascade of his lashes, the outline of tawny gold stubble on his jaw, the nervous bobbing of his throat; this dark prince was in her arms and she was intoxicated with the desire she could feel coming off him into her on waves of strong magick, a powerful spell they seemed only half-aware they were weaving. She could see tiny flashes of his thoughts, somehow; could see his dream of laying her down under the lemon trees and kissing her to nakedness, kissing her between the folds between her legs at the sweetness of her clit, and she felt wetness gather there with immediacy, her lust quickening.
They heard voices approaching; wild, laughing, reveling voices. Coming their way.
She saw Michael’s eyes go wide with worry as he pulled away from her, felt his strong hands grab hold under her arms and push her, gently, away from him. She felt immediately cold and sorrowful; to be torn so abruptly from the blistering shadow of his energy was like being cut from a warm cocoon, and she hated it.
“Go, they musn’t see us, not yet...Mallory, I will come to you, tomorrow, after nightfall--”
She rushed to his face and kissed him quickly, once, twice, three times, and his tongue tangled against hers, and she felt an ache such as she’d never felt before, like she was leaving part of her soul behind with him, like she would never be whole again now, and a dreadful, wonderful hand grasped at her heart; his hands, large, hot, long-fingered, scorching her heart, scarring it forever.
“Tomorrow--” she whispered against him, and his hand fell on the incline of her jaw, the space between her mouth and her ear, and pulled her face to him so her cheek clashed against his lips and he placed a burning kiss there that she felt she would feel always, tattooed in the blush that bloomed there. They let go of each other, and she turned and ran as the voices grew louder, and she heard them call out Michael’s name, “Lord, prince, there you are, your infernal presence was missed--”
And then the moon went behind a great cloud, and she ran in darkness, feeling as though she were on fire.
24 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 3 months ago
Text
(( @stcrmborne cont. from [x]))
The mental image of Rhaya grabbing a dragon by the scruff of the neck and shaking it admonishingly made Michael laugh out loud for a good few seconds - the kind of laugh that comes out through your nose first because you don't even have time to open your mouth - and he had to put down the knife he'd been holding for a moment.
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but no." He said once he'd managed to regain (most) of his composure. "If he really isn't interested in anything more, I don't want to pressure him into it." Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he could just imagine Haaruma indignantly flaring her hood at the self-depreciation. He hadn't intended it to sound that way, but now that he thought it back, he could hear it, and he didn't like it, either.
"N-not that I don't think he does!" Michael hurried to add, his hands moving to fiddle nervously before remembering that he was holding a sharp blade and putting it down on the cutting board next to the half-chopped vegetables he'd been preparing for later that night. "I just want it to be his own decision, is all."
5 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 7 months ago
Text
Another bandit attempted to strike while his companion was still collapsing in front of Eliyen with a gurgling death rattle, but even as he began to swing his blade the very air seemed to open up in a blue disk to swallow him up. The bandit reappeared several feet away, facing the wrong direction and still swinging; his momentum powered his blade clean through the bow and hand of another bandit, to the shock of both of them.
Up above on the ledge, Michael closed the portal with a satisfied flick of his wrist.
He could, quite literally, do that all day, but the longer the battle went on, the higher the chances of his companion being injured or overrun would rise, and he couldn't risk that. Instead, he three orbs of whitish blue magic sparked to life in his palm. He threw them towards the fight as if he were scattering sand, and the orbs burst into winged forms. Sailing across the distance to battle, each form seemed to choose a bandit at random and pulled into a sharp dive; they slammed into their targets with little sound and disappeared in a puff of blue smoke, but knocked the unfortunate assailants back and nearly off their feet.
Up above on the ledge, Michael took a deep breath as the last of the eldritch blast faded away.
That one had a limit, but at least it was effective for crowd control.
Tumblr media
"Darling, you're not gonna risk your life for me. I'm not gonna let you."
[prompt from here]
Tumblr media
12 notes · View notes
nat20persuassion · 5 years ago
Text
Dox the Changeling
After months of playing, the adventures of Dox the Changeling Figher is coming to a close. One of my campaigns I’m currently involved in I am the DM for, but because I’m a co-DM, we came to an agreement. We can play as a PC, but the other DM makes all the DM rulings for them. So if Dox gets a magic item, my co-DM decides what she gets. This character, despite being the basic ol’ fighter, has been one of my favorite characters.
Dox is a female Changeling raised in an Underdark temple by a Shadar-Kai after her parents were persecuted and killed on the charges of simply being Changelings. In that temple, she was raised with a strong sense of justice yet knowing when the law is unjust. Despite not being religious, she does worship the Raven Queen as that is who her godmother worshipped and sees the Shadowfell goddess as her patron. There has always been one problem with her body, though. One that keeps her from staying in her Changeling form even if she’s with people she trusts; she’s mute. She was born with disfunctional vocal chords that only work after she transforms, thus replacing her vocal chords.
Once she grew older and learned how to use her main weapon, a silver wood longbow, she disguised herself as a Human male named Julius Michael and joined the worlds largest military. Going through boot camp and showing her unmatched prowess with her arcane arrows, she was put in a squad of strange people, but none more strange than the head of the squadron; Genus, a Warforge built by the military for combat with a wild magic crystal built into him for magic usage (one of our other PCs).
They traveled together for years, rising the ranks and the two of them became heroes after a large war fought between three neighboring countries. However, they weren’t without sin or fault. Due to the chaos of the wild magic core built into him, Genus has two personalities that switch when under mental stress or at dawn; one a genuine hero who wants nothing more than to save others, the other a blood hungry psychopath who killed all in his way. They traveled together, and she covered any of his tracks and hid any of his misdeeds from their commanders. That was, at least, until one vital battle where the two were presumed killed in action. Really, they went over enemy lines and stayed there. Reason? Unknown. She just followed him as he was her commanding officer and her only real friend. She acted as his diplomat thanks to her smooth talking and easy lying. That all changed when a mishap occurred, a domino that lead her to where she is now. While performing in the capital of a nearby country, Genus’ wild magic went off, killing countless people. Genus and “Julius” were thrown in the royal dungeon.
That is where they showed up in the campaign.
After some new, questionable characters were thrown in the same prison, they realized it was the perfect time for a jailbreak. With a Luxodon breaking through a cell and beginning to fight the guards, they saw their chance. Genus began using a combination of wild magic and acid splash to melt through the bars while Julius waited for his chance. Upon getting through, he recruits the help of Marcus, a Moth-Folk (a homebrew race I made for my friend) Ranger to join them on their escape. Upon seeing Julius, Marcus instantly fell in love with him. However, the feeling was not completely reciprocated, as Dox didn’t understand sexual feelings, due to being raised in a religious area then being only with a Warforged for her whole life (this is how I explained her being asexual). They then recruited a Luxodon Barbarian who simply went by “Big”, the same one who started the prison break. Upon killing the guards and getting their gear, they left to the throne room, meeting a Tiefling Warlock/Bard who was disguised as a Moon Elf due to the genocide of Tieflings the world had (This was simply because I adopted this campaign from a friend cause she stopped showing up and she was like super against demons and devils so I added this but then proceeded to not give a shit). This Tiefling was their only way out of the castle, so they traded a secret for their freedom, showing the “Moon Elf” her true form. Upon making a shaky agreement, they fled the castle.
After leaving the castle, they went into the forest, tracking down a Druid named Lucy and a Kobold Rogue/Monk named Fae (two characters our players previously played) because the Tiefling had items to get from them. After traveling into the woods, they found them and received the items, getting a magic staff and a set of elven chain for herself and letting the Warlock have what she wanted. This, though, is where they met a very shady individual. A Half-Drow Half-Elf named Francis had killed Fae for a gemstone on her body. (Francis was a Thaumaturg, a homebrew class the person playing him, who is also my co-DM, has made who uses gems to store essence and use that to do many many things, however, they are very fraile and very rare). This Francis, little did they know, had very sinister plans for the world. He planned on opening portals to every plane at once, causing a massive war. Of course, he did not tell them and they did not pry. He was being watched very closely by the rest of the group and so they went on, moving steadily back towards Dox and Genus’ home kingdom.
Upon entering a small farming town on the other side of the border of the two countries, they rested for free for the night due to Dox and Genus’ status as heroes. This is where they met another shady individual who would’ve been killed on the spot had it not been for Genus falling for her and her love of fire; Arakos Nephira, a Tiefling Phoenix Soul Sorcerer who didn’t want anything but to watch the world burn (this character was also played by me, as she was a running joke between my friend playing Marcus, my co-DM and I and a returning character from a previous campaign that us three were in). After upgrading her longbow and getting information from the blacksmith, the party left towards a mining town north of the capital.
They went immediately into the gem mines after entering the mining town, as Francis had been insistent for them to go there. Much to their surprise, though, the mines instead of being full of miners and gems, housed a temple to a goddess and cult they had been hunting were in. Not just any temple, though. The main temple housing the head of the cult. Upon entering the building, the combined efforts of Francis, Marcus, Dox, and especially Arakos destroyed the cultist.
After killing the cult leader, Dox decided they deserved a break, so they went up to the beach. (This was a casual session where not much happened but I wanted to do it to establish relationships). There, they drank and relaxed but, most importantly for herself, Dox began showing signs of liking Marcus back. Francis and the Warlock had left well before for “unknown reasons” with Genus later following out of suspicion. Right before they could leave the beach, however, they were attacked by a water elemental. This foe proved to be quite great, with Big going down against it, mainly because of Arakos but that’s beside the point. However, Dox and her mastery of the bow was able to finish the beast and they left.
(This next session I was gone for so Dox and Arakos were out doing things so I’m going to explain what they were doing) After returning to the town and meeting up with Genus, Francis and the Warlock, they all went to the library to gather information. However, before entering, Dox and Arakos got into a fight, ending with Dox being burnt and Arakos having an arrow scar in her shoulder. They were completely unaware of what had been going on inside, with the murder of the Warlock after his evil intentions had been revealed.
This is where the story ends for her for now. There are a few more sessions before we have to call it a temporary end, but those haven’t happened yet. Once we come back from hiatus, depending on the outcome of this campaign, she may be dead when we reveal the setting for the next one. She will either die in the final conflict, or live long enough to see the new party of heroes on their adventure and give them advice.
0 notes
springvaletales · 1 year ago
Text
The mighty dragon tried once again to free himself, heaving with all his strength against his prison. But the rocks held firm, and no matter how his claws tore at the earth - turning soil and stone alike - he could not slip free. With a frustrated huff that shook the trees nearby, the young brass dragon slumped his body to the ground, leaving his lower half still trapped in the hillside tunnel he’d tried to squeeze through.
Nearby, just outside the reach of scraping claws, a figure shifted their position on a roadside fence rail, and leaned their elbows over their knees.
“I told you you couldn’t fit through like that.” Michael said with a smirk he didn’t bother to hide. The dragon narrowed yellow eyes at the amused human, and snorted in his direction.
“Oh, shut up….” Vashael grumbled irritably.
25 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 7 months ago
Text
@deaddoveadventures
"No-one has ever accused me of making smart decisions." Michael tried to sound cheerful, even through his gritted teeth. He never got used to the pain, though he liked to think he had a decent tolerance for it. Death was better most of the time. At least death was over with quickly.
"Yeah, yeah...I've got something that should work." The human was only half-listening to the other as he reached back with his good arm and gingerly felt around the wound. At least it felt like the point of the arrow had made it through to the other side of his shoulder. That meant that he could try to break the tail off of the shaft and pull the rest of it through, rather than try to carefully (and painfully) wiggle the arrow back out the way it had gone in.
"Can you, uh-." Would it be better to leave the arrow in place and just hike home? The town walls were only an hour or two down the road, and someone needed to alert the guard. Where there was one goblin, there was always more. "Did the arrow go all the way through?"
5 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 7 months ago
Text
"Yeah...some of the locals around here are a bit, uh...wary of new faces." Michael offered a sympathetic frown. There were still a few people around Springvale who treated him that way, and he'd been there nearly three years now. Some folk just never adjusted to seeing strangers around town, tourism or no. "But apart from the staring, they should leave you alone." He started to step backwards and gave Tobi a small smile as he left. "I'll be right back with your drink, sir."
The human moved back across the floor to the bar, where he had a short conversation with a black-scaled Dragonborn busy washing glasses. The Dragonborn dried off his hands and turned around to grab a few specific bottles off the tall shelves behind the bar, and shook his head as the human moved further down the counter to work. After a few minutes of pouring and stirring, Michael returned the bottles to the Dragonborn, and headed back for Tobi's table.
"This," He explained as he set the clear glass of a pale yellow liquid on the table in front of Tobi. "Is a Citrus Dragon. Locally made honey mead with a dash each of rum and bourbon, with a topping of dried rose petals and a secret ingredient harvested from the Aubergine Forest just outside of town." A small haze of bubbles still sizzled in the glass, slowly rising from the sides of the ice chunks to gather beneath a thin layer of small, reddish petals floating on the surface.
"It might not look so tough at first glance, but it's pretty strong." Michael promised as he stood back. "The owner has a limit of three per night," He grinned. "Or just one if you're already drunk."
Places like this weren't his scene at all, too many people, too few exists, and not enough alcohol to make the situation easier.
The tavern was fairly busy, though Tobi was managing to scare off any unwanted guests at his table. He hated having to meet people in places like this, but understood why folks were hesitant to go meet in a forest.
He sat, he waited, and he wondered why his old friend had asked him to go meet one of hers. Details were fuzzy, but he agreed anyways.
"One more drink, then I'll leave." The half-orc sighed to himself "I'll kick her ass if this friend doesn't show."
@springvaletales
10 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 2 months ago
Text
((cont from [x]))
@wanderingarcherviola
"Muffins with berries, eh? I've got plenty of those." Michael set the basket down on the edge of the table, mindful of the papers Viola had spread about. "I had some trouble sleeping last night, so I decided that if I was going to be awake anyway, I might as well bake.
"It didn't help me sleep, but it saved the opening kitchen crew about two hours of work."
2 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
((To make up for the fact that I haven't finished my drafts yet, here's a bunch of picrews I did of the party (as best they would fit) for motivation.))
4 notes · View notes
springvaletales · 3 months ago
Text
While he isn't afraid of them, Michael does get very nervous around clerics and those with any kind of religious authority. The only exception seems to be Naoka, who he seems perfectly relaxed around despite her being a priestess of Skaadi (albeit a roaming one).
3 notes · View notes