#up next: Myrina!

[starswornoaths]

2. Horizon

Myrina never fully learned how to make connections with the people closest to her. Never quite learned how to open up the door to her heart all the way without them having to let themselves in.

It is well that those that love her knock anyway. Would that she could let them know her. When her daughter stumbles upon a piece of Myrina's past, she will have to settle for a half truth as an end result.

word count: 3,628

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Myrina had lived in the Shroud long enough to know that thunderstorms posed a particular threat here—with the tree canopy so dense as to blot out the sun in most places, even the scent of rain on the wind was enough for most villages to begin to prepare for the worst case scenario. 

Local volunteer firefighters and town watchtowers would remain on high alert, ready with countermeasures should lightning strike the treeline. As ever, she would be among them, covering the older trees and thatching rooves even as the storm so often caught them in the middle of their preparations.

On one such afternoon, a particularly brutal storm swept through their little Elmvale. The trees offered little and less protection from the rain pratically pelting the firefighters in horizontal sheets as they wrestled with the howling wind. Visibility was shot: even in the shade of the canopy, the tumultuous clouds overhead made it almost dark as night.

But the day was relatively kind, for all their efforts: but a single lightning bolt struck through the canopy and burned a hole large enough to fit a chocobo through before they had managed to smother the flames but beyond that, the village suffered no lasting damage.

That hole in the canopy line became something of a fascination for Myrina’s children even into the next day, after the smoke had thinned and the skies had begun to clear.

“Bet Rhalgr sent it,” her son, Uthengentle chirped as he hopped from one puddle to the next.

They were making a game of it; from what Myrina could parse, they were avoiding anywhere that wasn’t a puddle.

“The lightning?” asked her daughter, Serella, as she jumped after him.

“Yeah! That’s like his whole thing!” Uthengentle said with a pump of his fist in the air on his next leap. “He sends stuff like that down all the time! That’s what my Pops used to say! I bet it was a message!”

At that, Serella stood still in the next puddle she landed on and turned her head toward the newly formed gap in the treeline. Gray, overcast sky peered in on the village with its cosmic indifference from through the lingering smoke trails.

“Whoa,” she whispered, eyes wide in awe.

Even later that evening, with supper sorted and everyone settled in, Myrina still caught her daughter peering out of the window in the upstairs hallway, staring out toward the burned away boughs. It took little and less to shoo her gently to bed. Thus, Myrina slept soundly, certain that her daughter’s curiosity would be sated ere long.

She didn’t see much of Serella the next morning after breakfast, though the overcast day meant the family settled inside, content in their own spaces with only the sounds of fiddling hands to fill the gentle quiet. 

Eventually, though, she heard the telltale march of little feet down the steps sometime in the late afternoon. She couldn’t help but smile at the sound: she knew it was her daughter in the way she jumped with both feet off the last step. It gave her away every time.

But there was a rustle of paper with each step, something Myrina hadn’t anticipated. Serella must have busy making something up in her room.

Sure enough, her daughter’s beautiful head of hair bounced in just above the kitchen table with her expression the very picture of seriousness and a loose sheet of paper fluttering in her grip.

“Have you seen Da?” she asked.

Myrina had in fact seen Hanvesh. He was in the den, likely reading or whittling if the lack of plucking strings was any indicator. But a small part of her felt hurt that she wasn’t asked regarding whatever little mystery their daughter got into this time.

Setting down her screwdriver and the clock she had been repairing, she said, “He might be in the den. Is there something I can help with?”

Alright, maybe a little more than a little hurt.

Her daughter demured at that, staring down at her own feet and shuffling her weight between them. 

“Pro’bly not.” she mumbled at her own socks.

A far larger part of Myrina hurt at that. She fought a wince.

“I might be, you never know!” she tried again with a shaky smile, even as the words felt awkward and too loud.

But she hadn’t known how to connect with her daughter just yet; poor Uthengentle had been easy to bond with because something horrid and unjust had happened to him, too. Serella had no such loss to grapple with, sweet and earnest and untouched by the world as she was. Myrina felt shame that that was what it took for her to connect with either of her children. She felt shame that it was all she had to connect with anyone.

But her daughter’s eyes had never clouded over in haunted memories. In fighting so hard to shelter her daughter, she had made herself a stranger. She knew not how to engage with the unmarred and the innocent, even when they were her blood.

“...Nah, it’s okay. Got to do with stars and stuff, so, uhh...I’ll go check with him. Thanks, Ma!” Serella chirped, ignorant of her mother’s struggle as she skipped out of the kitchen in search of her father.

But it was a small house, just big enough for their little family. It was impossible not to hear them in the next room as she resumed her fiddling.

“I found a new constellation!” Serella told her father.

“A new constellation? You’re certain?” she heard her husband say with the right amount of awe in his voice for a child with a new discovery.

Because he knew how to connect with their children. With anyone. With everyone. Because that was the sort of person he was. He knew all about all kinds of things because he knew just how to ask. 

Myrina didn’t know how to do that. She knew all the same things of people by silent observation, but never learned how to say things softly.

“I checked all the books in the library and all the star charts you gave me, and I didn’t see anything like this!” Serella declared with the sound of paper being smacked onto a table. “I can see it at night through that hole in the trees! Uthen thinks Rhalgr wanted us to see it!”

Myrina could picture her daughter’s face perfectly: she always got this bright gleam in her mismatched eyes when she had a mystery to solve, with a big smile that showed all her little baby teeth in an expression that dared the gods themselves to tell her she couldn’t find the answer.

Serella was her father’s daughter, after all.

The screwdriver Myrina had in her hand was far too large for the next step in repairs. She busied herself with finding one of her smaller tools in her bag.

“That’s quite the effort—well, now.” Hanvesh mused with the sound of shuffling paper.

In her mind’s eye, Myrina was sat across from her husband in the den, watching the way his brow would quirk the way it always did when something caught his attention. His head would always angle toward the opposite side as the eyebrow that arched, without fail, and she could see the way it tilted in that moment he picked up the paper and examined it.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this star pattern ‘afore in all my life, Little Acorn!” he said, though Myrina had known him long enough to tell when he was hiding something. “Say, do you mind if I keep this to take a look for myself later?”

“‘Kay!” she chirped.

That had been the end of it, apparently. Serella ran off to play, and Hanvesh followed not long after, ambling out with his cane thumping in time with him.

A bad pain day, then. Myrina set the pot on the stove and began to brew his medicinal tea for when he came in.

Except she hadn’t even finished steeping it before she heard him head straight for the kitchen.

She turned just in time to see Hanvesh join her, still holding that paper in his free hand. His expression was a queer one; it hovered somewhere between serious and playful, in that strange liminal space he occupied when he intended to butter her up for something important.

As if he needed to.

“You’ll never guess what our daughter has discovered,” Hanvesh said conversationally. 

“A new constellation, by all accounts.” Myrina answered plainly.

At that, he snorted a laugh and said, “Aye, that’s what she believes. But would you believe me if I told you you’d recognize it better than I?”

As he asked this, he revealed the drawing on the paper: less a sketch and more a series of scribbled stars, one for each light she saw through the treeline.

Far too many to be a constellation; easily over a dozen dots, all arranged in a strange pyramid.

“Says she saw these after that storm the other day. Funny, the angle from the village points north, too far out to be the Shroud—”

Ah. Myrina might have known. Little wonder why she would need “buttering up,” then.

“Not a constellation, then.” she sighed and handed the paper back.

Hanvesh did not take it from her. “It’d be good to hear it from you, you know. What it really is.”

Who you really are, he did not add.

Of course it would be. If she knew how to do that. If she knew how to be a mother and a partner and a person—

“I don’t know, meri jaan,” she said around a heavy sigh.

She hadn’t even finished the exhale before he reached for her hands, gentle and sweet, as he leaned on his good leg to press close.

“Would it be so horrible if she knew her mother, mon cœur?” he asked, not unkindly and half into her cheek before he planted a kiss there.

If anyone would understand why Myrina might insist that yes, it would be so horrible, it would be her husband. That he would ask regardless meant he didn’t intend to let this go.

That it was important enough not to. That it mattered.

“I shan’t say a word,” he promised her, and when he squeezed her hands it became clear she had hidden her panic poorly. “Ultimately, it is your story to tell, mon cher.”

There was never a time he left her side without a kiss to her forehead, and this time was no exception. Cane in hand, he began to make his way back to the study.

Hovering near the window in the den on his way, he said aloud and certainly to no one in particular, “Methinks the sky’ll clear ‘round sunset, give or take a bell or two.”

He left it at that. She hated that he had, just a little, even as she knew he had the right of it.

Hanvesh had made rabbit stew out of her catch that night for dinner, and their little ones had been eager to help her make bread. 

The conversation at the dinner table never veered toward Serella’s “constellation,” lively as ever though it was. It was nice, always, to sit and watch her family happily chatter about their day. To bask in the warmth they exuded, the warmth they folded her into. 

But her thoughts were malms away from the table in that moment. Despite not having set foot there in almost a decade, a massive gate of wrought iron and stone cast a looming shadow over her thoughts. 

Realistically, she knew she could not keep her children from knowing forever—even if she did not tell them, their school would doubtless be covering broader Eorzean maps and history any day now. Though her name would not be there, the shape of the place would be unmistakable, and then the questions would follow; chief among them, the question of the household’s secrecy surrounding it. 

Nay, better to at least try.

There was about a two-bell span in the evening, after the house had gone to sleep, that Myrina knew her daughter would often shove pillows under her blankets and sneak down to the study, where all those star charts and fairytales were within her grasp, with time uninterrupted and free. Doubtless, Serella was eager to be nose-deep in some map or other, still dedicated to her new discovery.

Myrina knew a better mother might try to reign that in, to stamp down a bad habit the moment it was found. But she had been one such child once, scurrying in the shadows of her own home, delighting in the thrill of sneaking without true fear of harm. She could find no good in denying her daughter the chance to befriend the dark.

Tonight, though, she could give her daughter something better: an answer.

As expected, her ears perked at the sound of little feet trying to cling to the sides of the stair steps to reduce their creaking. In an effort to startle her daughter the least, Myrina waited until the footsteps hit the bottom before slipping out .

And, as expected, Serella spun around with such shock that she nearly sent herself to the floor when she met her mother’s eyes from the top of the stairs.

“You’re not in trouble,” she promised her daughter around the lump in her throat, holding up her hands as if to show she was unarmed. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”

Her daughter regarded her with wide eyes, watching her as she closed the distance.

“What do you mean?” Serella asked hesitantly, her whole body already bent in the shape of cornered prey.

Hard not to wince at that, but Myrina managed.

“I heard,” she said, and produced her daughter’s crude star map, “that you found yourself a constellation?”

Serella looked at her own drawing like she was somehow in trouble.

“Well…yeah. I mean,” she said in a halting voice that snagged on her own nerves. “I can’t find it in any of the books or maps I’ve been able to check. It’s up in the sky. What else could it be?”

Before she could talk herself out of it again, Myrina asked, “Would you like to know?”

That got a look of surprise on her daughter’s face, her spine unfurling as the fear left her. 

Then, as though the two of them were conspiring, she leaned in an whispered, “Do you know, Ma?”

At that, Myrina couldn’t help but crack a smile as she motioned with her head toward the front door and said, “Something like that. C’mon— get your shoes, and I’ll show you.”

With that, she led her curious daughter out through the front door and toward the treeline.

When she stopped in front of the tree that had been struck, she peered up through the burned branches.

Had she not known what those little twinkling lights were, she might also have thought they were stars; even with this hole, the trees above hadn’t thinned so much that the sky was in unobscured view.

“This one, right?” she asked, pointing at the gap.

When Serella nodded, Myrina mirrored the gesture, knelt before her daughter, and offered an open arm.

“Here, hang on to me.” Myrina instructed.

When Serella tilted her head in clear confusion, Myrina’s smile returned as she said, “We’re going to fly for just a moment. So hang on tight.”

Gasping and gawking, her daughter scrambled, her little arms wrapping around her shoulders and squeezing. 

For as unfamiliar as she was with laying her heart bare with her children, she knew without conscious thought how to swing her daughter onto her hip, arm wrapped around her like she was a toddler all over again.

It had been a while since Myrina had properly ridden the wind…but dragons never forget how to spread their wings. They who have supped on that selfsame aether were no exception.

Just as well. Short though the trip might have been, it still required a few hops around the dense canopy branches so as to hit the bigger ones, though just before breaking through the treeline, she made sure to wind up her leap as far and as high as she possibly could.

Might as well give her daughter a good view—nay, the best view she could.

Bursting through the treeline felt almost like breaking through the surface of water—for as much as she had come to love Gridania, its dense treeline made it easy to forget the world beyond and above it. It was easy to drown in the leaves. 

Now, though, the whole world stretched out in every direction further than the eye could see. Shaded treetops stretching out as far as they eye could see.

And above that, all, the glittering canopy hung higher than any tree. The stars welcomed her and her daughter into the rest of the world in that moment. The moon fair set the world alight that they might see its splendor.

Dragoons were ever taught to land lightly and hover on the barest of points, and much like their penchant for moments of flight, it was a muscle that never truly fell out of practice.

So it was nothing for her to perch on the natural “net” of the treetops, so dense as to support their weight on one of the highest branches as she settled in and set her daughter on her lap.

For so long as she drew breath, Myrina would never forget the look on Serella’s face, staring straight up at the sky—nowhere near where her newfound “constellation” was, mind, but just staring, unblinking, at the expanse of the universe with tears rolling down her cheeks as she took in the width and breadth of the night sky for the first time in her life.

“Wow…” Serella whispered. “I’ve seen it in pictures, but…”

Her words trailed off in a sniffle, even as she did nothing to wipe her tears away.

Myrina let her process this new discovery, her head on a swivel as if she would never see the sky again and had to commit it to memory. 

With a little lean toward her daughter, she murmured, “Just ahead of us. There’s your constellation—but look closer.”

Following Myrina’s outstretched hand, Serella at last scrubbed her face of tears and looked out, out, out beyond the treeline, on the far edge of the horizon. Dozens of lights twinkled back, all concentrated in the shape of a spire.

Or more accurately, several spires.

“It’s…a building…?” Serella trailed off, squinting at the outline that encased her newly discovered stars and leaning in as though it will help her see.

Eyes widening as she straightened again, she squeaked,  “...No, it’s a castle!”

Oh, how far and near to the truth she was. The truth might well break her heart. 

Despite everything, Myrina couldn’t help but smile as she said, “Something like that. It’s where I’m from.”

Serella’s head had never whipped toward her so fast.

“You came from over there?!” she exclaimed.

“Of a certainty. It’s—”

In her mind, Ishgard was as constant as the Twelveswood itself. Two homes, alike in cruelty, tumultuous as a roiling tide; made of the same waters and always destined to crash together but never unite. 

Myrina could not tell that to her child. Not when she looked up at her with such wide, inquisitive eyes. She could not be the first one to take that away from her.

“The…castle, you called it? It sits on a mountaintop with the surrounding town. It’s called Ishgard.”

Serella repeated the name slowly, as if she were testing its authenticity.

“What’s it like, Ma?” she asked.

Just as Myrina had feared. 

Slowly, she found the words to skirt around the horrid nature of the Theocracy. Staring out at the myriad lights that flickered so far away, her tone almost carried her voice to those windowsills she had so often pressed her nose against.

“The people there—they’re warm and kind. For the most part, that is,” Myrina started slowly, because that was true enough. “But they’re…it’s…”

Swallowing, she tried again, “No one is allowed to be their truest selves, unless they are inherently cruel. No one is able to truly be friends—with one another or with those not from there. It is a place cursed with loneliness and strife.”

As she expected, Serella’s tear-glossed eyes widened in shock and hurt at this revelation. Of course her tender little heart couldn’t bear the thought of such a place.

Rather than a fresh wave of tears, she shifted in her mother’s lap to face her fully as she asked, “Then we can make friends with everyone! Then they won’t be lonely anymore! Oh, can’t we go mom? Please?”

Myrina knew that look on her daughter’s face. That bright gleam in her mismatched eyes with a big smile that showed all her little baby teeth in an expression that dared the gods themselves to tell her she couldn’t fix an entire town with love.

Her sweet, innocent little girl. May she never know the harsh truths of the world—or may she defy them upon discovery.

With that little prayer in the back of her mind, she kissed the crown on her daughter’s head and promised her, “When you’re old enough to hold a sword and draw a bow, sweetheart, we’ll go together.”

Time had a funny way of half-breaking most promises and poorly keeping the rest. Twenty and two summers later, Serella would cross the Arc of the Worthy, driven there by the harshest truths and the cruelest lies of the world and trying not to wonder what her mother might make of it all.

[bonesandthebees]

wait, how do you come up with names for your fics? like in stars you have eldenvegr (i think?) and then epli and so on so on

well for stars I took very specific inspiration for my worldbuilding of different planets. eldinvegr specifically was inspired by this idea of an old norse/norse mythology kind of vibe, so pretty much every single word or phrase in the eldingvegrian language was kind of a twisted version of an old norse word (which led to me finding out that modern day icelandic really isn't all that different from old norse as a language to the point where I had people pointing out some of the words I ended up using were just straight up icelandic lmao)

I didn't come up with the name Eldingvegr on my own (a friend of mine who was helping me brainstorm the early plot of stars did) so I can't attest to exactly where it comes from, but I believe it was some variation of something like "dawn world" in old norse since, yknow, eldingvegr is kind of in a state of perpetual dawn/dusk thanks to being tidally-locked

epli is the old norse word for apple. røkkrring is taken from the word røkkr, which means 'twilight' in old norse, and combining it with the english word 'ring' to create the phrase 'twilight ring'. this refers to the band around the planet where the daytime and nighttime sides meet thus creating a habitable 'ring' around the planet. nóttsid is the old norse word 'nótt' meaning night, combined with 'sid' which is just the english word 'side' with the e at the end taken off. so literally 'night side' referring to the side of the planet that faces away from the sun plunging it into perpetual night. same thing for the daylight side sólsid (sól meaning sun, so 'sun side'). margyg which is the eldingvegrian word used to refer to the sirens of themis is taken from margygr which was an old norse word used to refer to mythological sea spirits/mermaid-like creatures. dagrbrað is taken from 'dagsbrún' which was another old norse word for dawn and combined with brauð which was old norse for bread, so it kind of translates to 'dawn bread'. as you can see I wasn't trying to take words directly from old norse and just paste them on, I was dropping letters/combining new words here and there to kind of make it look like a language that derived heavily from old norse/modern icelandic but had become influenced heavily by other languages like english.

I definitely put the most energy into worldbuilding the language for eldingvegr but I put thought into other planets as well, like themis. my inspiration for themis comes from greek mythology. the planet name themis both comes from a shortened version of themyscira, the home of the amazon warriors in greek mythology, and themis the greek goddess of several things including divine order and custom. I took a lot of inspo in general for themis from the legendary greek warrior women since themis has a matriarchal society/government. the name myrina for the queen of the sirens comes from one of the queens of the amazon warriors in legend.

ok that's a lot of rambling just for stars. for rose there isn't really another full language like there was in stars, but for place names I'm taking a lot of inspiration from dutch as a language (you can see this with the suffixes of many of the city names. summerdam with 'dam', cedardijk with 'dijk', maanstad with 'stad', etc. this is mainly because right when I was starting to get heavily into worldbuilding for rose about a year ago as I prepared for it to be my next large project, I took a trip to europe for 3 weeks and ended up spending quite a bit of that time by myself in the netherlands and absolutely loved it. so I got a lot of inspiration for the cities from my time there.

ok that was longer than expected lol hope you liked all that info

[marcynomercy]

Fate written in blood

Thank you @littol-rascal for beta-reading and for giving me so many tips and suggestions to improve writing thanks to that the next chapters got better too.

Summary: The blood has always been her way until the day that fate changed, After being kidnapped by mind flayers and the fall of the Nautiloid Calamity had a new opportunity for freedom and strangely her fate crossed with that of Astarion when the elf put that dagger around her neck. 

 Their fate until now was written by others, but now they would write with their own hands in blood. 

Warnings: Violence, blood, game events, mentions of trauma, distress/comfort, mention of abuse. (That’s it for now)

Ship: Astarion and Calamity (Tav), Shadowheart and Carniex (Tav), mentions of other characters.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4.

Chapter 3 - Blood and a song

 That night, Calamity told Astarion her story–vaguely, because it was a bit too foreboding in the middle of the night, and perhaps the details would leave them both with nightmares, she said. 

In turn, Astarion heard everything she was willing to say, making his own mental notes: First, that her masters were two motherfuckers who deserved death just as well as Cazador, and second, that she was clearly broken—she just didn’t know how much. 

 She’d admitted that she was just "acting" the lead role, and Astarion found himself impressed since she’d done so quite it masterfully... so he just realized that she just assumed what she needed at the time, like a good doll and puppet. 

 He felt disgusted by it. 

 For some reason, he began to hate it, the lack of personality, ambition and greed... the lack of life in her. By the gods, he was an undead and had more to live for than she who had a beating heart in her chest! 

 So he started little by little, and when she seemed to want something, he encouraged her to take it, no matter how useless it seemed.

"Darling, if you want something, take it! No one willcare, and it’s better to have than to not, don’t you think?"

Hearing these words, Calamity just kept quiet, but she agreed.

 Calamity went on to pick up a few things, starting with one or two books that she became curious about, and then jewelry–they found a bag with some, and Astarion picked up almost all of it, with the exception of one piece–a silver necklace. After all, he had to stay away from silver, but Calamity kept staring at the necklace with great interest.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"A-Ah... the stone." She pointed to the small stone in the setting, probably a ruby, judging by its crimson hues. "It’s beautiful… I like that color," she said softly.

"Do you like red?"

"Yes! It’s a strong and welcoming color..." She looked into his eyes. "Like your eyes."

 Astarion found himself at a loss for words.

"R-Right, if you like the necklace, then take it! I can’t touch it," he chuckled

 That’s how she took the necklace she would wear around her neck often now. 

 It was the sixth day after the fall of the Nautiloid and the formation of this strange group, and now, they had two more members: A tiefling who fled the blood war called Karlach, and the hero of the coast, Wyll.

 So far, they’d just had to deal with some goblins, gnolls, some false paladins of Thyr, and at the present time–a hag. 

"That bitch pissed me off." She told the group as justification for chasing the hag to the bottom of her lair.

 Was it perhaps another idiotic reason? Maybe, but this witch had angered everyone in the group one way or another, so no one protested. At least it was a decision she made based on the trial itself, and that was progress and... well, they found a Gur. For some reason, he’d been there on the trail near the hag’s house, and they bumped into each other after the fight against the hag, saving Myrina and giving her a zombie husband. The Gur said he was looking for a vampire spawn,and immediately Calamity and Astarion’s gazes met. 

"And what will you do with him? Kill him?" Calamity asked.

"I have orders to capture him and take him back to Baldur’s Gate," the Gur replied, "my people are waiting for me there." 

As easy as it would be to pull a dagger and kill him– something she’d done before– didn’t seem justifiable, since she was the only one to know Astarion’s secret... therefore, she discreetly poked the vampire, hoping he would stop looking at the hunter as a beast ready to kill, saying goodbye quickly before snatching the elf, taking him down the road with her until they were out of the Gur’s earshot. 

"Why the hell did you spare him?!" Astarion’s tone was frustrated at best, downright furious at worst. "I should have killed him!" 

"Shh!!" Calamity put her hand over his mouth as she walked him away from the group a little so they could speak. "I did it to keep your secret hidden for longer! Think about it, Astarion… if I killed him without a GOOD explanation what others would think?" She argued, stepping away from him a little. " You once told me to think first before acting impulsively."

"Well, that was because you tried to draw the sword to a devil! He was just a Gur, and we killed a Hag because she annoyed you, remember?"

"I think the Hag’s death was enough of an impulsive action for today." 

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Yes! But if he shows up at camp..." Astarion’s tone was pointed, clearly expecting a response.

"Well," she replied, meeting his gaze with as serious of an expression as she could, “then I will have the pleasure of killing him, and draining his blood to be your dinner." She finished with a flourish of her hand, smiling at the vampire.

 Astarion just laughed in response, imagining her hanging the cadaver upside down to drain the blood–imagining such a small and adorable person doing it was frankly hilarious.

"Hey, you’re mocking my height in your mind again, aren’t you?!" She crossed her arms, a half-pout on her face.

"Me? No," Astarion said, feigning both seriousness and innocence, "I was just thinking lovely things about how cute and small you are."

 Judgind from Calamity’s expression, she was ready to hit him.

"Hey, when did the two of you start being so close?" Shadowheart asked suspiciously. " Now you’re even talking and whispering."

"Awww, let them talk! They’re so cute, like a couple." Karlach, chuckled, seemingly enjoying seeing them like this.

 Both of them looked up, denial and surprise evident on their faces.

"It’s either that, or you’re trying to make up for her brother's absence, which is kind of a... pathetic thing anyway." Much to their dismay, the cleric seemed as sharp as ever.

"Astarion and I just got a little closer as friends... what’s up? Is Shadowheart jealous?" Calamity teased.

"Only in your dreams." Shadowheart replied, rolling her eyes.

"You hurt me, Shadowheart, I thought you liked me." Calamity fake-pouted, though the beginnings of a smile were evident at the corners of her mouth.

"Don’t be dramatic, you silly." The cleric said amicably.

 After all, Calamity and Shadowheart seemed to have had a good rapport from the beginning, and if she wanted advice or to clear her mind so she could plan more clearly, the other party members could be sure they would find the leader of the group talking to Shadowheart.

As they walked, Shadowheart pulled Calamity away from Astarion.

"What are you two hiding?" she asked.

"Nothing that is problematic in, I think..." She thought a little better. "I think it’s not problematic... at least not for me. Anyway! It’s a personal thing for him, and I promised that I would keep it a secret, and you better than anyone understands secrecy, isn’t that Shart?" The cleric sighed, mainly due to the fact that she'd used the nickname.

"Are you really going to insist on the nickname?"

"If you don't like this, I’m accepting suggestions! You know... you’re my first friend, and I know that nicknames are something affectionate..." Calamity’s cheeks flushed slightly."So... you can call me "Caly" if you want to."

"Oh, that’s a cute nickname. Your brother calls you that, I suppose."

"Yeah, you know, whenever he calls me by my name,I’m usually going to get scolded, or it’s something serious." 

 They talked for a while as they made their way back to the camp.

 Maybe it was because of the awkward encounter with the Gur or just his mind dragging him back into misery to remind him not to relax, but Astarion had a nightmare. 

 The vampire from his trance after dreaming of Cazador meeting him in the forest. He was terrified of his desperate mind, and hunger tended to strike him as terribly and strongly as his fear did. He needed more strength, more power... he needed blood, not those animals he was taking, but someone. Astarion left his tent and began to think about who he should pay a visit to, but luckily for him, there was someone sleeping outside the tent tonight... It was Calamity. 

 She said she’d help him, so she probably wouldn’t be mad at him for that, right?

However, Calamity woke up before he could bite her, and stared at him, sighing in exasperation as she sat up on her sleeping bag. 

"You know…” she trailed off. “I expected you to at least ask." Calamity paused, watching Astarion for a moment. " What happened? You didn’t get anything in the forest today?"

"I..." He was silent for a moment, thinking about what he would say. " I had a nightmare with my Master, he found me and I went back to the shadows... I need to get stronger, and the hunger… it’s consuming me." 

 She saw the despair in his eyes, in his expression… it was a despair she knew very well.

"I understand you, and you know I promised to help you and trust you,” she said, trying to reassure him. 

"Can you trust me but a little more?"

" If it’s a bite you’re asking for, I don’t have a problem with that, but just…” Calamity paused. ”Don’t overdo it. Can you promise me that?"

"Of course,” Astarion replied, feeling the hunger gnaw at his stomach, “now, how about we get comfortable?" 

"I think we’d better go to your tent." she suggested. "Better to prevent any accidents, I’d hate for someone to try to stake you."

"You’re right, of course,” Astarion chuckled. “Can we?" he reached out to Calamity,who gladly accepted his hand.

 So silly. She trusted him so very easily…was it really so easy to conquer someone like her, just like that? 

 As soon as they entered his tent, Calamity just watched everything quietly, as it was messy; the empty blood jars and the wooden tablet on the floor... He didn’t seem very comfortable. 

"Wait a moment." Astarion took some pillows and a sleeping bag,quickly preparing a bed for her. "Much better."

"Why don’t you do it for yourself when you get some rest?" An innocent question from Calamity, but it hurt, somehow.

 Astarion ignored the question, making her sit in the sleeping bag accommodating her.

"How do you want to do this?" Calamity asked almost automatically, her eyes wide.

"Well…” Astarion paused. “Are you afraid?" 

"Of being bitten by a vampire? Honestly, I’m not afraid. I can’t explain it, but it seems natural to me..." Calamity said softly, her expression thoughtful. 

"Have... you ever been bitten?" Astarion was intrigued by her perspective.

"If I was, I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything before I was 10 years old, and there are things I just know." 

"No memories, but her subconscious remembers information it needs, so to speak..." he muttered, more as an observation to himself. "Well, whatever’s most comforting to you." 

 Calamity just grabbed her hair that was loose, moving to lie on a pillow leaving her neck easily accessible to him. Astarion then positioned himself on top of her calmly, watching her features. She stared serenely waiting for him... so soft, so inviting. 

  He slowly approached, placing his hand behind the back of her neck, then he finally set his fangs and bit down, feeling the blood flow into his mouth.

 The taste was... something he himself could not explain, it was coppery, savory, and sweet as vanilla, but had something more full-bodied, dense, strong... powerful. It was intense and addictive, and the more he drank, the more his desire increased. Meanwhile, Calamity felt pain, but also something completely new, unique; she could feel her blood flow from her body to his... but even after that, there was still something more. 

  Something asleep inside her that began to stir, deeply. Calamity grabbed the fabric of his shirt, trying to something, but Astarion couldn’t make out the words. He lifted her body, embracing her waist as her grip on his shirt tightened, her voice rising again.

"A-Astarion... please... stop." She pleaded with him, her vision blurred, her tone exhausted, weak even.

 Astarione realized he may have gone overboard, detaching himself from her neck immediately, but he kept holding her in his arms...saw what he did to her.

"Calamity?! Hey, don’t sleep!" he demanded, hiding his nervousness.

"Calm down, I won’t close my eyes."  Calamity’s voice was weak and her eyes looked heavy, yet she still tried to reassure him...

 To Astarion, her skin looked paler than before, and the blood was still flowing from the bite on her neck. Astarion then licked the blood that was dripping from the punctures,laying her down carefully. 

"That - that was amazing. My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel… happy." Astarion said as he stroked her face. "This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it."

Exhausted and drained, Calamity chose to just accept the affection willingly.

"I’m happy to help... is it a bad thing if I fall asleep? I feel so... tired." 

Her breathing was heavier, and Astarion feared that if she slept, her heart would stop beating. An irrational fear, perhaps, but a fear nonetheless.

"You know, darling, maybe it’s a little dangerous if you sleep." He sat next to her.

"Are you afraid I’ll die?"

"Well, if you die after letting me drink your blood, I don’t think others will see it in the right light…it would at least be a stake in my chest."

"Do you think someone like me would die so easily?" Calamity questioned, slightly turning her face to look at him.

"Would you be offended if I said that at this moment you seem very fragile?"

"No…” she trailed off drowsily. “Am I delusional, or do you look worried?"

"It’s kind of hard not to be a little worried right now." Astarion admitted, concern laced into his voice.

Calamity smiled when she heard those words. 

"You know, I’m gonna need to sleep sometime." 

"Then, please drink a healing potion before closing your eyes." Shuffling about, Astarion quickly took a jar from somewhere–she couldn’t tell where.

 Calamity raised her head high enough to be able to drink the potion without problems. Astarion helped her, of course, and then laid her down again. 

"Will you rest too?" she asked.

"Not yet, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more… filling."

 Astarion left her in his tent and ran into the forest, the truth is that he was hungry in a different sort of way.

"Gods... any more and I would have devoured her." He muttered, feeling heat begin to simmer beneath his skin, feeling the tension pooling in his groin.

 When he returned to his tent, Calamity was still there, seemingly in a deep sleep. He laid down beside her, but much to his surprise, she was awake, turning towards him and open her eyes.

"Are you tired?" She asked.

"I’m still far too awake to go into a trance now." He sighed.

"I can sing, to help you relax." she suggested.

"What? Will you put me to sleep with a lullaby?" He joked, looking mischievously at her.

"Well, it’s a unique offer." Calamity hummed.

"In that case…” Astarion paused. “How could I say no." 

 Calamity began to sing; a soft and beautiful melody, but the music hit Astarion in a way he would never have imagined.

"Light is not a salvation, the shadows are,

Your place isn’t in the light but you still miss it;

Blood calls you, so don’t hold on,

I will accompany you; wherever you go, I will be by your side.

This moment is our eternity,

Don’t think about tomorrow or the next century;

Just stay in this brief moment by my side,

I’ll be yours until I die.

You don’t belong to the light,

The darkness in you that even the brightest light can’t illuminate;

For some reason I am drawn to this darkness, I can’t help it,

It ‘s the darkest part of my soul taking a breath from this welcoming darkness."

  It seemed to Astarion that this song was made for him, as the lyrics made every part of his being tremble, even down to his soul.

"Darling... where did you hear that song?" he asked perplexed.

"I don’t know, I don’t remember. But this song is recorded in my heart, I sang it whenever I felt lonely and helpless. It was my hope and my comfort, so I hope she will give you some of that comfort and hope Astarion." She smiled and stretched out her hand shyly to him.

 Astarion was still atonite, he didn’t know what to think or what he was feeling... but this is nice, why not? He held her hand and she continued to sing to him. 

"So I took her in,

I took you in,

If it’s my blood you want, I’ll give it to you;

If it’s my life you want, I’ll give it to you;

I’ll give you everything, down to my soul,

This moment is our peace,

This moment is our redemption;

Let me stay with you in this darkness,

This is our eternity, my love."

 He listened to the end, his mind slipping gently into a trance. Upon seeing him relaxed, Calamity finally gave in to sleep too, whispering to him before slumber took her... 

"Sweet dreams, Astarion."

Well that’s it! Thank you for reading the third chapter.

@spacebarbarianweird @spacesquidlings @thechaoticdruid @vixstarria

Who wants to be tagged in the next chapters please tell me in the comments.

[demona-andariel]

Tristan's Hawk - 5 / ??

Fandom: King Arthur (2004)

Pairing: Tristan x OFC

Summary: They were enemies, fated to kill each other. Yet a curse ends up binding her to him. Hawk by day, woman by night. She needs to find a way to break the curse and return home before he realizes just how much control he really has. Unfortunately, all too quickly, things become a lot more complicated when the heart is thrown into the mix.

Warnings: Nothing to bad. Possible eventual smut, undecided. I would say canon typical violence.

Word Count: 2,891

Chapter 5 - The Curse

Myrina lay on the cool hard ground and stared up at the grey sky. She absentmindedly spun Tristan's dagger in her right hand. It'd been a couple of weeks since she'd seen him. Since his little group returned to the Wall. Naturally, she had followed them for quite some distance, making sure that they actually did return home. She hadn't used her wolf form though, opting to fly in the sky as a hawk. She felt safer, up in the air. Besides, Tristan seemed to have a nasty habit of spotting her wolf form. He had kept his eyes trained on the forest. At times he had looked up and seen her, but he didn't seem bothered by the flying bird.

He scared her. She'd fought him twice, and both times he'd overpowered her. He kept catching her while she was at her weakest. But there was something else too. She didn't like it. She didn't like feeling helpless around him.

Myrina let out a sigh, setting the dagger on her stomach. She had told Merlin what Tristan had told her, about the knights being free soon. It didn't matter though, according to Merlin. As long as the knights served the Romans then they were enemies. Which was true. That shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did. She had hated the Romans and the knights all her life. They were responsible for her parents' deaths.

Her heart fluttered at the thought of going against Tristan again. The problem was, he'd saved her. She remembered him. The one knight who could have easily murdered five scared children. But he didn't. Now they were adults and no longer children. And it was entirely possible that either she or Darren would kill him, or he them. Darren had fully recovered from his injuries and was ready to throw himself at some more Romans, at the Sarmatian knights.

Tristan. He was her enemy. She needed to remember that. They both confirmed that they were enemies at their last meeting.

She let out a sigh and placed one hand on her face, letting out a frustrated groan. If they ever met again she would have to attack him. Maybe next time there would be real blood. Maybe next time one of them would die. That thought didn't sit well with her.

She returned his knife to her belt and sat up, stretching her muscles and rubbing her hands together.

"Rina," Reghan's voice called out.

"Here, cousin," Myrina replied as she stood. There was no point in worrying about something that may not happen. As Tristan said, their duty to Rome was ending soon. How soon, was the question. Hopefully, soon enough. The less Romans they had to deal with the better.

Reghan stepped out of the forest into the little meadow and headed toward her. He was dressed and clearly ready for battle. "We're fighting?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Merlin wants to send you further south," he said.

"Further south?"

Reghan ran his fingers through his hair in clear frustration. "I do not like his plan, but he wants you closer to the Wall. To watch and report."

"If Arthur or any of the knights leave the Wall and travel north again," she stated.

He nodded his head.

"Alright," she said, sounding sadder than she meant to. She would be closer to him. Able to watch him from afar. And if he stepped out where he didn't belong then she would warn her people and they'd be ready for him.

She felt her cousin's eyes on her as he seemed to carefully examine her.

"Does my cousin fancy someone and not wish to be too far apart from them?" he teased.

Although she tried to calm herself, blood rushed up to her cheeks and ears.

"Rina," he said then let out a hearty laugh. "Perhaps I could put in a word with Merlin and have this lucky young man join you as protection. Who is this man that has caught my cousin's attention?"

She quickly placed her hands on her face, shaking her head. "No," she muttered. As if she could tell him that it was a Sarmatian knight made her heart flutter. Enemies, remember?

Reghan chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in. "You must introduce me to this man who has caught your eye," he stated. "I need to see if he is really worthy of you."

Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "I don't think- Brandon!" She couldn't help herself as she ran to her brother. He stepped out of the forest, walking towards her, arms raised to hug her. She wrapped her arms around her brother, squeezing him tightly. Their relationship may have been strained, but she still loved him dearly.

"Where have you been?" she asked, playfully punching his shoulder. He'd disappeared before Nola's rescue, after giving them clues on when and where to attack. Not that it was unusual for him to leave. Whereto was a mystery.

"Merlin needs to talk to you," Reghan said as he strode over to them.

Brandon placed his hand under Rina's chin, making her look at him. "You look a bit like father," he commented.

She took a step back, shaking her head. "I don't know if I should be offended by that," she teased.

A branch snapped, putting her on alert. Two men and a woman walked out of the forest. Soldiers. The men were soldiers, but not Romans. Myrina felt her hand go to her belt, clutching the handle of the knife.

Reghan pushed through the siblings, unsheathing his sword. "You're not welcome here, Saxons," he growled.

The woman smiled. She was rather beautiful, just a little bit taller than Rina with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She seemed to be Reghan's age. She raised her hands up in an attempt to look non-threatening, but for some reason, Myrina felt wary. There was a heaviness in the air. Her senses tingled with danger.

"We did not come to fight, but to look for peace," the woman said. "Love?" She directed her attention to Brandon.

Rina and Reghan looked at Brandon in surprise. He gave them both a large smile.

"I know I should have mentioned it before. I met Cailyn several months ago. Love of my life. I knew Merlin would not approve. I've been working these last few months to secure her hand in marriage. The Saxons are on their way and they need not be our enemies. Cailyn's father is the leader of an army that is headed this way. As her husband-"

"What did you do, Brandon?" Reghan snarled.

"My father is not a cruel man," Cailyn said, giving them a smile. One that Myrina couldn't help but not trust. Cailyn walked forward, placing herself beside Brandon. "With gifts such as my dear Brandon and his siblings have-"

"Brandon!" Rina said in horror. There were only a select few who were well aware of the extent of the abilities of the siblings. It was a secret that needed to be kept.

"Rina," Reghan said slowly as he took a step back. To her confusion, Reghan placed himself between her and her brother. "I believe you should go tell Merlin of this new development."

"Why don't you go tell him, Reghan," Brandon said. "My sister is more than safe with me."

The hairs on her arms stood on end. She didn't believe him. She didn't believe her own brother.

"Rina, go," Reghan said softly as he withdrew his sword. The two Saxon soldiers moved forward, withdrawing their swords as well.

She froze, her eyes moved from the soldiers to her brother, to the woman, and finally to her cousin. She didn't know what to do. If she left she knew her cousin would die.

"Rina, ru-!" Reghan's words were interrupted. He let out a surprised gasp, clasping his hand to his neck as he dropped to the ground. The woman had her hand raised in the air, a bloody dagger in her fingers.

"Reghan!" Rina screamed.

"I really am sorry, cousin," Brandon said softly as Reghan dropped to his knees. Clutched his hand over his throat in desperation. She couldn't help him.

She looked up at her brother, eyes wide with horror. Whatever he planned, she couldn't go along with it.

Rina turned to run, but Brandon grabbed her.

"Sister," he growled.

She grabbed Tristan's dagger and withdrew it from her belt. Before she was able to use it, her arm was twisted harshly, forcing the dagger to fall onto the ground. She elbowed her brother, knocking the wind out of him.

Wolf.

"No, little druid," Cailyn's voice said softly as Rina's muscles started to shift.

Tingles ran through her body, making her drop to the ground. The shapes she was used to taking suddenly became distorted in her mind. No. She staggered to her feet.

Two hands roughly grabbed her arms. The two soldiers picked her up and turned her, before pushing her forward. Internally, she felt as if she were fighting something. A battle against some sort of magic that threatened to invade her.

A thumb pressed against her forehead, making her look up. Cailyn placed her fingers in Reghan's wound then marked Rina's face with his blood. A hand caught Rina's as she went to hit the woman.

"Do not defile my cousin's body," she screamed.

Cailyn smiled. "He would not have died had he left like your brother told him to," she said. "But, I'm glad he stayed. It's easier this way. Blood tying Blood.

Rina looked over to her brother who took off his tunic. Cailyn stood up and marked his chest, drawing symbols with Reghan's blood on it.

"Brandon? Why?" Rina whispered. Her heart ached at the betrayal. She knew he was upset. She knew he felt wronged by the gift he was given. She never expected him to turn on his own siblings.

"Your gift should have been mine, Rina," Brandon spat. "I'm taking what was rightfully meant for me. Do not worry. You won't die. Reghan wouldn't have either. All he had to do was leave. You'll just be normal, Rina. Like everyone else in this world."

Cailyn crouched and picked up Tristan's dagger, turning it gently with her fingers. "Beautiful blade," she commented.

Brandon frowned. "I've never seen that before," he said.

Rina's muscles tightened as she tried to struggle again. Tristan's dagger in the hands of that witch?

"Where did you get this, Rina?" he asked. He went to grab the blade, but the witch moved her hand away, shaking her head.

"It was given to me as a present," Rina said. It wasn't entirely untrue. In a way, it was a gift. Tristan did just let her have it.

Cailyn nodded. "A worthy blade," she said. A quick glance to her soldiers and they roughly grabbed Myrina, forcing her to stay on the ground. "This will hurt a little," she said.

Myrina screamed as the dagger pierced her flesh along the upper part of her left breast. She moved slowly as if carving something. Finally, she pulled away. The soldiers let Rina go for a moment and she collapsed onto the ground.

Rina pressed her hand against her wound and shook her head. "Why?" she asked, looking up at her brother in pain. "The gods gave us our gifts for a reason. You should not try to steal what they didn't give you," she said softly. Her eyes looked into his, begging him to reconsider his betrayal.

He knelt down next to her, placing his hand on her cheek. "I'm the oldest, Rina," he said, gently stroking it. "I deserved the best gift. The strongest."

The soldiers grabbed her again as the woman lifted her skirt and cut along her leg. She made many little wounds, deep enough for Rina to bleed, but not bad enough to kill her.

"Blood holds the power, the key," Cailyn said, slicing into Rina's right side. She leaned up and slowly cut into Rina's upper right cheek. "I understand your sister is a healer. These wounds will not kill you."

Rina looked away from the woman to her brother again. "Please, Brandon," she said softly.

He placed his hand on her uninjured cheek. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he said. "You're just going to be normal, just as everyone else."

Cailyn opened Rina's right palm and sliced it, making her scream yet again.

"Love," Cailyn said as she reached for Brandon. He held out his hand.

The world around her slowed down. She couldn't let it happen. She couldn't let whatever ritual Cailyn was doing be completed.

She reshaped her muscles so that they were similar to that of a bear, giving her more strength. Grabbing the wrist of one of the soldiers, she twisted it, hearing the sound of snapping bones.

"Do not make her bleed!" the woman screamed as a soldier unsheathed his sword.

A hand roughly grabbed Myrina by the hair, making her scream as they pulled her back. A boot slammed onto her calf, forcing her down to one knee. She elongated her nails, slamming the newly formed claws into the thighs of the soldier who had her by the hair. He screamed, but let her go.

"Enough, Rina!" her brother commanded as she fought. She needed to get out of there. She needed to escape.

Myrina spun, hand raised to attack then froze. Her brother stood in front of her. She didn't have enough time to react as a fist slapped into her jaw. Temporarily causing her mind to go black as she dropped to the ground. A boot slammed into her ribs, knocking the wind out of her.

Another hand grabbed her by the hair again and pulled her up.

"Enough, young druid," Cailyn stated. "You can not stop what I have started."

Myrina felt her energy drain quickly as the blood seeped out of her wounds. She opened her eyes and glared at the woman. Gathering her strength once again to fight, she spat at the ground.

"I'm not afraid of you. I can-"

The woman dug the knife along her stomach, making her scream. Rina slumped forward.

"She's done," Brandon snapped. "Aren't you sister? You won't fight this. You shouldn't. Your gift should have been mine. We both know this."

No.

"She is done," Cailyn said, sounding confident.

Rina stared at the ground. Her whole body ached. He was going to steal her gift. She couldn't allow that. But, her power felt as if it was draining out of her with her blood.

"Blood ties with blood," Cailyn said.

Myrina stared at Reghan. His unseeing eye stared back at her in horror.

"Are you ready, my love?" Cailyn asked Brandon.

Myrina looked up. Cailyn held Tristan's dagger in her hands. No, she couldn't allow her brother to steal her powers, her gift. She didn't stop to think, she just did.

Her talons wrapped around the handle of the dagger, cutting into the woman's skin. The woman screamed as Myrina flew off.

"Rina!" she heard her brother shout, but she was already up too high for him to reach her. "Cailyn, stop her!"

Rina kept flying. She had no destination in mind. She just needed to get away. Her body burned with pain, but she ignored it.

"A hawk you chose a hawk you must be. Bound by blood. You cannot leave far from the side of the blood you are bound to. He is your master. His words you must follow." The wind seemed to echo her words. Myrina felt as if her very bones and muscles were fused.

"Rina return at once!" her brother commanded somewhere off in the distance.

She ignored him and kept flying. Thunder rumbled as it started to rain. She had no focus, no destination in mind. She just needed to get away from him. Bound by Blood. She was in far too much pain to question whatever that meant.

Her vision started to go dark and she found herself falling from the sky. She managed to catch herself just enough to not hit the ground with a hard thud. It probably would have killed her. Although, at the same time, maybe it wasn't a bad idea to die. Keep her powers away from her brother. But then again, what if he received them on her death?

Her body dragged across the ground for a moment before she landed in a puddle of mud. She tried to get up, but she was spent. Her chest heaved with quick breaths, water partly entered her nostril. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw red spill out around her. Was she dying?

A hand slipped under her body, picking her up. She panicked. No! Her brother had found her. She started to fight. Or at least, she tried to. Her brain was ready, but her body was done.

"Easy, little one," a man's calm voice said soothingly. It wasn't her brother's voice.

She heard a little cry escape her beak but that was all she could do. She forced her eyes open enough to see who had her.

By the gods. Tristan, the Sarmatian knight, her enemy, the man she'd daydreamed about meeting again, had her in his hands. And he didn't even know it. He could never know. He'd kill her.

"You're safe, little one," Tristan said softly as she tried to move.

I am not, she wanted to say. But her brain was done. She could only send out one last prayer to her gods, hoping against hope that her body would remain that of a hawk until she was strong enough to escape and return back home. She needed to warn them. Warn Darren or Nola. What if Brandon went after them too? She barely managed to send out her little prayer before her world went black.

[littlesparklight]

This is a snippet from a speed run Amazon!Helen AU (mostly focused on Paris and Helen here but Menelaos will be coming in at the end to tie up the OT3 because I do what I want.)

~

Paris spent the evening singing the exploits of the Amazon Myrina, which had seemed fitting in general, but he'd admittedly mostly chosen it because it involved Myrina, shaken by a pair of pretty eyes in the form of the son of Mopsos as the Thracians came south to meet the homewards-turning Amazon army, taking the prince off the battlefield. That it ended with Myrina's death Paris avoided acknowledging by simply fitting that song to be the last, and letting Myrina's impassioned courtship of her stolen prince cap the evening. He was quite proud of it, though it'd been terribly hard not to give Helen too many looks… or not to laugh, entirely shamelessly, when Hektor glowered at him as he sat back down.

Perhaps he should've waited a day or so, Paris considered when he was pushed up against the wall right next to his door an hour or two later, Helen towering over him. The braid she wore, so very neat earlier that day, was starting to unravel about her face, leaving wispy, dark strands to frame her cheeks and highlight her jaw. For all that those strands looked softer to touch than the down of a newborn chick, they could do nothing to soften Helen's hard stare, for as gently gray her eyes were. Maybe hungry, not just hard, considering the devouring concentration of that stare. Paris only barely kept himself still against the wall, though not without tipping his head a little.

He had to, anyway, to be able to meet Helen's eyes, but the angle was perhaps not quite necessary.

Or it was entirely necessary, for the way Helen's gaze flicked down along his bared throat, then back up.

"I was kindly informed by one of your brothers you have quite a reputation, Prince Alexander," Helen said, voice sharp.

Paris would be more grumpy about it, if not for how the fire in Helen's gaze wasn't condescending, or angry. Whatever she was building up to, his brother's ridiculous warning had hopefully not spoiled his chances. Probably Deiphobos, who probably wouldn't be able to deal with an Amazon, even less Helen herself, no matter what he thought. Especially when he probably thought he could conquer one, or, again, even Queen Helen herself, and claim to have returned even such a great an Amazon as that to what a woman was supposed to be.

Supposed to be.

Paris suppressed a snort and merely smiled up at Helen.

"The nymphs are all very pleased to spend time with me," he said with cheerful dismissal and a shrug. "And can do as they wish. No one's getting harmed."

"They can," Helen agreed. One of the hands hemming him in left the spot beside his head. Paris almost shivered from the aborted touch to his curls alone, feeling the passing of her fingers like a shock without Helen even touching him. "But I'm not convinced you understand what you're doing. An Amazon is no man's prize, but many seem to think so unless we bring them home with us."

There was a promising darkness in those last words. Paris' imagination could quite easily paint up the events, especially with the stories everyone heard about the Amazons when it came to their brief trysts with men. He didn't want something brief. The air was charged in the space between them, every breath nearly electric. Paris was having terrible trouble remaining up against the wall, for he would very much like to stretch himself out against Helen's front. Laughing, he spread his hands instead, open, palms up, between them.

"I don't want a prize, Queen Helen. I want you."

Stretching up on tiptoe, which barely brought him within reach of her smoothly curved chin that yet had some firm weight to it, Paris covered the rest of the distance with a low-lidded, heavy-lashed look. She shivered, and was now frowning once more, like she had out on the courtyard when their eyes met. Paris' gut twisted, the weight sliding downwards, towards his loins.

"You'll get a night. We'll see if you actually want me," Helen muttered, a challenge as much as it was - thoughtful, maybe. Paris wouldn't dare to call it wary, not of such a woman, but if she'd been someone else, it might have been. She closed the the distance, bending down so they both could reach, the kiss burning between them.

[harmonyandco]

Random thought...The Grangers can't handle a 5 year old Hermiones burst of accidental magic, the last straw for them is when she shatters all the windows at their practice and are afraid her "freakishness" will rub off on their new born son. They decide that they are going to move to Australia but without Hermione, afraid of what people will say at a orphanage when she has one of her "freak outs" they decide to abandon her in the Forest of Dean.

The day before they are to fly out they leave early to take her to the forest, when there Mr. Granger hikes 25 miles in and "generously" sets her up with a small tent, blanket, some books, water and food. He tells her to wait there while he gets her mother and brother, that he'll be back real quick but Hermione already knows he won't shes 5 not stupid she knows that the things she can do scares them and since her baby brother was born they never let her around him but she doesn't say anything just smiles sadly and says "Its okay daddy." Mr. Granger hesitates for a moment but remembering all the freak accidents just nods his head and continues on.

Little do the Grangers know that only a day before Veron Dursley tired of dealing with his wife's nephew decides that he's not going to waste good money on a "freak" takes his nephew to a forest, kicks him out of the car and tells him to start walking till they come for him. Harry with only the clothes on his back and ripped up shoes starts walking knowing that if he stops and his Uncle does come after him that there will be more pain, but no one ever comes and now its dark and Harry is scared. He's able to find some shelter in a cave that blocks out the wind to spend the night in and though his stomach is growling he's used to it, he sets out the next morning and comes across Hermione. Hermione startled to see another kid ask

"Have you been left behind too?"

Harry "I think so? My Uncle told me to keep walking and don't stop but my feet hurt."

Hermione "Oh, my daddy told me to stay here and wait, I don't think he's coming back. Mommy and daddy are scared of me cause I make things happen."

Harry "I can make things happen too. Umm can I stay with you please? I don't want to walk anymore."

Hermione "Of course we can help each other, itll be me and you from now on. Always!"

Harry gives her a big smile "Always!"

Magic witnessing the abandonment of her children decides to send her most fiercest beast to not only raise the children but teach them as well. She send a nesting Horntail named Myrina to take the kids in as her hatchlings and takes them away that very day, she gifts both children with the knowledgeand understanding of Dragons as well as the ability to speak to them. Myrina takes them to her hoard and there they learn about magic and all it entails and how to be warriors, they learn how to become dragon riders and both end up with a familiar bond with one of their hatch mates.

Mr.Granger racked with guilt of what he's just done to his own child talks to the Mrs who feels the same way. They have a change of heart and rush back, by the time they get there night has fallen having camped there many times knows where to go but its too late Magic has reclaimed what is hers. He approached the little campsite and calls out for Hermione letting her know he's back but gets no answer, thinking she's asleep he opens the tent and finds it empty. He starts to panic and begins yelling for her.

Mr. Granger "HERMIONE! HERMIONE WHERE ARE YOU? HERMIONE I'M BACK, I CAME BACK! I'M SO SORRY SWEETIE BUT DADDYS BACK. I PROMISE WE WONT LEAVE YOU AGAIN JUST ANSWER DADDY AND I'LL COME GET YOU AND WE'LL GO HOME...HERMIONE PLEASE SWEETIE WE'RE SO SORRY!!!"

He continues to look for her but never finds her.

[ambrosiaicecreem]

THE MONTOLVO CHARACTER FILES | SILAS:

This is the story of Silas Montolvo. Part 1 of 3: The Human Years. Location & Time: Ancient Greece, 327 BC to 296 BC. 

328 BC: 

Okeanos Montolvo, a poor sailor, and Ariadne Castellanos, the daughter of a merchant, fall in love when they see each other at trading port for the first time. Despite the initial disapproval of her parents, Okeanos proposes to Ariadne after they find out that she is with child. 

327 BC: 

Silas is born on the first day of Spring in the year 327 BC to Okeanos and Ariadne Montolvo in Athens, Greece. He is the first son and first child of the newlywed couple. 

323 BC:

When Silas is 4 years old, his younger brother Marcus is born on the first day of Summer in the year 323 BC. At this time, Okeanos is still embarking on sailing expeditions in order to earn money to support his family. 

322 BC: 

Okeanos Montolvo leaves once more for a wealthy-paying sailing expedition and never makes it back home. Silas is 5 years old and Marcus is only 1 year old. The Montolvo family move back to live with Ariadne’s parents. 

321 BC to 307 BC:

Ariadne does her absolute best to give her two sons a happy childhood. To the protests of her parents out of concern for her and her sons, she never remarries despite the readily available amount of suitors that come in and out of their home. Growing up, Silas and Marcus both inherit their late father’s love for the water, which is Ariadne’s worst fear. The Montolvo family lives with Ariadne’s parents for a year before returning back to their original family home.

Silas and Marcus both grow up very close with each other, and have a positive relationship together as both brothers and best friends. When they enter their teens, Silas slowly starts to withdraw into himself socially while his brother becomes the more charismatic one. 

Silas takes an interest in the arts of the era, often finding himself practicing painting, writing, and sculpting. He uses his artistic talents as a teen as a source of income for their household, especially after the year 307 BC when Ariadne falls ill. 

308 BC: 

Due to the lack of funds for a medicine, Ariadne succumbs to her illness when her sons are 19 (Silas) and 15 (Marcus) respectively. With nowhere else to go and no other living known family at the time, Silas takes it upon himself to enter the marketplace work force to support himself and Marcus. 

305 BC: 

When Silas and Marcus are 22 and 18 respectively, they embark on a sailing expedition with a sailing company for money, following in their late father’s footsteps. For the next 6 years, the brothers become a vital part of the company, earning a strong reputation for themselves among their fellow sailors for their quick thinking and impressive sailing skills that have gotten their company out of dangerous situations. They’ve traveled all over the New World that Ancient Greece was discovering, and while their wealth accumulated enough to the point where they could start to settle down, the brothers both kept adventuring together. 

297 BC:

Whilst at port one fateful evening, the brothers ran into a beautiful woman who went by the name of Serafina Myrina. Unbeknownst to all 3 of them, this encounter would change all of their lives forever. There was an immediate attraction between Silas and Serafina, but with Silas being too shy Marcus took it upon himself to try and woo her for him. 

She was incredibly hard to read, but she simply laughed at the brothers’ interactions and assured them that she’d consider the proposal while they’re out at sea again. 

296 BC: 

Exactly one year later after they met Serafina, the brothers’ sailing company was hit by a massive, inescapable storm. Everything, from the crew to the ship itself, was broken apart into pieces and scattered in different directions by the sea. 

As if touched by fate, the ship just so happened to fall apart right along the coast of the home of the Amazons. Otherwise known as: the home of Serafina. 

Serafina recognized the ship as the one that the brothers came off of that night at port and dove straight into the angry seas to rescue them. Using all of her strength and might, and with a bit of help from the Gods themselves, she was able to pull both Silas and Marcus to shore. 

As the brothers clung on to their last bits of life, Serafina took it upon herself to make the decision of a lifetime for them. 

In 296 BC, Silas (age 29) and Marcus (age 25) were turned into vampires, thus ending their human lives. 

[askthedustbowl]

my star

selene waits outside the stage door for her snow queen after a nutcracker performance.

—————

selene liked waiting at the stage door. she knew that she could go backstage for nyx, but she loved seeing her face when she saw her standing there.

“selene!” she looked up at the sound of a familiar voice calling her name.

perseus closed the door behind him and ran toward her, grinning in the cute little way of his. selene smiled back and gave him a hug.

“you did so well tonight, kid.” she kissed his forehead. “go get some rest for tomorrow.” selene tousled his hair. perseus was like the son she never had, and she and nyx treated him as such. selene never thought she wanted kids, but now that perseus was in her life, a hole had been filled—one she didn’t even know existed.

“nyx is still getting dressed.” he said. “she’ll be out in a few.”

selene touched his cheek affectionately. “thanks, perseus. sleep well.” on some level, she knew that perseus didn’t really sleep, but she consoled herself with the delusion of him curling up in bed and getting some real rest for once in his life. he entertained her delusion with a nod and took off sprinting down the street with a quick wave to the people waiting outside the stage door.

selene shook her head and smiled. that boy was something else. seeing him offstage—curly-haired, bright-eyed, and wild—it was difficult to see him dancing with nyx, but they danced so beautifully together. nyx tied him down.

when she exhaled, selene could see her breath billow out in front of her. she pulled her coat tighter around herself, but she didn’t mind waiting in the cold if it was for nyx. just the thought of her face kept selene warm.

“goodnight, selene.” cassandra waved, and selene looked up at the sound of her voice. she walked out with asterion, who waved as well.

selene waved back. she liked cassandra a lot. the jury was still out on asterion.

harmonia and myrina followed, and harmonia stopped and clasped selene’s hand with both of hers. “you look gorgeous, selene!” she kissed selene’s cheek. “have a lovely night!”

myrina chuckled next to her. “goodnight, selene.” she said, her voice much lower than harmonia’s. “nyx is coming out soon.”

“thanks, ladies. amazing job tonight.”

“thank you!” harmonia beamed and went on her way, taking myrina with her.

harmonia was always so lovely.

after them, a steady stream of dancers started leaving as well. tyro and narcissus left together. phoebe left alone. pheme, daphne, orestes, lethe...everyone left until only nyx hadn’t come out.

selene took a pair of gloves out of her pocket and slipped them on. a few minutes passed. she stared up at the night sky, the wind whipping her hair around her face. the stars shone bright above her.

“what are you looking at?”

selene whirled around. “nyx!” she pulled her wife in for a kiss. her face was nice and warm from staying inside for all this time, and selene savored the sensation of the warmth on her lips, spreading throughout her body. “where have you been?” she breathed.

“i couldn’t find my ring,” nyx answered softly. “i found it, but it took a while. im sorry, darling.” she put her hand to selene’s cheek. “i took the long way around the theatre....you’re freezing.”

selene laughed, shaking her head. “hush, my star.” she took nyx’s hand. “let’s just go home.”

[thereaderandthechef]

✨⚔️Intl Giveaway + Tour Stop⚔️✨You need to infiltrate kingdoms and need a fictional character as an ally, who would you pick?! 👀📚✨ . Today is our stop in the bookstagram tour for Seven Ways to Kill a King by @melissa_wright_author! ⚔️😍 Seven cities make up the Storm Queen’s Realm, each of their self-crowned, murderous kings one of Princess Myrina’s marks. The treasonous curs may have banded together to share a stolen throne, but soon they will fall. ⚔️🔥 For fans of The Witcher and Game of Thrones—a new princess set on vengeance is here to steal your heart! 🔥🙌 . Oh I absolutely adore this book! I’m all about revenge stories and this fantastic YA standalone epic fantasy is about a stolen Queendom and a Princess turned assassin. Myrina has been angry for years and she’s had enough. 🤨🙌 With the help of Cass (who she has to pretend marry 😌👌), they set out to finish the traitors who usurped the Queen. It’s such a fun read with lovable characters, but also talks about grief and loyalty. 🥺🙌❤️ Make sure to pick up a copy!!! (Out tomorrow! 😍) AND ISN’T THIS BOOK SO PRETTY!?! . 📚INTL Tour-Wide Giveaway!📚
Up for grabs: 3 hardcovers of Seven Ways to Kill a King! (Sent via Book Depository) . How to enter: - Follow us, @melissa_wright_author & @mtmctours!  - Like this photo & leave a comment! . Extra entries: - Tag friends who might want to enter in DIFFERENT comments! - Share this giveaway in your stories tagging us, mtmctours & melissa_wright_author so we can see it! - Visit the next tour stop for more chances to win! Tomorrow’s host is @syds.epic.stacks! . Rules: Ends Sept 12th at 11:59pm EST. Must be 18+ or have permission to enter. Not affiliated/endorsed by Instagram. Winners announced on MTMC Tours' account. . . #alwaysreading #sevenwaystokillaking #booksbooksbooks #mtmctours #booksofinsta #avidreader #cozyreads #bookhoarder #coverlove #readersofig #bookflatlay #ilovebooks https://www.instagram.com/p/CEkIeXJBUGF/?igshid=1kxs34n4ama92

[athenaofthesea]

Athena Ray, Life before WH Timeline

(TW: abuse, bullying, death, depression)

1 day old: Athena Myrina Ray was born in April 11th of 1892 to Melinda Ray. It was a windy, chilly night at 10:13pm in West Hollow right before the evening rain and thunder. She was named after a war Goddess (Athena) and an Amazon queen, destroyer of Atlantis (Myrina). Melinda looked at her new daughter, trying to drown away the feeling of regret and fear and focus on making her far stronger than she ever was.

1 week old: Athena wouldn’t know about the merkingdom. And she would never, ever know about Melinda’s family or that her mother was a mermaid too. Never. Melinda swore this to herself. 

5 weeks old: Melinda moves from West Hollow to New York, finding an apartment right outside the bureaus of New York city. Athena would always believe she was born there.

1 month old: The baby was quiet and sweet, always sleeping on time and hardly crying. But when she would, of hunger, hygiene or lack of sleep, Melinda would want to cry herself. She was so stressed, so tired of being a mother. Could she really do this?

1 year old: The day Athena finally discovered her tail was a month before her birthday, and she wondered why her mother was so angry. Athena was afraid. She was taken away form the tub and left in a small blow up pool in the basement for 3 hours at a time everyday from that day forward. 

2 years old: She called daycare home, as she was almost never home with her mother. Athena was being raised by strangers. Every night she’d go home and spend a couple hours in her small pool before bedtime.

3 years old: Melinda was tired of working odd jobs and started to look for better work to support herself and Athena. Her little girl was growing to be more curious, adventurous and energetic every day. It was exhausting.

4 years old: Athena wanted to follow the monarch butterfly. She ventured outside the boundaries of the backyard and tumbled down a hill, breaking her arm. Mom had never looked so scared before. But she was even angrier after everything was okay. Athena learns from the hospital that she’s very sensitive to medication, and has bad side effects to most.

5 years old: Melinda finds a stable job as a secretary. She hires a nanny to care for Athena. Her name was Esmerelda and Athena loved her. Athena wants to go to the beach for the first time, but Melinda’s yelling scared her so badly, she doesn’t ask again for many years.

6 years old: Athena spends the next 5 years of her life hardly aging, and Esmerelda suspects the little girl is different. But she loves her, and teaches her everything she knows. Athena asks about her father, and Melinda says he was a horrible man but won’t say anymore and tells her never to bring him up again.

10 years old: Esmerelda discovers Athena in her pool one night, realizing she forgot her purse and going back inside the house. Melinda was in the shower. When she realizes what happened, Esmerelda is fired and threatened. Athena never cried so much in her life. Athena discovers she likes to sing, and sings to critters, making them come to her and do things. She feels like a Disney princess.

11 years old: Athena finally looked old enough to go to school, but she was far advanced by then. School was easy, school was boring. Kids teased her. She was alone. She asked to go to the beach again, and she’s locked in her room for 2 days. Athena asks for a dog for over a year and finally gets one. 

14 years old: Athena looks much younger than her classmates, was so much smarter and she comes home crying too often from the bullying. Melinda transfers her to a different school. Athena asks about her father again, Melinda yells at her. Athena wants to sing at a school talent show, Melinda yells at her. She is prohibited from singing in public and her dog is given away as punishment.

17 years old: Athena is transferred school 4 different times before Melinda settles to hire someone to homeschool her. Matthew Morrison is a good tutor, and eventually becomes like a father to her. She tries to sneak out of home and go to the beach, but a scary man brings her back. He was a witch, she’d learn many years later, hired by Melinda.

20 years old: Athena looks 15, but she’s tired of being held back in school just because of that. She secretly tells Matthew who she really is, but he doesn’t run away. He cares about the girl and pretends he knows nothing when dealing to Melinda. Athena finally starts college after manipulating the school president to let her. She meets a fellow freshmen and crushes on him. She realizes that witch is still preventing her from doing anything against her mother’s wishes. 

21 years old: Matthew is killed in a car accident. Athena is devastated. She’s left alone with Melinda now, who yells at her too much and won’t let her do anything. She’s forced to stay preoccupied with things like clubs, sports, college, and extra curricular activities. Athena loves art club most. She has sex with her crush for the first time, than he leaves her.  Melinda moves them to a house almost half an hour away from the city. She makes an indoor pool in it for Athena begrudgingly. Athena wonders how her mother was able to afford any of that.

25 years old: Athena graduated with her bachelor’s degree and high honors but her mother was too busy to come to graduation. Athena suspects her mother has been suffering from severe depression for years. She tries many times to go swimming in the sea and is prevented by some kind of magic. Athena confronts her mother. Melinda tells Athena that as long as she’s alive, she will never be able to go into the ocean.

30's: Athena begins fighting for women’s rights and going to rallies, while still trying to keep herself distracted and away from her mother. Athena begins to discover she’s not the only strange person in the world. Could there be more mermaids? Could there be even stranger things out there? Athena tries to find out, and Melinda creates more blockages that prevent her. 

40 years old: Athena tries to run away from home after months of planning, but is prevented by Melinda’s witch friend and is confined to her house for an entire month. She develops a deep depression and fear for her mother.

45 years old: A demon tries to hurt her, and angel Winter saves her. Athena spends most of her time painting the walls of her room and locking herself in there for hours at a time, reading and learning how to improve her art skills.

50′s : She spends too much time partying now, experimenting with both men and women. Athena falls in love with a man, and he loves someone else. She vows not to fall in love again. No one can be trusted in her life except herself. Athena begins fighting classes, training her body to be stronger with the hopes her mind and soul will follow.

60's: Athena tries to live as independently from her mother as possible, learning how to forge her own documents and get help to keep her identification documents changing due to her physical age staying unnaturally constant. She is allowed to walk along the beach now, but not touch more than the shore of the water. Athena tries to find out more about her father from her mother again, but Melinda makes it clear she’ll never elaborate more on what she’s already shared.

70's: Athena takes language courses and other types of courses to do something useful with her otherwise dull, imprisoned life. She takes them at Fordham University, and eventually forges graduation certifications and finds someone to put her into the system as having graduated from there recently with her past psychology major and art minor. She’s more involved in world politics and even more involved in humanitarian and environmental movements. So many men try to get her attention, but she doesn’t want any of them. Athena spends some time just sleeping with women, but not trying to find anything serious with them either. She is still continuing to train herself in combat.

80′s: Athena goes to Columbia University to get her master’s in clinical psychology and graduates successfully. She starts finding work waitressing and other odd jobs. Again, she tries to run away from home and is unable. She goes home to find her mother completely wasted, and asks about her father once more. She learns they met in West Hollow, Oregon, but that’s it.

90′s: After months of planning her escape, Athena attempts to flee to Oregon. She’s found out and punished by being locked in her house for a full year. She spends all this time vowing one day she’d be free from her imprisonment life.

100′s: Athena got better at hiding things from her mother, and slowly begins to research more into her past and the world around her. She dives deep into myths about magical creatures and the little town of West Hollow. Athena tries to go to mixed martial arts classes, but finds herself too advanced and gets a personal trainer instead.

110′s: She gets her ears pierced. Athena submits paintings to a contest and wins, but her mother is angry and doesn’t want her daughter bringing attention to herself.

120′s: Athena gets a job in an aquarium after years of begging her mother to let her do it. She quickly becomes the best dolphin caretaker. She’s finally decided to wait till the day she’ll get her opportunity to free herself from her mother. She decides not to waste her time trying to escape and try to live in the moment. Athena becomes a great artist, and has since learned a lot about her singing abilities.

125: Melinda Fray dies of a heart attack. Athena is free, magic no longer bounding her to stay. She quits her job, packs her things and moves to West Hollow, Oregon.

[artradhikita]

The time I started writing a comic book / graphic novel (Part 3 of idk how many, this may take a while LOL)

This is Part 3.

Click here for Part 2:

https://artradhikita.tumblr.com/post/618741007439314944/the-time-i-started-writing-a-comic-book-graphic

Click here for Part 1:

https://artradhikita.tumblr.com/post/618740135510540288/the-time-i-started-writing-a-comic-book-graphic

@azonip​ So at this point in the story I introduce a new character. Her name is Shyamali and she’s Alex’s girlfriend. She’s Indian, obviously, because how could I write a story and not have a character representing my birthplace? duh!

Here are the sketches I did for her character.

Unfortunately, her character is such a cliche Indian girl it hurts to read XD

Also, here you find out that Alex and his friends are in a band! Because bands are cool, so why not? XD

Copy-paste of the original first draft:

alex is with a young woman. they are walking in the park, it's a sunny afternoon.

alex: how was your week?

shyamali: it was okay, but i couldn't wait to see you. why do you have to live so far away from seattle?

alex: it's only an hour and a half's drive away.

shyamali: i missed you.

alex: same. *leans forward and kisses her* you look beautiful, by the way.

shyamali: *blushes* thanks.....umm, listen alex. i need to tell you something.

alex: what's up?

shyamali: it's my parents. *sighs* they've got this crazy idea that young indian women shouldn't date....anyone. especially handsome white guys like you.

alex: oh.

shyamali: i haven't told them about us, i know they would freak out. i mean, they would be upset if i was seeing an indian guy, they'd say that it was improper and that if i wanted to be with a man i should ask them to arrange my marriage. *alex laughs* i know....but if they found out i was going out with a non-indian, well, it'd be like the end of the world for them...i'd never hear the last of it. my dad would forbid it.

alex: forbid it? but you're 21, and you're a mature and responsible adult. shouldn't you be able to make your own decisions?

shyamali: hmph! i wish. traditionally, indian girls don't get to choose who they spend the rest of their life with, that decision is made by their parents. and my parents are very traditional.  i mean, i could just tell them to back off and let me be independent and all that, but it would cause a huge fight followed by awkwardness and more arguments and.....oh it'd just be a huge mess! *covers her face with her hands*

alex: i understand. i can relate. *moves her hands from her face and holds them* my father wanted me to join the army and become a general like him. it took me 17 years until i finally stood up to him.

shyamali: i don't think i'm ready for that. *looks up at him* but i love you....i don't want to lose you. the only way around this is if we keep our relationship a secret.

alex: okay, we'll do that then. anything to keep you with me.

they embrace

alex: *thinking: i'm glad you told me that shyamali, it's perfect. i thought i would have to break up with you to keep you safe from rafa and his gang. i know they would hurt you to try to get to me. but this way i get to keep you in my life without letting them know how much you mean to me. if we're both pretending we're not together they won't suspect us. i know the best thing to do for your safety would be to push you away from me, but i love you too much. i guess i'm just selfish.*

end.

a month later

alex is at home on the phone to lucy.

lucy over the phone: seriously! she's driving me nuts! she's talking about hooking me up with her friend's son so we can go to the prom together. i told her the prom isn't for another 2 months!  she keeps complaining that i'm too much of a tomboy and i should get a boyfriend! please just let me come over for spring break. i can't have mom breathing down my neck like this all week!

alex: i can't. i'm really busy. i've got work, and a gig in seattle on friday.

lucy: i won't get in the way, i promise. please alex, you've gotta get me out of here. i beg you.

alex: i don't know. *thinking: it was dangerous enough having you here for 2 weeks in the winter. what if they notice you and try to hurt you?*

myrina: come on alex, the poor girl needs a break. i'll look after her if you're so worried. she'll be with me the whole time, i promise.

alex: okay, fine. *lucy rejoices* but you can't go running around like a wild child. you've gotta be responsible and stick to myrina.

lucy: no problem. i'll be an angel, you won't regret this i swear. thank you so much. see you soon!

alex: okay, bye. *hangs up* dammit. i can't have her coming around every chance she gets. it's too risky.

quan: lighten up dude. rafa's guys don't know where we live. she'll be safe here.

myrina: yeah. besides, she's a tough kid, she could handle them if it came to that.

alex: it's not going to come to that! and you're going to make sure, myrina, just like you promised. she's a skilled fighter, i know because i taught her, but she can't take rafa or any of his guys. they're too powerful. i don't want her involved in any of this. so everyone is going to have to pretend to be normal people, just like last time. okay?

myrina, ralph, quan, kai: ooookay.

end.

2 days later

lucy is at the brotherhood's house doing yoga in the back yard. when she's finished she begins climbing the redwood tree and kai enters.

kai: hi lucy, what are you up to?

lucy: *looks down* oh! good morning! just the daily exercise.

kai: ummmm, you might want to get down from there, if the wind blows you'll be knocked off and fall 30 feet.

lucy: jeez, kai, i'm not that light.

lucy keeps climbing, a breeze blows and the tree begins to sway. lucy gasps and embraces the tree until it stops moving and then starts to swiftly climb down.

kai: *laughing* i told you! believe me, i had to learn that one the hard way.

lucy: what, you fell 30 feet?

kai: almost. it's good to see you again. how about some fighting practice? just you and me, one on one.

lucy: *hops down from a branch* you're joking right? aren't you afraid? or have you forgotten that i'm a trained ninja? i would totally kick your ass!

kai: oh really? well prove it, kid!

lucy: *glares* don't call me "kid"!

lucy attacks kai, who blocks her. the two fight for a minute and lucy is floored. she gets up.

lucy: okay, you're better than i thought. i've been going easy on you, but not anymore!

kai: *laughs* you forgot that i've been your brother's best friend since we were 5. don't you think he would have taught me some of his skills?

lucy: that's fine, but i'm still going to kick your ass!

the two combat each other again, more fiercely. but they are very well matched and neither of them can get at the other. kai suddenly grabs her from behind and wraps his arms around her, locking her own arms to her body. lucy struggles to get free but kai is too strong.

kai: now what are you going to do? you can't move your arms and i'm too strong for you to throw down. i guess i win!

lucy: no you don't! you can't hold me here forever. you're just stalling.

kai: not necessarily. you see, this leaves your neck completely unprotected. if i were a vampire this would be my chance to kill you. *pretends to bite her neck*

lucy: *heart beating quickly* *looks at him* vampires? really kai? come on, what are you, 12?

kai laughs and lets go of her. lucy suddenly attacks kai and he falls to the ground on his back.

lucy: ha! told you! *walks away victoriously*

kai smiles and looks up at the clouds. he sighs.

end.

lucy is in the kitchen cooking. kai and myrina enter.

kai: whoa, something smells good. i didn't know you cook?

lucy: now you know.

myrina: what are you making? can we get some of that?

lucy: lasagna and cream of broccoli soup. there's plenty, i thought you guys might be interested.

kai: lasagna sounds good, i'm not so sure about the broccoli soup though.

lucy: oh believe me, after you've tasted my broccoli soup you'll be begging for more. *myrina tries to suppress her laughter* besides, it's alex's favorite. i always made it for him back home in san francisco.

kai: that's nice of you. i'm sure he'll appreciate it.

lucy: it's the least i can do after everything he's done for me.

myrina: yeah, alex has done a lot for all of us. *kai and myrina look at each other*

lucy: how did you meet him? i know kai's been friends with him since they were in 1st grade.

myrina: umm...*she looks uncomfortable* my brother and i went to uc santa cruz with him. that's how we met.

lucy: did you have any classes with him?

myrina: uhh, no we just kinda bumped into each other. oh hang on, i'm getting a call. i'll be right back. *she quickly exits*

lucy: i didn't hear her phone ring.

kai: how come you know ninjitsu?

lucy: my brother taught me. i didn't exactly fit in with the other school kids, i was a real tomboy and i used to get in a lot of fights. i got really beaten up once when i was 10, i stupidly tried to take on this big bully. that's when my brother started teaching me. when he left to go to college i continued practicing by myself. he would teach me new moves whenever he  visited.

kai: yeah, he taught me how to fight too. i used to get bullied in school for being a native american adopted by german immigrants, *laughs* but he always stood up for me. he helped me become strong. i went through some difficult changes when i was a teenager, but he was always there, helping me through them. he's a real warrior, you know.

lucy: not that he had much of a choice. my dad put him in boot camp every summer since he was 8. he had to fight to go to college, the only reason my dad let him go was because he made alex promise that after he graduated he would join the army.

kai: i know.

lucy: if my dad hadn't died the next year alex would probably be fighting somewhere in the middle east. i'm glad he's free to follow his dreams now.

kai: i know your father wasn't very kind to you, but do you resent him that much?

lucy: my father resented me just because i was a girl. i have better reasons to resent him than he did. all my life i tried so hard to please him, i would even dress like a boy so he would like me, but he never noticed or cared. my mom, on the other hand, hated how i was a tomboy and never stopped trying to make me girly. i realized i would never be able to please my parents, so i stopped trying. alex was the only one who taught me to believe in myself. he always looked out for me and protected me. but sometimes i think he might be a bit too over-protective.

kai: that's only 'cause he cares. *smiles*

lucy: i know.

kai: so, how about some broccoli soup?

end.

it's night time. lucy is in a crowded hall watching her brother and friends onstage. she's in the front row looking at alex. he is singing and playing the lead guitar, kai plays bass guitar and sings backup. ralph plays the drums, quan plays the keyboard, and myrina alternates between a harmonica, eukelele, shakers, and a saxophone, depending on what each song requires. when the band is done, lucy claps the loudest. the crowd begins to thin and she gets onstage to help them pack up.

lucy: that was great! i can't believe i never saw you guys perform before.

myrina: i know, and your own brother started this band.

lucy: you're really multi-talented myrina.

myrina: thanks, i think i have the most fun out of all of us. *laughs*

a young indian woman approaches the stage and alex pulls her up. they kiss. everyone looks.

alex: guys, this is shyamali, my girlfriend. shyamali, this is kai, ralph, myrina, quan, and my little sister lucy.

lucy: "little"?!?! *she smiles and shakes shyamali's hand* you have a really beautiful name.

shyamali: thank you. it's nice to finally meet you. your brother talks about you all the time.

lucy: really? *grins at alex*

ralph: girlfriend, huh? since when?

shyamali: uhh, we're kind of keeping it a secret. my parents are a bit weird about certain things. *looks at alex*

myrina whispers to ralph: no wonder alex kept it quiet. he stresses out enough about having lucy around, i'm sure he's worried about her too.

ralph nods.

a group of girls approach the stage and flirt with kai, who flirts back. one of them goes up to ralph.

girl: gosh, you must have really strong arms to play those drums like that.

myrina: those strong arms only go around me, so back off missy! *glares with arms crossed*

girl: okay! jeez.

the girl leaves, the other girls chat to kai and quan, and kai leaves with a girl on his arm. lucy glares behind him.

shyamali: don't worry, i doubt he actually likes her. some men just need to have that sort of thing to feel better about themselves.

lucy: huh? worried? i'm not worried! i don't care if he likes her or not. where'd you get that impression?

shyamali: oh! i dunno, i just...i mean...ummm...

lucy: please, i don't think about him that way. i know what he's like. he doesn't do it to feel better about himself, he's cocky as hell. he does it because he can. he's never had problems with girls, they seem to just offer themselves up to him. but not me! and if he thinks he can flirt around with me, he's wrong! i really don't care about him. so he's wasting his time. *crosses her arms and frowns*

shyamali: okaaay...hey how about getting a sandwich with me or something while these guys finish packing up?

lucy: i'm a vegetarian.

shyamali: yeah, so am i. that's why i said a sandwich, not a burger.

lucy: oh. sorry. hey cool! i never met another one until now.

shyamali: really? i know tons. i can teach you how to make lots of vegetarian dishes if you like. most of them indian of course.

lucy: i love cooking! that would be great.

they walk out together.

quan: looks like lucy found her soulmate. *chuckles*

end.

it is morning time. alex is in his car and is dropping lucy off at the station.

lucy: thanks for the ride big brother. and thanks for letting me stay with you again. i really appreciate you rescuing me from mom.

alex: you're welcome. but you know you can't keep running away from your problems. if you really feel that badly about the way mom treats you, you should stand up to her. don't let her dictate your life. besides, i can't keep hiding you here.

lucy: i know. i'll try to be strong like you. i promise next time she bothers me i'll stand up for myself.

alex: good. i love you very much, and i don't want you to rely on me for your happiness. you should be happy living with mom, or wherever you are. goodbye. take care of yourself.

lucy: bye alex. you too.

lucy gets on the bus and waves to alex. the bus pulls away and alex drives off.

a hooded man sits in a car and watches alex drive away. he starts the engine and follows the bus.

end.

[starswornoaths]

Of the Sea...

Hello! Hi! This is a bit of Hanvesh’s backstory! I decided to do a lil mini series of these for Serella and Uthengentle’s parents, to chronicle how they wound up retiring in Gridania, and this is the first part of what (I think) will be four parts! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 2,002

All things considered, Hanvesh had a pretty damn good life, he’d reasoned.

There were so few things more satisfying than feeling free on the high seas, bellowing shanties amidst cannonfire, the whistle of his arrows finding their marks on the occupants of enemy ships, the celebration of a hard won bounty and the taste of good mead on his tongue as he cheered with his shipmates after a good haul. He had not truly lived until he first felt the sway of the ocean on a ship deck, the wind on his face and a song on his lips.

For he had been recruited specifically for the fact that his songs were nothing short of magical, in every literal sense of the word — and Hanvesh made sure everyone knew about it. When their ship sailed into battle, his lyrics inspired and bolstered their men to accomplish astonishing feats they would have otherwise never achieved, and more often than not, was what had made the difference in many a decisive battle out in the briney blue. The ship’s reputation — and their coffers — grew to astronomical heights over the years; there was nary a pirate in all of Vylbrand that didn’t know what they were capable of, what they had already taken for themselves. Their galleon’s name — The Serpent’s Sting — was carved in the annals of history and lined with all the gold they had amassed. Hanvesh felt like he had, after years of struggle and dedication to his craft, at long last caught a northerly wind, and was soaring on sails filled with the sweet air of success. 

Until that self same wind dashed them all against the rocks.

It had been foolish to engage in battle with another ship in the eye of a storm, and they had all known it — but the captain had grown too cocksure, too arrogant with their string of good fortune. ‘The Navigator always steers us through, boys!’ The captain had cheered as he ordered them to sail head on into the oncoming storm in conquest for more loot. 

As Hanvesh looked down at what was left of the captain, he bitterly noted that he wasn’t saying much of anything anymore.

None of them were — save for him. He stood in shallow water, his clothes tattered, his bow broken and his spirit dead, alongside the rest of his crew. Their bodies all scattered around the remains of their beloved ship, their seafaring home, eerily still even in the rocking of the water. The waves — gentled now that the storm had passed — lapped at his ankles lazily, their froth ticking his skin. He stared and stared and stared out to the horizon, waiting, praying for a sign from Llymlaen showing him where to go.

Though, he mused sourly, surveying the destruction of everything that he had known for the better part of a decade, he wondered if, perhaps, the Navigator already had.

Somehow, astonishingly, Hanvesh had managed to make it ashore with only a few gashes and bruises to speak of — nothing short of a miracle, given that he was the only one to have made it at all. He was in shock, he realized with a manic chuckle, barely wheezed out of lungs that struggled to gulp in air even as he stumbled toward the wreckage, stepping into the gaping maw that the rocks had carved into the bilge. 

Looters would be along shortly — he would know more than most, and he didn’t want to walk away with nothing; even amongst the tattered remains of a life well lived, surely there was something to aid him? Much as it didn’t feel right to take anything from around the bodies of his fallen shipmates, if he was to even have a shot at living — for them, for himself — he would need all he could get. 

His faithful pack, a lovely hardleather thing stained a crimson almost as deep as its pockets had survived with him, blessedly, and he slung it on his back as he continued to fumble around the ship’s corpse — and the corpses of those that littered it — for anything that might be of use. He found a dagger that was still in good condition — Gilpin’s, he realized — and though he remembered the way the boatswain would often twirl it as he went about his business in mourning, he still slipped it into his belt and moved on, trying to remember the man as the lively quartermaster that he had been, and not the graying body with its head nearly severed that he ended up as.

Sure, they’d been pirates, but they had all deserved better, Hanvesh thought. And I should’ve died with ‘em. 

They had hardly kept all of their treasure aboard their ship — they had far too much of it — but there was more than enough gil kept on hand for trade that he could easily purchase arms and armor for himself — provided he made it back to a town. He hoarded every coin he found in his pack — he’d count it later. Scrambling up the remains of the companionway, he made it to the captain’s quarters, brushed past the barely there door that clung to the doorway by a bent hinge, and staggered inside.

Miraculously, the cabin was largely dry — and intact, save for the bits and baubles strewn about the floor, in pieces. Hanvesh stepped over them, pulling the maps and charts down from the wall and folding them carefully into his pack; he knew he would need them desperately. Amidst the broken trinkets on the floor, he found the captain’s compass, its weighted brass casing, while scuffed, had protected the compass from the wreck, and he pocketed it for use later. As his eyes wandered around the cabin for anything lightweight that he could put to use, he felt an anger swell in his chest the likes of which he had never felt before; they all wound up like this because of Captain Marlow — their captain, the man they had trusted to know what was best for the crew! And his folly had led them all here! For a few long moments, he stood there, letting the reality of the end of this chapter of his life — and how it all ended — sink in. 

Too long, he realized with a curse when he began to hear distant shouting. Looters had already found their wreckage — or local authorities had beaten them to it, for once — but either way, he needed to leave — now. He turned to leave when he caught sight of a small flag of theirs — with their colors — still intact on the wall. His hand, still trembling and clammy, gripped at the fabric and ripped it off the wall, stuffing it into his pack and clamoring out, climbing above the cabin and up onto the afterdeck, creeping along toward the upturned stern of the ship, he peered over the railing just in time to see who was approaching. 

They weren’t looters — couldn’t have been; their weapons were too nice, too standard issue, to say nothing of the uniforms. No, these were Knights of the Barracuda. A blessing, then — provided he slipped past them undetected; if he could spot which squadron they were, he would have a better understanding of where he was. 

Hanvesh flattened himself against the deck as much as he could, still watching them through the railings as the woman he presumed to be the squadron leader barked orders to search for survivors. His elongated ears pricked up at the sound of boots thumping against the remains of the deck wood, and cursed — he was trapped.

Unless, of course, the leader of the squadron moved. Clenching his hands into fists, he silently willed the woman to just move toward the ship bilge, the same way he had come up, so that he could slip over the railing and disappear into the trees just beyond the beach. If she didn’t…he unclenched a hand and gripped the hilt of Gilpin’s dagger. His hands might feel shaky, and he absolutely wasn’t at his full strength, but if it meant making it out alive… 

Still. Best to avoid confrontation, he decided.

Blessedly, Llymlaen had decided to grant him pity, as the woman stepped up to the bilge to inspect some of his fallen shipmates. Taking the opportunity for what it was, he shimmied between the railings, his long, narrow body easily slipping between two posts and allowing him to hang from the other side. 

As Hanvesh righted himself and just before he lowered himself to hang, he caught sight of one of the Barracudas who had climbed atop the afterdeck, though had not yet spotted him in the dark. He spied the crest on the shoulder of the armor — the 9th Squadron. So, he thought, glancing back into the thicket of trees. They had crashed in the Sea of Jade somewhere? He rather hoped it was farther in toward the Rothlyt Sound; he could slip into Gridania or Gyr Abania better that way. If he was on an island just off the shore…well. He’d stolen ships before.

Bracing himself— because he could hear the Knight on the afterdeck drawing closer— Hanvesh let go of the floorboard. 

His already uneasy legs buckled underneath him in the wet sand, and though he sunk to his knees he scrabbled to stand under himself and the added weight of his pack. Though he teetered on falling on his side like a baby turtle he managed to right himself despite his muscles, his very skin protesting his movements, and sprinted into the treeline.

There came a shout from one of the Knights that he heard someone take off into the trees, and Hanvesh spat a curse, even as he begged his body to obey him and move faster. He couldn’t hope to out maneuver them with stealth; though his wounds were not grievous, they still bled, and hounds that the Knights of the Barracuda were, they’d sniff him out afore he had even gotten his bearings. In the thicket of trees that he now dashed and stumbled through, however, they were slower than he, and he used that to his advantage. 

The trunk of a mighty tree splintered near his shoulder— a bullet! Hanvesh realized with alarm when his ears rang with the crack of ignited gunpowder— they were opening fire on him! Did they think him a bandit, or worse, did they not want survivors to cry foul for them taking the Devil’s cut of his ship’s hard won plunder?

Doesn’t matter, have to keep moving, Hanvesh decided, beginning to duck and weave in odd patterns to avoid making his path a straight line: if these bastards wanted a shot at him, they’d have to work for it.

So Hanvesh ran. He ran and ran until his ears could no longer pick up on the sounds of his pursuers shouting commands at one another. He ran until the whistle of stray bullets faded away until there was only the rhythmic thumping of his feet on the hard earthen ground. He ran until he saw the trees thin out and give way to walking trails and silence reigned in the forests. He ran until he all but collapsed against a guidepost panting, flushed, and trembling like the leaves that fluttered in his wake. 

Still, his eyes yet availed him, and he looked up at the sign— Northeast up the path to Gridania, forty malms. His poor fortune had lifted, somewhat: at least he knew he was close to civilization. He need only make it there without dying in the process.

His spirits still heavy and his limbs like lead, Hanvesh Arcbane moved onward and upward, to what he could only hope were better prospects than the rubble of the life he left behind.

[bonesandthebees]

can you share some info about Themis??? (and/or about Wil and Tommy’s mother???) stars is sooooooo good already and it just started and i’m already sooooo into this new world and i’m so curious about every bit of it!!!

AAA IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

Themis is the home planet of the sirens. Throughout history, Themis has been a planet that's extremely closed off to outsiders and keeps its independence. No one really tries to fuck with the sirens because of their ability to use their siren Voice, which they can use to compel others to do their bidding

The Themisian royal line of succession is matrilineal meaning it's passed down through women first. The current Queen of Themis is Queen Myrina V, who was the oldest sister of Wilbur and Tommy's mother.

Wilbur and Tommy's mother was part of the Themisian Royal Family, however she was the youngest of 7 daughters, meaning she was basically never going to inherit the throne. When she was only 18 she ran off to another planet, ended up having a fling, and had Wilbur out of it. Eventually, her mother found her and dragged her back to Themis while she was pregnant with her first son.

A few years passed and she raised Wilbur on Themis, but when he was around 2 she was told that she was being placed into an arranged marriage with the King of Eldingvegr so that Themis could secure an alliance with Eldingvegr for easy access to blaziphane. And boom that's how she ended up with Tommy

Queen Myrina V is Tommy and Wilbur's aunt, and her oldest daughter, Crown Princess Myrina Hannah of Atla Rose, is their cousin. Hannah is set to inherit the throne when her mother passes, although if something were to happen to Hannah, the throne would be passed to her younger brother, Prince Tanais Boomer, Duke of Bátrantis. But, like, no one really wants a man on the throne so they'd probably come up with some loophole rule for it to default to the next woman in line

One thing about Themis is that only female sirens are taught how to use their Voice. It's naturally more difficult for male sirens to use their Voice because a lot of it relies on being able to create higher pitched sounds, which males can't do as well because of their deeper voices. Along with that, men are just seen as more volatile, and aren't trusted to use their Voices responsibly. It's not impossible for a male siren to learn how to use his Voice as well as a female siren, it's just way more difficult

so that's why Wilbur struggles a lot more with his Voice than Niki does! I'll get into more about how he learned to use his Voice when male sirens aren't supposed to be taught that later on in the story as well :)

[aion-rsa]

DC Comics: The 15 Biggest Moments of 2016

DC Comics endured yet another year filled with recalibration and revelations. The publisher underwent a “Rebirth” to restore some semblance of sense between the pre-“Flashpoint” era and the New 52, while still keeping the new continuity intact. The product? A year of mind-games, clues and hints as to what actually caused all this fragmentation within the DC universe and just how cohesive it could be if put back together.

RELATED: Marvel Comics: The 15 Biggest Moments Of 2016

Fans also saw the beloved Trinity being pushed to the limits, mentally and physically, with character deaths and returns sprinkled all over their precious pages. With the Justice League and Suicide Squad embedded in an even bigger spotlight due to the burgeoning DC cineverse, creators  churned out some pretty monumental moments that truly defined and dealt with DC’s legacy and evolution. Without further adieu, CBR brings to you the biggest DC Comics jaw-droppers from 2016!

SPOILER WARNING: The below contains spoilers for multiple DC Comics titles.

THREE JOKERS

“Justice League” #50 from Geoff Johns and Jason Fabok was one of DC’s most action-packed comics. It wrapped “Darkseid War,” which saw the Justice League barely overcome a resurrected Darkseid, under the control of his daughter, Grail. In the aftermath, a recovering Batman revealed crucial information on the Joker, which he found out before this fiery finale.

In Issue #42, while imbued with the universal knowledge of the Mobius chair, Batman inquired into Joker’s true identity and finally revealed to Hal Jordan that there wasn’t one, but three Jokers. Theories are that the three correspond to different phases in Joker’s career: one resembling the Golden Age Joker, the other resembling the ’70s and ’80s-era Joker, and lastly, the modern one from Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo. Multiple Jokers would explain why he’s always cheating death, why his past is so vague and why his personality shifts so much from silly prankster to psychopath. Fans are eager to see more of this mystery unveiled in 2017 because of the impact it will surely have on the Batman mythos.

DARKSEID DIES (AGAIN)

“Justice League” #50 delivered another emphatic Darkseid death. This was his second demise after the Anti-Monitor and Flash/Black Racer infusion killed him last year in Issue #44. This time, Johns and Fabok scripted Grail as her father’s murderer. With the Anti-Life Equation extracted from the Anti-Monitor, leaving Mobius behind, Grail used it to weaponize Steve Trevor to kill the powerhouse. Eventually, she took back the Equation and merged it with the Omega Sanction (taken from Lex Luthor) into the son of Superwoman and Mazahs (both of the Crime Syndicate), reviving another iteration of her father.

She held full control over this Darkseid and used him to pummel the League. However, her Amazonian mother, Myrina Black, realizing her daughter was becoming a tyrant like her father, urged her to cease her lust for war. With Wonder Woman restraining and calming Grail via her lasso, Myrina beckoned her daughter to rid her slave of the Equation. An emotional, repentant Grail obliged, with her Omega Beams piercing through both her parents, removing the Equation from Darkseid. It was all part of a stormy finale that revealed Superman’s ill-health, Jessica Cruz as a Green Lantern, Lex ruling Apokolips and Wonder Woman’s twin brother.

SUPER SONS BRAWL

“Superman” #10 offset all the dark and gritty clouds that covered the Rebirth era with something a bit more fun in the shape of a pint-sized super-brawl featuring the sons of the World’s Finest. Peter Tomasi and Patrick Gleason constructed a lighthearted story of Batman’s son, Damian, kidnapping Jon Kent, Superman’s (pre-New 52) son, after becoming concerned that the latter couldn’t control his evolving powers. Batman immediately chastised Damian upon finding out, only for a peeved Superman to come crashing through the Batcave, angry that Jon was whisked away without permission.

As both fathers worked out their differences and began testing Jon’s DNA for abnormalities, the kids apparently reached a truce through Alfred and their love of animals. However, Damian’s constant antagonizing brought a truly hilarious moment that saw a fed-up Jon punch the volatile Robin in the gut for his insults about the youth’s emerging powers. They ended up scrapping only for their fathers to break it up with looks of disapproval. Jon’s punch was certainly a laugh-out-loud moment that sets the stage for their “Super Sons” book, slated for a February 2017 release.

THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN BOOMERANG

“Suicide Squad” #2 threw us for a loop when it took Captain Boomerang (Digger Harkness) off the table at the hands of General Zod. Fans were shocked that Rob Williams and Jim Lee scripted his death, especially after the Rogue’s breakout role in David Ayer’s film. On a mission with the team under Rick Flag’s watch, Squad members Harley Quinn, Deadshot, Killer Croc, Katana and Enchantress infiltrated an underwater facility housing a cosmic artifact.

After locating their prize and picking up a new teammate, Hack, they found out that it was a portal to the Phantom Zone. Stunned, Flag urged his team to get away as they were in over their heads. However, before a prying Boomerang could escape, Zod promptly dispatched him via heat vision before revealing himself to the Squad. It ended up being a temporary removal as the character returned in Issue #8, thanks to Hack, who revived him from digital entrapment during a prison breakout and riot at Belle Reeve. It was a sigh of relief for his cult following who thought his newfound popularity fell on deaf ears.

THE DEATH OF LOIS AND CLARK

DC swung for the fences when they killed off the New 52 versions of Lois and Clark, making way for the classic versions to take center stage again. The New 52 Superman exited in Tomasi’s “The Final Days of Superman” arc in “Superman” #52, when the icon died from kryptonite poisoning, surrounded by friends and the pre-“Flashpoint” Superman. He exploded and turned to ash, simultaneously emitting energy bolts that powered up both the New 52 Lois and Lana Lang, making way for “Superwoman” #1.

However, Lois’ stint would be short-lived as artist/writer Phil Jimenez killed her off in the same inexplicable manner. She also turned to ash instantly while fighting off a Bizzaro-Superwoman clone belonging to Lex’s sister, Lena; aka, Ultrawoman. On perishing, she hinted that she saw the dead Clark and that she finally understood why he died, leaving Lana alone to carry the mantle. With this Lois dying, the pre-“Flashpoint” Lois decided to take up her identity. It was a bold move to take two big players off the chessboard in this way, but with another Lois and Clark present, fans were already looking to the next chapter (and honestly quite happy to have the return of more familiar faces).

THE “DEATH” OF TIM DRAKE

James Tynion IV and Eddy Barrows delivered quite a stunner to Tim Drake fans, without even following through on killing him. In “Detective Comics” #940, the Bat-family took down Batwoman’s father, Jacob Kane, and his rogue military operation, The Colony. Tim, aka Red Robin, stops Kane’s fleet of weaponized drones by reprogramming them to target himself instead of innocent Gotham citizens. A wounded Tim survived the first strike, only to discover a second unstoppable wave that seemingly destroys him, leaving his staff alone behind.

However, the issue’s big twist is that while he is injured, he is alive, transported to a cell at an unknown location. There, he’s confronted by the same hooded stranger we saw in the “Rebirth” one-shot who’s also been keeping tabs on Superman in “Action Comics.” The mysterious entity, Mr. Oz, cryptically says that because Tim had been “reconnecting threads that could not be reconnected,” he needed to be taken off the playing field. It was a painstaking moment to see Tim expressing hope that his allies will find him, with his fate appearing very bleak as everyone is grieving. It’s hard to come back when no one’s searching for you, though we suspect we’ll see him back in action soon enough.

MAX LORD RETURNS

In terms of being the ruthless megalomaniac we’re accustomed to, Max Lord has remained relatively low-key post-“Flashpoint.” Leading Checkmate, he did battle Brother Eye and the new O.M.A.C., but it’s “Justice League vs. Suicide Squad” that sees him return to his despotic ways in grand fashion. The former League benefactor assembled a third team, filled with villains, and all sharing the objective of taking out the stalwart chief of the Suicide Squad, Amanda Waller… by any means necessary.

It’s exciting to see this conniving attitude once more from the man who once put a bullet through the head of Ted Kord, the original Blue Beetle. He rounded up Lobo, Emerald Empress, Doctor Polaris, Johnny Sorrow, Rustam and Eclipso, to get to Waller, even if it means going through her Task Force X unit or the League themselves. The cold, cruel and bloodthirsty manner in which he broke his team out from The Catacombs prison, using his mind control to turn the guards on themselves, showed that he means business. We can’t wait to see how Joshua Williamson and Jason Fabok craft Lord’s new mission, which, ironically enough perhaps, involves “saving the world.” We’ll believe it when we see it…

I AM SUICIDE

“Batman” #12 by Tom King and Mikel Janin shockingly elaborated on what the arc “I Am Suicide” truly meant. It wasn’t in reference to Batman’s makeshift Suicide Squad that attacked Bane’s Santa Prisca base to extract Psycho Pirate, but rather, a confession to his teammate, Selina Kyle (Catwoman), who was being transferred to Arkham Asylum for allegedly murdering 237 people. In a letter, he told her of a childhood trauma, confiding that he resolved to dedicate his life to crimefighting, only after attempting suicide via razor blade.

It was his way of showing her that there was hope to be reborn, with the admission painted against a backdrop of Batman overcoming an army of attackers. It was a daring revelation by King that spoke volumes of the eternal struggle raging within Bruce Wayne, overcoming despair to find a real purpose. It also showed that he was just as invested as Selina was, in fighting for her life and her very soul, adding another dimension to their complicated love story. The breathtaking visuals made the experience all the richer and continued to show the caped crusader in an inspirational, if decidedly more human light.

INFANTISEID

In “Darkseid War,” every issue raised the stakes, with Issue #50 being the most provocative. It’s not often we see Darkseid killed, let alone twice, and then used as a pawn, but Grail managed to play her father like a fiddle. She manipulated the Anti-Monitor, Crime Syndicate, Steve Trevor and to some extent, the Justice League, in aid of achieving her goals. That comes as no surprise, given how focused she was since Myrina escaped Themyscira with her and raised her as an instrument of war.

In a twist-filled finale, Grail finally grew compassion and understood that she didn’t have to inherit her father’s destructive ways, releasing him from the grasp of the Anti-Life Equation, seemingly at the cost of both her parents. However, she escaped with Darkseid, who was reduced to an infant, and in the closing scenes, was seen soothing him. She told the child how she intended to raise him so that he has a second chance, away from his destiny to conquer and rule with an iron fist. While Grail promised to love him, the cutaway showing the child’s glowing-red eyes was ominous to say the least, hinting at just how much of Darkseid’s power — and demeanor — the child retained.

THE THEMYSCIRA LIE

Greg Rucka and Liam Sharp delivered a game-changer in “Wonder Woman” #11, wrapping “The Lies” arc. Diana’s journey to self-discovery came to a screeching halt as she found out what had been haunting her recently. It was revealed that the Themyscira trips she’d been making in the past were to a fake one and upon discovering the real island, it turned out to be abandoned and derelict, leaving her clueless as to who put up this facade that kept her in the dark all this time.

She and Steve Trevor were left baffled at the run-down, low-tech state of the real island. It was a heartbreaking moment that dealt her a huge blow because of how important it was to her heritage and eventual destiny. In reality, Wonder Woman’s never had a homecoming until now and it’ll be intriguing to see how she traverses across dimensions to try to find the fake Themyscira she’s familiar with and the Amazonians she calls family. With the mirage revealed, fans can’t wait to see what is actually going on, and just who has been messing with the routes whenever she tries to go back.

BRUCE WAYNE RETURNS

Following the Joker’s “Endgame,” Batman was taken off the table, with Bruce being reborn without his memories or crime-fighting skills. James Gordon was then installed as a police-sanctioned Batman, with a high-tech armored suit. However, Scott Snyder brought Bruce back as Batman, reinvigorated like never before. His body was fully-healed and it was indeed a rebirth as he even boasted a cocky sense of humor.

In the issue before, Bruce broke the hearts of his girlfriend, Julia, and Alfred, by stating he wanted to download a copy of his brain back into his body: a contingency plan he always kept in case he died. Alfred didn’t want him erasing his life of happiness, finally, just to go back to the cowl. Jules, on the other hand, eventually got the process started, as she knew the city needed their guardian. Issue #50 saw his return, in a quippy exchange with Bat-Gordon, as he began his retaliation for Bloom’s assault on the city. Bruce stemmed the threat and a hospitalized Gordon would go back to his old job, inspired after realizing just why vigilantes needed to operate outside the law.

GREEN LANTERN HEAVEN

“Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps” #10 told some of the most stellar stories Robert Venditti’s written since dabbling with the mythos. His current “Rebirth” arc saw Hal return as a Green Lantern, forging a new ring from his own will. He was also literally changing into energy, becoming willpower itself after going on the run with the Krona Gauntlet to take the blame for all the Corps’ misdeeds. Re-powered, he ended up fighting a rejuvenated Sinestro in a battle that seemingly cost both their lives, which led Hal to the Emerald Space, aka Green Lantern heaven.

Rafa Sandoval beautifully illustrated Hal’s inspirational meeting with his successor, Abin Sur, as well as emotional moments with deceased Lanterns. It featured heartfelt messages from Katma Tui to John Stewart, and from Tomar-Re to his son, Tomar-Tu, reinvigorating Hal just before he was plucked back to the land of the living by the White Lantern, Kyle Rayner. This issue also offered immense fan service to any Corps fan, setting the stage for Hal to lead an assault on Larfleeze, who had imprisoned the Corps that disappeared and whom Hal was searching for at the end of “The Lost Army.”

SUPERMAN RETURNS

When the New 52 Superman died, he had help in his final mission from the pre-“Flashpoint” Superman, who was living in hiding with his wife, Lois, and their son, Jon. In passing, he made it clear the world needed a Superman and the old-school version decided to take up the mantle once more. In Tomasi and Gleason’s “Superman” #2, he found himself in full, public swing; clean-shaven and back in uniform, just like the good old days, helping out a uranium-powered submarine and its crew.

After he realized that there was no regeneration matrix in the Fortress of Solitude to bring the New 52 Superman back in this universe, vintage Clark knew that it was up to him to replace the hero, not just in Metropolis, but with the Justice League, too. Seeing him take flight and assist like a true boy-scout was both nostalgic and endearing in a way the character hadn’t been in some time, enhanced by how he used the task as a lesson to teach Jon about being a superhero. It was an incredible moment not just for the character, but for DC Comics, as the old Supes triumphantly donned the cape and emerged out of the shadows for truth, justice and the American way once more.

THE WATCHMEN COMETH

Speculation has been rampant that it’s Doctor Manhattan who’s been tinkering with the DC universe all this time, taking a valuable 10 years away from it to create the New 52. While that’s yet to be confirmed in the comics, the “Rebirth” one-shot planted a lot of seeds and colossal moments indicating that the “Watchmen” universe did indeed have an integral hand in shaping things. Johns wrote off Pandora, who many believed was responsible for the era after “Flashpoint” in a manner similar to how Manhattan killed Rorschach, more than suggesting it was his semi-divine hand that had something to do with the soft reboot.

Also, the issue showed Batman finding the blood-tainted smiley face button associated with the Comedian, as well as an ending that depicted what appeared to be Manhattan conversing with Ozymandias while fixing a watch on Mars: all signature stamps of Alan Moore’s epic. Other hints include Manhattan (allegedly) obliterating Owlman and Metron in “Justice League” #50 in what seems to be his distinctive style of dispatching enemies, as well as Mr. Oz’s monitoring and potential manipulation of Superman, not to mention his kidnapping of Tim Drake. With Johns teasing at writing some “Watchmen”-related stuff in 2017, prepare yourselves for even bigger shockwaves when the truth comes out.

WALLY WEST RETURNS

Wally West’s return was one that made grown geeks cry. Taken out the equation after “Flashpoint,” the “Rebirth” one-shot saw him trying to find a tether back to the present reality and away from the Speed Force. He first haunted the Batcave before journeying to the love of his life, Linda Park, but she too had no memory of him. Unsuccessful in finding that anchor point back, he had an emotional last-ditch interaction with Barry Allen. Barry finally remembered Wally and pulled him back into current continuity, with Wally revealing that some omnipotent being — believed to be Doctor Manhattan — warped their reality into the New 52.

Both embraced in a tearjerker moment that had fans rejoicing at the sight of seeing the Flash duo united once more. Wally was younger and wearing the Kid Flash costume, but was clearly relieved to be back to try to fix things. Later, given an upgrade in costume, he’d continue to find clues in “Titans” as to who’s been toying with everyone’s lives. What his return really represented, however, wasn’t just someone to help solve a lingering DC mystery; it offered promise that DC’s universe can be fixed, reshaped into what it should rightfully be.

What do you think was DC’s biggest moment in 2016? Sound off in the comments!

The post DC Comics: The 15 Biggest Moments of 2016 appeared first on CBR.com.

http://ift.tt/2ivrgqZ

[bonesandthebees]

Then we have the call and Hannah! I love this part. It’s so clear how Hannah just doesn’t care. They made an arrangement for blaziphane. As long as you don’t touch that, they don’t care who rules the planet. Everything they do is for their own gain. All they care about is their own people. The sirens (woman even more that men).

And Wilbur and Tommy don’t fall under that. They are male. They are half Sirens. They are too far removed from the crown to be important for inheritance. And Hannah has never met them so she can’t form any personal attachment.

I like how she clearly cares a lot about her own rules and etiquette, but not about those of other planets. Phil is not allowed to call her Hannah. That is her personal name. He needs permission to do so. Phil clearly doesn’t know that. I thought he had been told, though maybe that was just Ranboo. Maybe he knows but didn’t realise how big of a deal it was since he never tried to call Wilbur by his personal name and Wilbur decided to give what he gets for the title thing.

She doesn’t care for Eldignvger ettiquete either. Wilbur is older so Wilbur needs to introduce himself first. Which makes sense. To her he’s not a bastard because their system is maternal and his mother is her aunt. She could care less about who his father is if he wasn’t a human. She’s also slightly offended by the extra name. But like we saw in the flashback. They don’ care enough to make a fuss about it because Wilbur is male.

Also, I love how Wilbur can tell her Voice is strong even through a call. She’s next in line to be queen. She should nave the strongest Voice of them all. So she probably practiced. Also the methodology was really interesting and her outfit is really cool!

-🌲

lmao yup Hannah doesn't give a shit about anything but the blaziphane agreement. Themis is also a very snobbish planet, often thinking of themselves as better than most of the other planets in the galaxy. They don't have a lot of respect for outside customs and etiquette, which they know they can get away with because everyone is afraid of them!

the Myrina comment really pissed Hannah off for two main reasons. One, Phil didn't realize how much emphasis was put on the distinction between personal and formal names. Like he knows there's a distinction, but he figured that since Hannah shares the same name as her mother it would be easier to just avoid confusion and call her Hannah, not realizing what a misstep that was. Two, Hannah is the heir. She's not the Queen yet. she's literally the same age as Wilbur (maybe a year older?) so she's also used to being undermined for her age, especially by foreign politicians, so Phil trying to use her personal name instead of her formal, regnal name also hit a little too close to home with her desire to be seen as a full blown leader in her own right and not just a young princess. hence why she snapped at him so forcefully about it

yeah the Themisians don't give a shit about Eldingvegr etiquette. they don't care what the Eldingvegr royal bloodline is. Tommy and Wilbur are both royal through their Themisian side as well, so the Themisians are always going to default to that when it comes to etiquette. Themis also doesn't really care about the concept of bastards in general, considering most of their rulers are women so it doesn't matter so much who someone's father is. in Themis' eyes, Tommy's only leg up over Wilbur is the fact that he's the heir to Eldingvegr's throne, but ignoring that the two are on equal footing so things default to Wilbur considering he's older

yupppp her Voice is extremely strong. sometimes a siren with an extremely powerful Voice has a subtle hum under all their words even when they're not using it. it just bleeds through, and while it's not the same as them actually using the Voice to command people, it definitely adds an intimidation factor and gives whoever the siren is speaking to the sense that you do not wanna fuck with this person (also ty for the compliment on her outfit, it looks so cool in my head I was so excited to describe it)

[starswornoaths]

In the Pines

All she wanted was her family.

Or: Myrina wakes up alone, and this is a Very Bad Thing.

(side note if you want an extra dose of sad, here’s a song that reminded me of Serella’s childhood after their parents died.)

The first feeling that Myrina was conscious of was her torso feeling as though it had been set on fire.

She had thought to open her eyes but they would not obey her— not even after feeling the odd jostle or shift of movement around her that reignited the agony that had slashed itself across her shoulders, her chest, her abdomen. That she was being moved by vehicle became clearer to her but by whom or to where yet eluded her.

As she mentally negotiated with her eyelids to cooperate, she tested the rest of her limbs. Slowly, painfully, she flexed her every finger, her toes, and though the pain that raced back from the tip of her every appendage to her core was agony, it was also a relief: she yet possessed control of her body. Her worst fears had not yet been realized.

“Hey— hey, I think she’s waking up.” Called a voice, quietly but near where she lie. Her lips parted, though her throat had long since dried, and all she could manage was a raspy sigh. “Easy, easy,” the voice said again— a man’s voice, soft and trying to be comforting. “You took a thrashing back there, but it’s alright, we’ve got you.”

There was a glow— like the early morning sun’s light passing through the bedroom window, and the nostalgic, soothing rush of healing magic splashed across her torso. A chirurgeon, she thought, rapidly becoming more alert.

“Where—” she wheezed, feeling as though her lungs might explode from the effort of speech.

“Shh, shh,” the chirurgeon tried to quiet her. “It’ll be alright, miss.”

“My husband—” Myrina fought the urge to clutch at her side, even as her arm jerked to do so when the pain flared again. “My children—”

Because she needed to know. Even if she ultimately succumbed to her wounds, if she knew her family had made it, it would be fine. The agony of uncertainty threatened to be her ultimate doom. Her heart hammered against her battered ribs and breathing hurt but she clung to consciousness, desperate to know.

“You were the only one we found alive, miss.” The voice reluctantly said. He laid a hand on her head. “I’m so sorry.”

Though the sobs that wracked her body hurt it was nothing to the heartache; she had failed them. She was their spear, their shield, their arbiter of the Fury meant to protect them from harm because she had to be. Because Hanvesh was too injured, and her little ones were yet too little, and she had sworn to herself that she would keep them all under her protection.

And she had lost them.

“Rest now, miss.” The chirurgeon murmured, and she felt something softly pull at the back of her mind. A sleep spell, her mind distantly remembered from her days as a Dragoon. Her resistance, while valiant, was weak, and she felt herself slip into slumber. “We can talk more when you are better.”

Myrina fell asleep praying she would never wake.

So when she opened her eyes sometime later, blinking back the light filtering in through the cloth canopy ahead of her, she added not dying to the list of her failures. She just wanted her family. She just wanted to go home.

The flames that had licked at her every nerve ending had abated somewhat; movement was still agonizing but she could shuffle about without threat of losing consciousness and breathing was no longer a strain on her constitution, and she could consider that progress, miniscule as it was.

Gaining her bearings, she realized that she was in the back of a caravan— by nothing short of divine providence, a travelling healer and his alchemist husband had been making a trek through the Twelveswood on their way down into Thanalan and had passed through where her village had lie in rubble. In speaking with the healer, he explained that he and his husband had searched for more survivors, but had only found her with a pulse.

She provided him, in breathless desperation, a description of her family, of her little Uthen with silver-blonde hair and bright gray eyes and her little Ella with mismatched eyes and dark hair, and of her beloved Hanvesh, he would have long hair carefully groomed into dreadlocks and eyes blue as the sea.

The chirurgeon told her that though he had indeed seen her husband amongst the dead, he had not seen children of her description at all. Speaking with the alchemist, he confirmed that he had only seen her husband, but that he had passed some time before they had arrived. And that had been enough. As she laid there in silent mourning of her beloved she already began to assess how long it would take for the wounds to close; a few hours, perhaps, and they would be mended enough that she could make the journey back to the village. She would bleed, to be sure, and agony was a guarantee but it was kinder than not knowing where her children were.

She left at dawn the next day.

Dissuasion fell of deaf ears as Myrina had simply limped away clutching a walking stick she had found near where the caravan had been parked. They were still in Gridania, on the road that led to Thanalan were she to travel south. She pushed north: she knew this path.

This was the same road that had led her and her sweet Hanvesh to their final adventure together, the same road that he too had limped along to find them a proper place to call home. This road, with its sluggish winding path was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, and though it took more effort— and time— than she would have liked, she had managed to make it back to the ruins of her home by the time the afternoon sun hung high overhead.

“Halone have mercy on my little ones,” she whispered as she neared the edge of the village. “Guide them home to me. Don’t punish them for my sins. Not my babies.” She felt her throat tighten. “Was my husband not enough?”

She found her spear not far from where she had been flung before she had lost consciousness— still whole, miraculously. It felt heavy in her hand but still she clung to it, abandoning her walking stick to replace it with her favored weapon. Pressing on to the town square, her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

Though she was not near enough to see clearly, she could instantly tell which body was her husband.

He had died near the doorstep of their home, now in shambles and splinters and nothing but a distant memory of hearth and happiness. Lying on his back, his hand outstretched, as though he had been reaching for something at the last. She did not know whether it was better or worse that his eyes were not open. She knew even less what she was feeling other than overwhelming pressure threatening to crush her chest in.

Much as she might have wanted to sink down beside him and wait to join him, she continued her search of the area— anything that could point her in the direction of her children, some inkling as to where they had gone.

Myrina limped around neighbors, friends, loved ones that all lie where they had fallen, their bodies echoes of the horror that had been wrought upon them, unrecognizable from the trauma and blood. Shattered homes and the rubble they made littered the area, impeding her laborious search.

The devastation was too familiar for her to pretend to be fine, though too foreign enough to pretend this was Coerthas and the Dravanians had simply extracted another fine of lives and livelihood for the war effort. There was no fire, no smoke, no smell of burning flesh. Though death surrounded her all she could smell was the life of the forests around her, all she heard was birdsong. The Twelveswood got what it wanted in the end; even as she stood among the dead, the forest lived on with no trace of them or their loss. The wood did not care.

Myrina found nothing— it was as though they had vanished without a trace.

Just as she began to limp back to her husband’s body, her eyes spied a corpse she had not seen before: hiding in the remains of their house, there was a body of an adult she did not recognize, with an arrow protruding from their back.

Jarred from her anguish and fighting against the shock of hope that fueled her movements she made her way into the dilapidated home to more closely inspect the body. A miqo'te male lying face down on what had once been their living room floor— she recognized the leather armor he wore, even through the blood that had long since soaked it through: he had been of the Coeurlclaws.

Turning her eye to the arrow, she inspected the feathers for any significance to their color or their shape; perhaps it was a rival group, or a stray poacher’s arrow, or—

Myrina knew those feathers— Hanvesh had traded with a travelling clan Duskwight that moved through the Twelveswood. He had often commented to her that these arrows were of a particularly high quality, and he always readily traded some of his woodworking for a quiver full for hunting their game. The same Duskwight clan who had a little girl that liked to play with Serella and Uthengentle by the river often, whose family had become fairly close to theirs, insofar as their constant moving allowed them to be. They had come here? After the attack on the village, doubtless interrupting the Coeurlclaws from picking over the corpse of the village.

Now she had to try and divine whether the Coeurlclaws had gotten to her children and either took them or killed them...or whether the clan of Duskwight elezen had taken her babies in. That she did not find them among the dead was encouraging, but left too much unanswered for her to know. All this pain, all this anguish, and still she knew no more than she had before she came.

Her breathing ragged and her heart aching, she hobbled as well as her body allowed outside of the house’s remains. Scanning the forest surrounding the village and straining to hear anything other than the fauna around her she desperately searched for a sign that they were still in the area, that the Duskwight clan had simply taken her babies to safety and they were still close.

“Uthen!” She shouted. Her throat scratch and her body burned but she did not stop. “Ella!” She paused, straining to hear more than her echo and the rustle of the leaves. “Uthengentle!” She screamed. “Serella!” It felt as though her throat was being split open but still she screamed, “I’m here, little ones!”

The only answer she received was her own voice reverberating through the trees.

She continued to scream— her children’s names, screamed that she was there, that she needed to see them, that they were scaring her. She screamed and screamed and screamed until she collapsed beside her sweet, kind Hanvesh’s body. Then she screamed just to scream out her anguish. She sobbed into the earth that had dared to steal everything from them, she shrieked and shrieked and shrieked because her family had not deserved this. She howled because no, actually, the Twelveswood will not pretend her village did not exist. It did. And the wood robbed them of their life. She would remind them all day. She had nothing left to do.

Eventually, her voice left her, too, and she was left weeping beside her husband, her mind trying to figure out where to go after this around the sound of her heart breaking. For how could she find her babies? Who could she even ask- if they were alive, they were taken, and she had no real leads that the Wailers would be able to use- or even want to use, based on past experience. 

For all intents and purposes, she had lost her family all over again.

There was a hand on her back- soft, tentative. A voice speaking in her hear; the alchemist, the husband of the conjurer that had found her. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, miss.” He said. “We...we had wanted to come back, before your recovery. We wanted to give these people a proper burial.”

“Thank you,” she rasped. “That means much.”

“We’ll still see that they’re laid to rest,” he reassured her. 

She nodded, not knowing what else she could say. In the distance, somewhere beyond the village’s main square, she heard the conjurer saying a blessing- he must have already buried some of her neighbors.

“Have you other family you can reach out to?” The alchemist asked. “We might help, if you do-”

“None,” she whispered. 

Even if her brother was still alive or Ser Alberic would even recognize her, she was still a dead woman in Ishgard. She had no business there any longer. Hadn’t for over a decade at that point. No sense in haunting them, ghost of her former self as she was.

“If you have nowhere to go- we were heading home,” he began to offer, “to Tailfeather. It’s in Dravania, but-”

Tailfeather. If she had even a fraction of her heart left, she would have laughed in bitter nostalgia. Of all the places that she might find a chance at rebuilding from the shambles of the life she lost, it would be Ishgard’s easily forgotten Dravanian outpost. If there was ever anywhere that was not beneath the boughs of the Twelve that a lancer might easily blend in, it would be there.

“I...have some hunting skill as a lancer,” she answered distantly. She could keep her name- ‘Arcbane,’ meant nothing in those parts, and no one would care to ask so long as she earned her keep. “If it would help your outpost, I would offer you my lance.” 

“Outpost-? You know of Tailfeather?” The alchemist asked, surprised. 

“In passing,” she said, her hazy mind offering an easy cover, one she hadn’t needed to use in some years, “I was an adventurer, before I settled down.”

“Ahh,” he gave a nod, but even still she could not lift her gaze from her husband’s shoulder; she could not bring herself to lift her gaze higher, to look at his vacant face in detail. She chose to know him only as he was when he was alive. “Let us take care of the burials, then, and we can be on our way.” 

Myrina wanted to insist that she be the one to bury Hanvesh. She wanted to be the one to take him to the tree they had picked out, to bury him beneath the boughs he chose for himself. She wanted to be the one to carry him, to lay him to rest with a kiss to his forehead and a tearful smile but she knew her wounds would only open and add to her agony.

“There was a place my husband wanted to be buried,” she said quietly instead, shame filling her that she had to ask another to do what should have been her duty by right. “The great oak tree behind our house...” she drifted, craning her neck as much as she could to look behind the remains of their home.

When the alchemist followed her gaze he gave her a nod. “I see it- ‘tis a fine tree, miss.” He carefully laid a hand over hers and implored her with his eyes, “we’ll be respectful, I promise.”

She had no choice but to believe him, though he was kind enough to help her pick flowers from Hanvesh’s garden and lay them over his eyes. Her last kindness to him. She kissed the flowers over his closed eyes and waited in heavy silence in the humid, still air of the caravan while they did what she could not.

They were...kind, these two. It took hours and there was no promise of a reward but the conjurer and alchemist laid to rest the half dozen villagers that had yet remained unburied. They had helped her walk to Hanvesh’s grave- exactly as he had wanted it- and let her say her goodbyes. They were kinder still as they offered her a spot in their caravan to take her to Tailfeather. 

Her life had always been a cyclical routine of times of suffering and times of plenty. Of having a family and losing it again- though this is only her third go around the cycle of loss, she felt as though she had lived longer than she had. Too long, but she couldn’t end it now. Now she had to live for her family. For all those she had lost. No one else could live for them now but she, after all.

And so she let the caravan take her away from the life she had build toward the shadow of the life she had left behind.