#varellias

[idoodle2draw-marquer]

Art Scuffle attack on a buddy in a server i'm in !!

great excuse for humanoid practice~

[cryptidcommander]

*SCREAMS*

This BEAUTIFUL drawing of Varellias was commissioned from the amazing artist Kagugles! She is one of the best artists I’ve ever had the luck and opportunity to know, (and is actually also the person to introduce me to gw2) and I highly recommend checking her out!

Her commission slots are going pretty cheap right now because she’s moving, so this would be the best time to snipe an amazing drawing for a discounted price! If you’re interested, check it out in the link down below!

Link

Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll keep yelling into the void

[cryptidcommander]

You know, that line “she’s one of our only friends who knew treehorn as well as we did” is funny because one of the drabbles I’ve been planning on working on is one with The Commander tracking Shayed down exactly for that reason

When you’ve lost someone, you’d go to great lemgths to keep the things and people that remind you of them

anet. it's me again. anet its like four in the morning and i can't fall asleep. anet why did trahearne know a murder cultist fish lady? anet why did she owe him a favor? anet

[heyitsmejona]

I was in a mood, so I made a collage featuring Varellias, the commander of @cryptidcommander!

(click on image for better quality!)

[tyrias-library]

Betrayal/Forgiveness

[ Authors Note: This actually wasn’t what I planned to write for this week, but due to certain issues and time constraints I ended up having to start a new story. Still, I’m rather proud of it- and I hope yall enjoy it! Story based off @commanders-sole-braincell amazing Turn against the commander AU] —- When she was a few months old, she had gained her first scar.

It was a small thing, quiet and unassuming from where it was on her chest, just under her ribs. It hadn’t felt that way as she bled out, but after she watched it with a quiet sort of pride- it was hers now, ugly and twisted as it was, but hers to love and hate for the memory of battle as she pleased. She chose to love it and moved on. When she was a little older, the leaves on the back of her neck darkening, she lost a little more skin to a wound, dark and twisted. It was a little harder to love this one. The memory of Gavin’s blade on her neck was too fresh, and the grief she felt too strong.

When she was older still, she got yet another scar, and yet another part of her to hate quietly- and another, and another, until she couldn’t remember why she would have ever loved in the first place.

(When Varellias is a few years old, the people begin to whisper.) —- See, she always knew she would protect people someday.

Maybe it’s just her, and a handful of sylvari besides, but- she doesn’t think she can remember a time where she ever thought different. She was born with a weapon in her hands and a call in her bones, echoing, echoing. She would have never been something different than what she is, even if some days she wishes it, even if some days she grows cold with all that she’s failed to protect. And there are so many, but she doesn’t let it stop her, not really. There are things to do and people to save, and she’s needed, even if some days she’d rather let the earth swallow her up than pick up her bow again.

She’s just-

So tired though.

She doesn’t think she’s felt truly rested in a while, and she’s tired of all these battles and fights and petty power struggles that’s taking her attention off what’s truly important. She’d sworn to defeat the dragons but somewhere down the line her vow grew bigger and more crushing, took in so much weight and never quite let it go. She’d sworn to defeat the dragons and that was her own personal vow, quiet and soft with only one other to hear. But everyone tells her that they need her, and then she’s The Commander, protecter of the weak, savior of the innocents, and-

She can’t save everyone.

She can try, but that’s all she can do.

The people can’t seem to understand though, turning to her with answers she can’t give, support she can’t always grant, and it hurts, it burns, and sometimes she wants to- maybe- jump off the pedestal they’ve put her on and tell them to put someone else on it.

She won’t, because she swore (to her mother in the beginning, and later when the words began to lose their weight, to a loved one.) and because in the end, this is what she was made for, this is her life, this is the smiles and relief and hearts still beating because she hasn’t broken and never will.

(See, the people of Tyria always knew The Commander would snap someday.) —- She remembers being weak, of course she does. Back in the beginning her fingers would bleed every time she strung her bow and her arms would ache from its weight. She used to miss, in the beginning, and now she can shoot an apple at five paces, ten, fourteen, a hundred, but she used to miss at four. She’s stronger now, but she doesn’t think she can ever forget.

Normal children- even if she’s never really been a child- don’t learn the right amount of pressure to snap necks or learn the acrid taste of poison, but she did. She did it because it was expected, at first, when Caithe and Mother and the Dream had been all she knew. Later she would do it so that others wouldn’t have to, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred. (Zott was killed by an arrow. That had been the first time she would shoot at a thousand paces.)

Nowadays her arrows always hit their mark, but she’s not quite proud still. There are many things she can be proud of but this isn’t one of them- it’s not yet enough. She needs to be stronger. She needs to make it so she won’t lose anyone again.

(Tyria doesn’t remember The Commander being weak, of course it doesn’t.) —- She misses being part of a set, having someone to lean on. She still is apart of one in a way, The Commander of The Pact, The Leader of Dragon’s Watch, but she used to be Varellias, and her name had never been used alone. It had always been VarelliasandTrahearne and TrahearneandVarellias, the Firstborn and the Valiant, The Commander and The Marshall. (Varellias and Trahearne, and she misses him.)

She tells people he was her best friend, but that’s a lie- she tells people he was her brother, and that’s a lie too, really, where it counts.

She tells no one that it’s complicated, that he’s something irreplaceable, and now she’s stumbling in the dark, now she’s lost a limb. The truth is that she loves him more than she would love a brother, more than she would a friend. The truth is that she loves him that way now, but she didn’t always- she’d only kissed him once while they both lived, and she hadn’t felt a thing about it.

The truth is that he took her breath away and never quite gave it back, and she- she killed him for the world, and for his sake, and she thought Oh. She thought this is love, this is what he felt, and she never had felt this way before.

The truth is that she kissed him twice, and she had felt far too much with the second.

(The people miss seeing her part of a set, having someone to keep her in line.) —- Peace has no place for A Commander, she thinks. The battle is over, the war is won, and she- she can finally rest now. There will always be people to fight and people to protect, but the worst of it is over, and she can do anything she wants, at least for a little while. She can put down her bow and her quiver and go back to Caledon to bury herself in the familiar smells and the sound of rain. She can visit Divinity’s Arch to meet Logan, she can go to Orr and watch the sun set over the slowly healing land, she can just stay here in Lion’s Arch and rest if she so wishes, without the weight of her title and vow tight around her neck. She can do it. It’d almost be enough to make her cry, if she was the type of person who cried.

Normal adults- even if she had never really been normal- know how to have a life outside of battle and fighting and war and she doesn’t. But she can learn now. She has time, and she has people she had managed to save, and it’s… not perfect, but good, and it’s enough for her.

(The Commander has no place for peace. They think.) —- When they finally come for her, bearing weapons and shouting her name, she isn’t surprised. She feels betrayed because of course she does, she lied and died and bled for this people and they won’t do the same for her, even if she would never ask- but she isn’t surprised. She’d seen a lot of bad in the world, so much evil to go along with the good, and she isn’t surprised. (She wishes she could be though. Maybe it’d hurt less, to not be expecting it. Maybe it’d hurt more.)

They come for her, and she sends her friends away, those that will go- it’s less than she expected, even if she knows her own worth. She has to fight the rest of them to get them to stay behind, those she loves so fiercely and who love her just as much. It hurts, more than anything, that. A sharp and burning ache that creeps up her ribs and echo in her bones- she loves them. She tells them this as she says goodbye. Her bow is in pieces scattered across the ground.

They come for her, and she meets them at the gates. They loved her once, she knows, but they’ve suffered too much to remember. She could hate them for it, she knows. She could prove their fears right, show them what they really should be scared of, but she broke her bow over her knee earlier and left her dagger with Caithe.

She’d bled for this land and lost for this land and died for its people. She has nothing but herself left to offer. So that’s what she gives, and she doesn’t hate them for it, not really- she’d forgiven them long before the first soldier came knocking on her doors.

(When they finally come for her, bearing weapons and shouting her name, they’re surprised.)

(The Commander comes with them peacefully, with a quiet little smile that shook them down to their very bones. The memory of it stayed with them long after the blood was scrubbed clean from the earth.)

[commanders-sole-braincell]

REVENGE FOR MAKING ME CRY SOLE, R E V E N G E!! But I’m glad that you liked it and liked Varellias! She’s my commander and I love her so much sob :,) Also Also, since Sylvari have no parents unless the pale tree counts, imagine the sylvari commander just... calling Rytlock dad one day because people told them that a dad is someone who takes care of you and helps u etc etc, and they’re just “That sounds like Rytlock and Logan guess they’re my dads now??” -Awakened Anon-

I’m love her please tell me everything? I must know more!

Ahhhhh that’s so cute and so sad!!! Rytlock and Logan having no idea how to react and, wait, if  a Sylvari Commander see’s Rytlock and Logan as their dads, could they also see Eir and Zojia as ‘mams’? I know we have the Pale Tree but she’s not around much and I’m a real big sucker for found family

Also fbhhs they call out “Dad” by accident one time and Logan and Rytlock both turn - so it’s a three way embarrassed street as all three stand there before agreeing it’s never mentioned again

[leosault]

Princess Erica Varellan of Varellia

"Cheren, it's time for your greeting lessons, dear." Erica looked up to see her mother stood over her and her brother, who had been reading quietly next to her. Cheren looked at his younger sister and raised his eyebrows in smug satisfaction. Erica simply huffed in response and went back to reading her book. She was sick of the fact that her brother, who was only twenty years her senior, was being groomed for royalty and she was left to her own devices. Her parents, the king and queen of Varellia, were under the impression that Erica would never see the throne and it hurt her deeply. Despite her brother's apparent attempts to coerce them into training Erica as well, Erica still resented him after she had once overheard a damning conversation between Cheren and their father that always replayed in her mind whenever he was called away for his royal grooming.

It was during the previous summer and she had spent the afternoon in the royal gardens with her brother reminiscing about their childhoods and talking about how the official royal training would be starting soon. Erica and Cheren had always gotten on well beforehand; the fact they were so close in age was a key factor in their closeness. When they had gone back into the palace they were greeted by the royal advisor and Erica and Cheren had looked at each other in excitement. "This way..." said the advisor and held out his arm to indicate the room in which they were headed. Erica and Cheren began to walk towards the door when the advisor raised his hand in front of Erica. "I'm afraid the Princess is not required." he said abruptly and turned away from her to follow Cheren. Cheren looked back at his sister in confusion but was guided into the room by the advisor before he could say anything. Erica could hear the mumbled voices of her mother and father greeting Cheren that were soon silenced when the advisor closed the door shut behind them. Erica felt dejected, why would they train her brother to become a future king and not train her to be a future queen? There was only 20 years between them which in elven terms made them practically the same age and it wasn't like she was uneducated or not knowledgeable enough to become queen; she spent most of her time studying history and the arcane arts.

Determined to discover that there was just some kind of mix up, Erica decided she would try and listen in onto what was happening to see if she could work out why she wasn't invited. She took one of the secret passages in the west wing of the palace that she knew went along the back wall of the room they were in. Once inside, she found a small crack in the stonework and pressed her ear up against it.

"What you've got to understand, Cheren my dear boy, is that your sister is not like you or I. She covets beauty and magic over the wellbeing of others. She wouldn't last five days as queen."

"That is not true! She cares for us and I have seen her at balls and galas. She definitely cares about the nobles and the people she meets. And what is wrong with seeing the beauty in this world and understanding her gift? I sense there is more to this that you are not telling me."

The king paused and sighed deeply. "Fine. You see... Varellan girls, whether born a Varellan or having birthed a Varellan child, have a curse that has plagued our family for millenia. The moment they reach the age of 200, their looks deteriorate rapidly. Your mother here used to be a fine beauty, if you can believe that, and now, well... look at her." Erica frowned in anger at the remark but noticed that her mother didn't correct him or oppose what he had said at all. Maybe there was truth in her father's horrible words.

"Erica will be no different" continued the king, Erica listening intently once more. "and by the time she would come to the throne, if ever, she would be downright hideous. The populace would never accept rule from a disgusting hag as reigning Queen." The king chuckled but cleared his throat when no one laughed with him. "You know, as soon as she was born and we discovered she was a girl, I ordered for her to be left at the orphanage. Your mother, however, persuaded me not to. I was only trying to protect the image of our empire! With that in mind, once Erica withers she will likely be shunned so you would be better off to exile or imprison her before she ruins your image as future king."

Erica's chest felt as if she had been impaled by a fencepost. The thud of feeling that hit her almost physically knocked her back and tears began to fill her eyes as she bit her lip to stop any sobs from sounding out. Her hope to become a monarch lay shattered inside of her but for a brief moment, she knew her brother would help piece it back together by arguing her case with their parents. That glimmer of hope was soon destroyed when she heard her brother suddenly burst into laughter instead.

"Well at least my throne will be safe once I succeed!"

Erica couldn't listen to any more. She ran back out of the passage in tears and straight up into her chamber, sat on her bed and continued to weep. How could her brother turn on her so easily like that? How could her own family, who she loved dearly, disregard her so easily purely because of some apparent curse? Her own father was willing to abandon his daughter at the city's orphanage just to protect the royal image! After hearing all this, Erica spent the next few days in her room crying but even once she had finally run out of tears, the hurt still continued. Her relationship with her brother became one of secret loathing and while she had never divulged the fact she had overheard that despicable conversation, there seemed to be a mutual feeling between them that each other knew about it. Their parents acted as if nothing had ever happened and Erica tried not to let it show that their silence on the matter hurt more. She would never forgive the words her father had said and the fact her mother wouldn't even stand up for Erica was also unforgivable in her eyes. This left Erica completely conflicted. She loved her family but also hated them all at the same and her heart felt as if it was tearing in two every time she saw them. If they had all been honest with her and hadn't been so insulting then Erica thought she would have eventually been able to get over the lies but the disregard for her entire existence and future is what pained her the most and had left her in this torn state. To hear that they had already had plans to exile or imprison her and that she was almost abandoned as a baby had cut so deeply that ever since then, she had been obsessed with breaking the curse and keeping her beauty, no matter the cost.

Maybe...

Maybe if I find a way to break the curse...

They will accept me.

If I stay beautiful...

I will be loved and adored.

I am beautiful...

I need to stay beautiful...

To be loved...

They only want beautiful things?

Then I will dedicate my life to sustaining beauty.

Beauty...

...equals love.

As soon as Cheren and their mother had left the library, Erica quickly stepped to the back of the library to continue what she had been doing since the day of that hurtful eavesdrop. For the past several months she had scouring all the books she could find that might have any kind of information on their family's curse or ways to keep her beauty. After several hours of searching well into the night, Erica closed the book she was reading with a huff as yet again she found no mention of their curse. As she pushed the book back on the shelf, she heard a thud from the other side of the bookcase, as if she had pushed a book out with the book she was replacing on the shelf. She wandered around the bookcases into the next aisle and saw a peculiar looking book and a small painting on the floor in front of her. She bent down to pick it up and her eyes never left the painting for a second as she stood upright once more. It was a painting of a beautiful elven woman dated some 250 years or so ago that looked vaguely familiar. Erica noticed the artist's signature as one of the royal painters and turned the painting over. Scribbled on the back was a date and the name 'Shira Varellan'.

Erica's mother.

Erica quickly turned the painting back around and stared at the portrait once more. Her mother had been astoundingly beautiful and yet ever since Erica had been alive, a mere 106 years, she had known the withered, average looking woman who had raised her. Erica quickly did the maths, her mother was 447 years old; which meant she was 341 when she gave birth to Erica and would have been 197 when the painting was commissioned - just three years before the curse struck. Erica took the book and painting back to the desk in the dark corner of the library and clicked her fingers, lighting the candle on the desk and the immediate area dimly with her magic. When she finally put the painting down and looked at the book, Erica noticed it was old and peculiar as it had strange symbols all over the cover and what looked to be some kind of ancient writing. She opened it up and was met with more ancient language and some strange and disturbing diagrams. There were creatures and demons depicted - the likes of which Erica had never seen - and they were performing all kinds of horrendous acts and rituals on what looked to be humans. She flicked through the book briefly and saw that most of the pages were very much like this and placed it back on the desk, leaning back in her chair and sighing deeply. Seeing her mother in this new light and confirming the curse was real made her want to break the curse so much more but it looked seemingly more impossible than ever. "I just want to keep my looks forever..." she said to herself as she slowly began losing the will to search for a way to break this seemingly inevitable fate.

Suddenly, the book started to jitter on the desk in front of her and black smoke started to rise up from its pages. Erica gasped as a dark shadow leapt out of the book and landed beside her. The shadow then transformed into the form of a giant marble-white humanoid creature with tattered grey wings.

"I believe I can help you with your dilemma." the demon said, smirking at Erica whilst stretching his muscles. "Ugh, it's been a while since I've been in this mortal realm." Erica continued to gaze at the sight before her, open-mouthed and speechless. "Let me elaborate. I'm-"

"Malkizid..." interrupted Erica, recognising the demon almost instantly. She gazed into the dark pits where his eyes should have been and gulped slightly. She had read about his betrayal of the High Solar and being cast into the Nine Hells, even his exile to the Blood Rift. She knew of his very distinct and chequered history with elven-kind and had her wits about her until she had a better idea of his intentions.

"Ah, I see from your face that you are familiar with my work. Well, let us skip the pleasantries and get down to business."

Erica glared at him warily and never let her gaze falter as he got down on one knee to bring his ten feet tall frame a little closer down to her level.

"I can grant you lifelong beauty. I can freeze your current appearance in time so you will never look a day older than you are now until your dying day, whenever that may be. Visually, you will never age, and you shall not succumb to the effects of the curse that haunts your family."

If a demon wasn't knelt before her, Erica would have hugged whoever had said such words to her and would celebrate wildly. However, Erica was well read on demons and knew that offers like this did not come out of the kind will of their hearts.

"And the catch? What do you get out of this?" she asked confidently, making sure to show the demon she could not be intimidated into making an unfavourable deal.

"All I require is the soul of the King's first born. Your brother. Kill him and I will fulfil your desire. Failure to do so and I will take yours instead."

Erica's eyes widened.

"Before you answer" the demon continued before Erica could respond, "I must explain the manner of this task. The only way I can acquire his soul for the purpose I intend for it is if he is slain by a certain artefact of elven make. I do not know what it is or where to find it, but I do know that it will react to your touch, revealing itself to me. I shall inform you when you have found it and your fratricidal plot can begin."

Erica sat in silence to ponder over the offer. Her first instinct was to take it; not only would she break the curse so her family would truly love her but it would also put her first in line for the throne. Then the reality hit. She would have to find the object without anyone knowing what or why she was looking for it. She couldn't hire anyone to search for it as she was the one who had to touch the item. Getting people to bring items to her would raise too many questions. Would she have to leave the city and search for it herself? It could be anywhere; and Erica had never left the city, let alone ventured outside the kingdom. Perhaps she could learn to become an adventurer; they travelled the world and she could also pick up some skills that could help her assassinate her brother and get away with it. There may even be someone who could teach her how to use her magic effectively, rather than the small prestidigitation she could perform currently. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. Learning from books and teachers would make her a fine queen, but learning from real world experiences would make her a great queen.

"Very well demon, we have a deal. What would the time frame be for such an endeavour?" Erica asked tentatively.

"Before I end your life and take your soul, you mean? You have until your 200th nameday, when the curse takes effect. After that point, I cannot reverse the effects of such an affliction. And I will take my payment. As a sign of good will though, I shall begin the process of fulfilling your desire as soon as you sign the pact." The demon produced a piece of parchment, laid it on the table before Erica and handed her a quill that looked like it came from one of his tattered wings. "If that's all, sign the pact and we have a deal."

Erica read the pact carefully, took a deep breath and signed it. Just as she laid the quill down she felt a short sharp slash through the palm of her hand and looked down to see the gleaming scarlet of her blood drip down onto the parchment and form a perfectly round blob. She watched as it slowly flattened out and turned into a seal depicting two halves; half of Malkizid's mark on one side and half of the Varellen royal seal on the other. Erica's hand suddenly stopped bleeding as the wound sealed itself and the pain faded away almost instantly. She looked up at the demon as he rolled up the parchment and held it in his large fist.

"You'll notice your hand hasn't scarred or even left a mark. A perk of my gift to you and proof of my word." the demon said as Erica looked up from her hand. "I've also amplified your magic somewhat and bestowed additional powers upon you to help with your journey. You are now a warlock, myself as your patron, and will learn a unique school of magic under my patronage. I will also grant you additional skills and powers if I feel you are learning well. You have an arcane focus I presume?"

Erica shook her head.

"Do you have an item you keep on your person that is important to you?" the demon inquired. Erica looked about her person but all she could find was an intricately detailed handmirror with a green silk ribbon tied around the greenish-gold handle. "I have this; my brother gave it to me as a child for when I used to play dress-up. I only keep it on me for fixing my hair occasionally." The demon smirked and Erica took that as a good sign. "Perfect. The link to your brother will improve your affinity to the magic of our pact. That mirror is now the source of your new power and you must treat it like an extension of you. Guard it well." Erica nodded and looked down at the handmirror which now seemed to give off a faint silvery glow.

"I'll see you soon I hope, and not in 94 years time." Malkizid smirked before turning into the shadowy creature once more and leaping back inside the book. The book closed itself with a jolt as the last of the black smoke was sucked into the pages. The book then caught fire and turned to ash in front of Erica's very eyes before a seemingly impossible breeze whipped the ash into the air and swirled it towards an open window and out into the night air.

Erica looked at the mirror again and noticed that she looked ever so slightly different. She looked closer and noticed that her small imperfections had seemed to have disappeared and her pale skin was now flawless. Her emerald eyes shone a more vivid green than ever before and her ruby red lips seemed to be just that tiny bit more plump. She was at her peak of beauty and while Malkizid had said he would freeze her current looks in time, Erica figured that he must have given her just a little boost before freezing her looks as further proof of his word. She smiled broadly and stood up taking a quick look around to make sure she was still alone.

Erica realised that if she was to venture out and become an adventurer, she would have to leave unannounced and discreetly. Leaving the palace was easy as she was left to her own devices most of the time anyway but leaving the city would be a a little more difficult. She was the beautiful princess of Varellia and would be recognised instantly by anyone in the city. She would have to leave now, tonight, in the dark of night if she was to have any chance of escaping undetected.

After grabbing a few supplies from around the palace and a large black robe from the cloakroom, she left the palace quietly whilst putting on the dark robe, blending her into the night. Sneaking through the city was simple; she knew it like the back of her hand and so took a route through the less populated and residential areas of the city where everyone was either resting or too drunk to notice her. Getting through the main gate however, would be a different matter. As she approached silently, she noticed a couple of guards leaning up against the wall of the guard station chatting about nothing in particular. Erica wondered if she could distract them with some of this new magic she had been bestowed with. She pulled out her handmirror and held it towards the guards. She focused her mind and her magical energy down through her arm and into the mirror. Suddenly a large beam of crackling energy blasted from her mirror and sent the guards crashing through the wooden wall. Erica almost shrieked in shock but quickly darted through the gate and out into the forest before the guards could gather themselves. That's if they were even alive at all; Erica was too panic stricken and intent on escaping to have any form of concern over the two men she may have just crushed to death with magic.

Once far out into the forest, Erica lowered her hood and thought about her next move. She knew of a ruin nearby that contained many tiefling artefacts but she knew that there was a famous elven artefact amongst them that could well be what she was searching for. However, the ruin was ransacked and pillaged years ago and most of the items were stolen, and the tieflings killed. All except one. The small tiefling girl that occasionally appeared all over the kingdom. The tales told that this girl had been the only survivor of the raid and was only ever spotted amongst civilisation in search of food before disappearing as quickly as she appeared. No one knew where she lived; the ruin had been searched for scraps many times since the raid and no one had come across the girl and she definitely wasn't seeking refuge in any of the towns. If she was living in the city, Erica would know about it so she searched the depths of her local knowledge to try and figure out where she could be.

Suddenly, Erica was hit by a brainwave. She had read that the tiefling ruins had once been a grand underground city of beautiful blue and green stone that shone brighter than the midday sun. There was only one place in the kingdom Erica knew of that was anything like that environment and only the royal family knew about it. The Crystal Caves of Ellesfir were a set of former mines that her ancestors had discovered when the kingdom was in its infancy. They used the gemstones and precious metals found in them to create the first crown of Varellia back when the Ellesfir family were the chief crafters and artisans for the Varellan royal family. However after they betrayed the Varellans and were exiled from the kingdom, they were slowly written out of the history of Varellia and the caves were long forgotten. Erica knew of them thanks to her love of history and recalled that they were described as having 'walls of coloured crystal in all colours of the rainbow'. Erica was willing to bet the tiefling was living there.

After a few days of travelling, Erica located the caves and walked inside anxiously. She had no idea what this girl was like; she could be feral, aggressive towards outsiders, territorial over her caves, anything. Erica's nerves dissipated though when she caught sight of the beauty that was the inside of the caves. They were more beautiful than the books could ever have described and she was mesmerised by the incredible colours shining through the crystal walls. She didn't know how long she had been just staring and taking in the incredible aesthetic before a small quirky voice broke her from her trance.

"Hi new person!"

[cryptidcommander]

Varellias would be somewhat chill with everything, be the one to encourage this new commander to relax, although she does secretly wish she could go to the afterlife and actually rest in peace. She does NOT like the fact that there’s someone new who’s going to have to suffer under the burdens of the Commander like she did.

I’m not sure what skills she would have actually- probably dominantly animal based?? Idk

Future Guild Wars game where the two elite specs for revenant are Trahearne and The Commander so they can be together again at last. Anet pls hire me…..

[cryptidcommander]

This is how it starts: you are young and unafraid, your new title a warm weight between your shoulder blades. You feel like you could do anything, like you could kill Zhaithan with nothing but a bow and arrow- and you will, but that is later and this is now.

You come find him and you’d love to say that the first words you say as The Commander are “Are you okay?”, but no. That’s a lie. The first words you say as The Commander are “What are you doing?” as you sit next to him. You’re too young and too small to read him yet, wearing a title with too much space for mistakes, a coat three sizes too large. He knows it but you don’t, and you watch him watch the clouds drift by.

“Thinking.” He says, and he offers you a smile. It’s sweet and small and just a little tired. You think it’s dangerous, the way moths think flames are dangerous. “This is... a lot to take in.”

“Are you worried about being Marshall? You don’t have to worry. You’ll do a great job.” You tell him, and you mean it. You’ve seen the way he had stood in the vision, straight backed and proud, and you don’t know it yet but one day he will be great and you will be there to see it. “Caithe and I think so. So does the Pale Tree.”

“I’m a scholar, not a fighter.” He murmurs after a moment’s pause, and this is it: the moment you step off a cliff and fall and keep falling, the first (but not last) time he takes your breath away. You act on impulse and reach over to take his hand, and his gaze is shocked and a little wild with hesitation as you let your smile grow.

“It’s alright,” You reply, and you’ve fallen off a cliff but now it feels like you’ve gained wings. “I’ll always be there to save you.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to say, so you say it for him. “I’m your second in command after all. That’s what The Commander is for.” His hand is limp in your grip and then he laughs, soft and delicate and wobbly and strong, spun silk and spiderwebs pulling at your skin.

“Really?” He says after it’s over, and you nod because he’s taken your voice along with your breath. You’d do it for him, and as you’re beginning to realize, you’d do a lot to keep him safe.

(There will come a day where he would never doubt your loyalty and your love, nor you his- but that is later, between The Marshall and The Commander, and right now it’s just you and him.)

“Really!” You tease, warm and warmer. “All you have to do is ask, and I’ll come save you.” And he chuckles and you don’t know what the two of you will become just yet, but you know that whatever it is, it will be great.

(One day you will both stand at the edge of slow healing Orr, and he has an arm slung across your shoulders while you have a hand pressed onto his stomach, fingers splayed out and warm- you never would have predicted you could have loved someone this much, but what he is is great and you are so glad you were here to see. “I told you you would be a great Marshall,” You tell him and he laughs wetly; you feel like you could fly.)

—-

“Trahearne, ask me to save you. All you need is to ask..!”

Her voice warps and cracks like ice splintering underfoot and you, you’re broken- This is the price of her devotion, that she is undone by the words you are about to say, that she would do anything for you, even that.

You could order her to save you. You could ask her to take you away. You could tell her you want to be someone protected, someone saved. She would save you if you asked. If you were a little less kind, a little more cruel, perhaps you would.

(She would do it, and you. You know exactly how devoted she is to you. You know she would pull you free from the vines and hold you close and smile smile smile, even as Mordremoth claws his way back into the world, even as cities and kingdoms burn around the two of you, even as the stars are torn out of the sky. And at the end, when the world is empty, the rest of Tyria dead around your feet, and you are both struck down- she would smile still. She would believe, sincerely, heartbreakingly, that she had done the right thing. She would die keeping a promise she made years and thousands of miles away to you, die knowing she had condemned a thousand others to her fate, and she would not regret it. Not if it’s for you.

You can’t do that to her, see? You can’t let her turn into that monster.)

“Trahearne.” She begs, and you exhale, try your best to smile. You’re so so tired, but you try, for her. “Tell me you want to be saved.”

She would do anything, if you ask.

“Commander,” You whisper, and you watch her choke on her sobs, her eyes desperate and wild with unspoken pleas. “Please. Kill me.”

—-

This is how it ends: you are old and empty, your title a suffocating burden on the small of your back, and he is gone- you feel like you can’t do anything, hollowed out and empty. You feel like you’ve died as well.

You wish that you had died as well.

[cryptidcommander]

Good cop, Bad cop, Sib Cop. (Based on this post.)

Bonus:

[cryptidcommander]

oh

[cryptidcommander]

Tagged by @commanders-sole-braincell !

― your muse’s name:  Varellias

― a favorite picture/face claim of your muse:

(I rarely screenshot/make gw2 edits, this is the only pic I have rip)

― two headcanons you have for your muse:

-No one recognizes her as the pact commander when she’s not working/in her Commander outfit. The reverse is also true: No one recognises The Commander as Varellias, and in fact, there’s very little people outside of her immediate circle of friends that even know her real name. The Sylvari all know Varellias as the kind and helpful folk hero who never fails to visit and lend a hand, but no one has made a connection between her and The Commander, who’s an almost mythic figure they barely ever get to see. It’d be like saying that the neighbour is beyonce: It’s simply not possible. (She didn’t really plan for this happening, but it does make taking a break from her duties easier.)

-She has thin scars all over her fingers and hands as a consequence of having a bow as her main weapon. These days her fingers have hardened and she wears gloves, so she doesn’t cut herself that easily anymore, but occasionally she might slip up and end up getting cut by the bowstring again.

― Three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

-Going back to Caledon and helping raise and care for the Fern Hounds.

-Contacting friends like Demmi, people who she often goes a while without seeing/just being with her loved ones in general

-Visiting Memorials

― seven people your muse loves/likes:

- Trahearne.

- Dragon’s Watch (Canach included)

- Destiny’s Edge

- Demmi

- Tybalt

- Elli

- Malyk

― a phobia your muse has:

Claustrophobia: It’s not very severe, but she doesn’t deal with small spaces well.

Pyrophobia: She had always been mildly uncomfortable around fire but after the Departing she can’t stand to be around them. Even being too close to a campfire brings back too much bad memories. (She hasn’t been able to use torches or other flaming weapons since then)

-----

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it, go for it!

[cryptidcommander]

I'M HERE FOR ALL THE COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIPS! Hmm, how about this one, 🔪, beyond canon kills, who else has little Var had (or wishes) to end? - Numbered Anon

She’s not someone who likes violence for the sake of violence, and she hasn’t killed anyone beyond absolute necessity/canon kills. It isn’t like she lacks in strength to simply subdue more mundane threats.

THAT SAID... She’s this close to assasinating Bangar. If Rytlock asked, she might actually do it.

[cryptidcommander]

All the numbers for Var? >:3ccc

1. On a scale of “is occasionally forced to bathe” to “Instagram model with sponsors to hoe for” how involved is your OC’s Skincare routine?

Varellias bathes, that’s it. She hates getting stuff on her skin.

2. What are your OC’s food preferences (flavors/textures/spiciness/calories/ when and how they eat) and how did they get that way?

She’s really fond of fruits and vegetables- she can eat meat, but she won’t unless forced to. (Cooked meat or just meat in general reminds her too mch of Risen and Forged.) Her favorite foods tend to be those that aren’t too overwhelming in flavour; after all those solo trips out in Orr and Maguuma and often having to go without food for the night in the interest of mantaining supplies, her stomach isn’t built for anything too fatty or rich. Porridge, salads and fruits are okay, soup is fine, but anything else runs the risk of her throwing up.

3. What’s something pointless/petty/unimportant that IRRATIONALLY ANNOYS THE HELL out of your OC?

Hmm… I don’t think she has any pet peeves actually, she’s pretty chill. 

4. What’s your OC’s response to being asked for money by a homeless person?

She would give it, she has way too much money on her hands. The only thing that would make her hesitate is if the one asking is showing obvious signs of using the money for less than acceptable causes, but generally she just gives it.

5. Does your OC get lost easily? What do they do when they do get lost?

For a ranger, Varellias has horrible navigation skills. At the very least when she’s outside she can usually take to high ground to figure out where she is (she’s a very good climber) but in buildings or airships?? She can be staring at a map and still get lost.

6. What would STOP your OC from Doing The Right Thing in a tense situation?

The people she cares about. If they were threatened, or hurt, or in danger, or even if they just ask… She’d once almost doomed the world for her best friend. She has unhealthy levels of devotion.

7. Realistically, could your OC (in their normal circumstances- i.e. at thier own house/battlecamp/spaceship etc.) keep a small child alive for a week if they had to?  A Dog?  A Houseplant? A rock with a smiley face painted on?

Well, yeah! She has a lot of pets, practically raised Taimi, took good care of Aurene. She’s a solid A+ choice for a babysitter, whatever she’s taking care of would be the safest thing in the world.

8. f your OC had to take the S.A.T. tomorrow with one night to prep, how would they do?  both emotionally and academically.

Probably badly if she only had one night to prep, but I can’t see her caring all too much anyway. 

9. What would cause your OC to chose to do something petty/pointlessly cruel?

Grudges, and again, if it relates to the people she cares about.

10. On a scale of “Complete and Justified nervous breakdown” to “Conquer The Entire Galaxy and become an Immortal God-Emperor”, how well would your OC handle being abducted by Aliens?

“Breaks out and utterly destroys the spaceship she was in”.

11. What song is 100% guaranteed to get your OC beyond turnt and will be sung loudly and embarrassingly, either in public or the shower?

She never sings, but she can be persuaded to hum and whistle “Don’t fear the night”.

12. What perfectly-normal-to-them-thing does your OC do that confuses/pisses off/terrifies their neighbours?

What do you mean, normal people don’t trap the area around them before going to sleep? It’s just common sense!!

13. Under what circumstances would your OC appear naked in public?

A dare. She takes promises very seriously.

14. What thing did your OC’s parents do that your OC wishes they had a better explanation for?

Why did the Pale Tree never offer more support to Caithe or Trahearne or Canach? Didn’t she notice that they weren’t doing well? Varellias is… not sure if she can forgive her mother for that, and for what happened in Heart of Thorns. It’s strained their previously close relationship heavily.

15. How often does your OC “zone out” or do things on autopilot and how severe have the problems that have arisen from that been?

VERY RARELY. She’s incredibly focused, and her mind isn’t likely to wander.

That said… She was basically unresponsive after Heart of Thorns. Her body was going on autopilot while her mind was near cataconic- she did things numbly, couldn’t focus, wandered in a fog. It took her a very while to recover, and in that period of time her friends had to step up to keep her out of trouble.

16. How strong or weak is your OC’s Impulse control? What’s the worst thing that happened becuase of thier Impulsivity or inability to be so? 

 Varellias actually has pretty decent impulse control for a commander- but she only has it as The Commander. Outside of battle her impulse is basically “ride or die!”. Ask anyone about The Commander and they would say that she’s an amazing coolheaded fighter, and then ask anyone about Varellias, and they’d tell you about how she jumped out of the Pale Tree’s chamber last week and crashed into Canach like a missile. 

17. How does your OC sabotage themselves? 

 Not sure how to answer this question, but she does have the habit of pulling her punches when fighting more mundane threats outside dragons/gods, which has on more than one occasion caused her to take far more severe injuries than she would have otherwise taken. 

 18. What’s the trashiest item in your OC’s wardrobe, when was the last time they wore it and why do they still have it? 

 It’s the Starborn Outfit, which she has been wanting to set on fire for a while now. The only reason she’s keeping it is because (1) the rest of the DW keeps stopping her, those traitors and (2) it was a gift. She last tried it on when it was given to her and never again. 

19. How Dehydrated is your OC right now? Are they going to fix this? 

 She’s staying hydrated! Gotta water the plant! 

 20. What’s your OC smell like?  no, not that “Vanilla and Anxiety” evocative stuff, realistically.  Body odor? what have they been touching all day? When was thier last shower? Did they put on any kind of artificial scent? 

 Thanks to being a Sylvari, Varellias has a pretty distinctive scent. It changes slightly depending on her surroundings, but the majority of the time she generally smells either like crushed rosemary or grass after the rain. Tried perfume once during a social event when Kas offered, but it just clashed with her natural odor too much to be worth using.

[cryptidcommander]

*points to self while frantically pulling a curtain across the room to hide all the mess of evil thoughts 1 to 99 has left behind* Me? Evil? Mastermind? Surely you jest my friend. *sweating and points behind you* OH LOOK A ☁️! - Numbered Anon

>:(

Varellias wishes she could forget what it was like to die, both emotionally in HOT and literally in POF- between those two she has enough grief and trauma to last her lifetime.

As for something she has forgotten... she’s forgotten a fair amount of things actually. Nothing substantial or groundbreaking, but ever since she came back from the Departing she’d found herself forgetting little things: what she said to Tybalt when they both first met, whether Apathia died before Zott, the color of Sayeh al’ Rajihd wings. It’s nothing major, but enough to unnerve her.

[cryptidcommander]

Commander standing behind Bangar: *raises knife*. Bangar at seeing Rytlock shake his head: *turns around*. Commander hiding the knife and giving the most shit eating innocent look: ???. Bangar side eyeing the Commander but turning back around. Commander with a 'die scum!' look about them: *raises knife* - Oh this one sounds interesting, 📚, what would Var do if she was born with the knowledge about Mord? - Numbered Anon

Bavshsjabsvsj THATS COMEDY GOLD RIGHT THERE ANON

And hmmm, that’s a tough one! She’d probably confront the Pale Tree about it, but keep in mind she’d be a pretty impressionable sapling: She wouldn’t know enough to not trust in what the Pale Tree says to her about keeping quiet, especially if Caithe agrees as well.