#watchwoman

[marciorosa]

Se aprendemos alguma coisa nos últimos anos, é que o mundo é imprevisível. Leia as últimas notícias de como separar a propriedade da experiência está mudando o luxo.

https://bit.ly/4c2S1uk

[s-milesart]

The Night Watchwoman of The Abbey - Sister Vespera.

ooh, even some lighting and glasses tests!

[cultofthewyrm]

Silver Watchwoman by Hinchel Or

[chysgoda]

Matches

A traditional story

Set between 6.0 and 6.1

Art’imis tried to remember why she thought trying to find Hilda while she was on duty was a good idea. A snowflake landed on the tip of her nose and the warm weight of the bag on her shoulder reminded her. Hilda took the evening shift on Starlight Eve to give as many of her people time with their families as possible. The bag on her shoulder held fire crystals and a couple of sealed mugs of Haurchefant’s hot coco. She smiled briefly thinking of the knight and how he would have more than likely to have encouraged this little clandestine adventure, but insisted that he either carry the bag or her. 

The list of people who would scold her for walking this much in the cold while carrying anything was extremely long, but Art’imis was getting restless in her convalescing.  she’d fought battles on fresh injuries, a quick walk with a bag containing a pair of mugs was not going to kill her. Resolutely she ignored the imaginings of Y’shtola’s and Krille’s unimpressed looks, as well as X’rhun’s and Eddmont’s disappointed looks. She was going to be just fine.

The sound of boots crunching in fresh snow turned her head in time to see Hilda Ware turn a corner. The watchwoman cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at the smaller Raen woman. Art’imis abruptly realized that Aymeric and Edmont had probably spread the word that the Savior of Ishgard was NOT to be engaging in physically strenuous shenanigans. Honestly, it was like they expected her to fall apart. 

“So,” Hilda grinned as she sauntered up to the Raen woman. “I’ve got permission from the Lord Commander to drag you to the congregation’s cells by your horns if you‘re doing anything that might reopen any wounds.”

Art’imis scowled at Hilda which just made her grin broaden. She made sure to keep eye contact with the younger woman as she slid the bag off her shoulder and brought out one of the mugs to offer it to her. “After I went to all the effort to track you down for this?”

Hilda took the mug and removed the lid. When the smell of chocolate wafted up with the steam her eyes widened. “Is this Haurchefant’s recipe?” 

Art’imis smirked and lifted her hands in mock innocence. “Didn’t you know he gave me the recipe?”

Hilda moved to smack the back of  her friend’s head and Art dodged absently, only to hiss when the movement pulled on a set of stitches that were not ready to come out. The watch commander scowled and plucked the bag from Art’s loosening fingers. “Your daughter stays down when the healers tell her to ya know.”

Art scowled though she knew there was a petulant element to it. The hound smirked at her before taking a slow sip of the hot chocolate. They both stepped towards a building in the lee of the wind where Hilda leaned back against the wall and looked up to the clear sky. Art’imis followed suit the starry sky made her remember the image Urianger had painted for Y’shtola when night had returned to the Great Wood…

“It’ll be a killing night,” Hilda’s blunt tone drew Art’imis out of her memories. The watchwoman rolled the mug between her hands. Looking down into the creamy brown drink. “We’ll be finding bodies in the morning of the ones who had no place to get out of the cold.”

Art’imis pressed her lips together in a thin line remembering Ul’dah’s killing suns in high summer, a similar situation even if it was the opposite element. She took a breath but her jaw snapped shut when she heard something rustle in the alley right next to them. The paladin pushed off the wall and peered into the alley. The was the distinct scratch of a match head and a sharp pain accompanied the hiss of a new flame. Art’imis pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead but the vision already had her. 

A little hyur girl peaked into the cafe window. She had to peer through her reflection of cheeks that were rosy with chill rather than health. Beyond her reflection she saw a family sitting at a table near a giant fireplace that heated the entire cafe. A father had pulled his two children into a hug tilting their chairs dangerously close to over turning. On the other side of the table the mother covered her mouth with a napkin to hide her laughter-

The vision released her and Art’imis snapped a hand out to catch the corner of the building and steady herself. She blinked realizing she had not been swaying at all because Hilda had a hold of her other elbow. The watch woman motioned to the grip of her gun but Art’imis shook her head. She took careful steps into the alley. Not silent, she didn’t want to panic the child, her gut insisted that the little girl in the vision was who the memory belonged to. She caught sight of a pale hand scraping the head of another match along the brick wall. The flame burst into light with a high pitch pop and heralded another sharp pain behind her eyes. 

She’d found two whole apples and a few scraps of ham. The apples were going a bit soft and the ham was probably within a day of turning, but that didn’t matter because it would be a little feast tonight for her and Nana. She scrambled up, down, and around the debris that still littered most of the Brume.  There was a little hollow in a pile of debris just big enough for her and Nana to sleep curled up together. It kept them safe from snow and wind, Nana gave thanks to the Fury every night for the little bit of shelter that kept them dry. She came around to the entrance of her home. 

Nana wasn’t there. 

There was a thin elezan man who glared at her when she began to stammer. “Wh-Where is my Nana?” 

“The old bitch? Dead and the watch probably already took her to the butchers that call themselves doctors for practice.” The man kicked a foot out and caught her shoulder. Her feast scattered as she tumbled to the ground. The man grinned, “Leave the food or you’ll get another kick.” 

The little girl reached for one of the apples-

Art’imis felt Hilda steady her again as she blinked the vision out of her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked down into mousy brown hair and pale brown eyes. A small voice spoke before she could,“Are you Halone’s angels?”

“She might be,” Hilda jerked a thumb at Art’imis with a grin which only got bigger when she saw the side eye the Raen woman gave her, “I’m just another mongrel.” 

“Oh,” the child said dully. 

Art’imis crouched down so she could look the little girl in the eye. “Can I see your hands please?”

“If you’re one of Halone’s angels you won’t hurt me right?” The child pulled her hands close to her chest. 

Art’imis kept her smile soft even as her heart broke a little bit. She rested one of her hands above her heart. “I swear on the Fury’s grace I will not harm or allow harm to come to you.”

The girl’s eyes went round and slowly she offered her hands to Art’imis. Long years of maintaining her composure for the sake of others kept the Paladin from flinching. If they were lucky she might be able to use magic to keep the child from losing the tips of her fingers. A quick glance down showed that the child didn’t have shoes either. “I would like to use a healing spell but it will sting a bit. Is that okay?” 

The girl nodded looking back and forth between the two women in awe. With slow and steady movements Art’imis cupped the girl’s small hands between her own and blew out a breath as she focused. She tugged gently on the elements around her and wove them into a spell. Between Art’imis’s hands a pale blue light began to glow. She channeled just enough to make sure that the fingers and toes were safe. In the back of her mind she could hear E-Sumi-Yan explaining how healing magic could go awry if the underlying problem was not addressed first. 

“What’s your name?” Hilda asked to distract the girl from any pain from Art’imis’s spell. 

The girl swallowed hard and looked up at Hilda, “Felicity.”

“There’s a pretty name,” Hilda smiled. “Mine’s Hilda, and our angel friend here is Art’imis.”

The woman in question huffed when she let go of her spell. “That will do until we can get you properly warmed up, and I’m no more an angel than you or Hilda.” 

“My Nana said real angels won’t admit to being angels.” Felicity stated solemnly. 

Art’imis sighed, Hilda’s grin told her that she wasn’t going to get rid of this particular title anytime soon. “Well I don’t think you should be walking on those frozen feet. So I’ll carry-“

“No, I'll carry her.” Hilda said glaring at the other woman. “If you tear those stitches on my watch your man will singe my hair. I’ll take her to my place tonight and you are going home to the Fortemps where you’ve probably got a warm body to cuddle up against.”

Again, Art’imis knew her frown was petulant but there wasn’t much she could do when Hilda swooped down and picked the girl up. The Raen woman sighed and stood up doing her best to ignore how her knees ached. She began to pull her coat off but hissed when the movement pulled on her stitches. Art’imis scowled at nothing, it hadn’t hurt to get the damn thing on. Pointedly she ignored how Hilda was whispering to the girl that angels could be absolute fools and shucked off her gloves to pull them over Felicity's feet. “It looks silly, but those will at least keep your toes warm.”

The little girl waggled her feet and giggled when the empty fingers flapped. Both women smiled in relief, a bit of life meant that Felicity’s spirit had not been crushed by the street. Hilda readjusted her hold and looked at Art’imis, “my place is closest, I’ll take her home for the night and get her warmed up and fed.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow-“

“Afternoon.” Hilda interrupted firmly. “Go spend Starlight with your family Art. We’ll be just fine, it’s not my first time dealing with frostbite, it probably won’t be my last.”

Art’imis held up her hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, be careful with her right shoulder. She took a nasty kick there. And there’s a rumor we need to talk about later.”

Felicity’s eyes went wide with shock. Hilda nodded, “Echo?”

“Sometimes it’s good for something,” Art’imis shrugged, “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

Turning around the Raen woman waved as she began walking towards the aetheryte shard.  

“I think she just doesn’t know she’s one of Halone’s angels,” Felicity said decisively. Hilda laughed when she heard Art’imis’s aggrieved sigh. 

—-

Felicity sat on the floor near the iron stove. The warmth was almost painful after being so long without it. Hilda had draped a wool blanket over her and ordered her to stay put for a moment. Behind the grill of the pot belly stove the red light was a soft, constant, red glow rather than the flickering yellow of a fire. It was a simple puzzle that was easier to deal with than everything else that had happened that night. Actual angels had found her when she had been sure she would die huddled in that ally. They denied that they were angels, which Felicity felt was right and proper, but they acted like she thought angels should. 

Felicity looked up when she heard Hilda come back into the living room. “What can hurt an angel?”

“Most anything I’d figure,” Hilda set down a tray in front of her that had bowls of stew, a pile of rolls, and mugs with steaming drinks. The woman then sat down right next to Felicity and wrapped them both in another blanket. “You start with that mug of broth and a roll. Take it slow like and if that doesn’t upset your stomach then you can have the stew.”

Felicity reached for the mug slowly half expecting it to vanish and find the dream over when she woke up in that frozen ally. The heat of the mug stung but didn’t burn when she wrapped her hands around it. She took a small sip and her eyes went wide. Broth was salted water as far as she understood it. This tasted of chicken and savory vegetables. Felicity gulped her next drink only to splutter and cough when too much hot liquid hit her throat. She felt Hilda’s calloused hand rub gentle circles on her back until she could breathe. 

“I told you to take it slow.” The watchwoman’s amused tone made Felicity stare in bewilderment. She wanted to say it reminded her of her father, but in truth she couldn’t remember either of her parents that well. Felicity looked at the food that was more flavorful than any she’d had. She looked at the well kept iron stove and up into Hilda’s red eyes that held a bone deep understanding that Felicity had not expected in such a noble lady or an angel. Hilda gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed, lass. It’s been a lot for you.”

Felicity hiccuped as a whimpering sob broke out. She leaned into Hilda who plucked the mug from her hand before it could fall to the floor and then pulled the waif into her lap. Felicity pressed her face into Hilda’s shoulder and sobbed, unable to pull the emotion back in. She sobbed as bits of memory poured through her in bits and shards. Her grandmother’s wind worn lips on her forehead. The gold edged scales on a face that bore the small tell tale scars of a fighter but with compassion etched sharply in the small wrinkles around her eyes. The sharp pain as a man’s boot crushed into her shoulder to add another injury to finding out her grandmother was dead and missing. Soft and hard memories thundered through her until she was empty. When she stopped hiccuping and her breathing evened out, Hilda pressed the mug back into her hands. 

——

“Are you still planning on coming home for a bit tomorrow?” 

Lucia blinked at how her lady love started the link pearl call. “I will be on the supply ship that leaves tonight. Maxima, Jullus and the twins should be able to handle anything that comes up here.”

“Wonderful. I found a youngling I’d like you to meet before I get adoption papers.”

Lucia had years and training and decades of experience controlling her expressions. All of which failed her. “Come again?”

“Not right now, the kid’s on the couch.” 

Lucia pinched the bridge of her nose and ignored the concerned looks from Maxima and Alphinaud. “This is not how adoption works, Hilda.”

“It worked for Art.”

“Art’imis Chysgoda is a good role model for absolutely nothing and you know it.” 

“Felicity is an angel you’ll adore her. See you when you get home love.”

Lucia ignored the amused looks she was getting and very carefully placed her link pearl in her belt pouch. What in all seven hells she didn’t believe in had Hilda done while she was gone?

[shatteredbladeanthology]

Laying the Foundation - Pt. 2.1 The Restless Skies of Ædosmundal.

Ædos shares many features- in the archetypal tradition of high fantasy worlds- with the world we already know. There is no clearer evidence, no more constant a feature, and possibly no more forgotten a detail in the focus of a world at times than the skies under which this world goes about its existence. On this subject there is enough direct and derivative information to reasonably split into two whole posts, so we'll get a part 2.1 about the greater celestial bodies & a part 2.2 about the lesser celestial bodies and collective forms. The cycle of day and night are relatively similar in nature and length to Earth's day and night, with the sun being the emphatic source of light in the day and the setting's moon being the primary light source for those above ground at night. The presence of a moon is so mundane to us, but, considering other heavenly bodies in our star system, it is wild to consider Luna's size relative to Earth's, and how that interacts with our world. Such implications are not forgotten with the key difference in the skies over Ædos: the presence of not one, but three moons, Lunis, Maris, and Marresia (pronounced Mare-es-ayuh.) I refer to them collectively with feminine pronouns in this post as their representative spirits that players in this setting may interact with on occasion are at least feminine presenting.

"How do the skies of the this world look different from the skies we know?" is our prompt this week. The starkest of differences is the best way for us to begin answering that question, but with such a gap to bridge, it may be easier to begin with a simple and familiar point of reference. I will spare us the deeper delve into the lore and history of why the moons have their particular orbits in this post, but expect one about the deeper lore and history behind the celestial bodies in the Aedosian sky at some point.

It suffices to say that Lunis, the closest moon to the Aedosian sphere, is almost 1:1 in comparisons of its apparent size, orbit path, and even rotational speed to our own moon. Lunis is tidally locked to have one side ever facing the Ædosian terrain below. It felt natural to have such a familiar staple of the terran sky make a cameo.

Next, Maris, the second sister of this 3-dancer lunar ballet, is roughly 2/3rds to 3/4 the size of our own moon, and takes roughly twice as long to orbit the Ædosian sphere. Unlike its sister moons, Maris is not tidally locked. This faster rotation gives viewers from the ground a range of appearances that have over the ages inspired folk tales of great monsters, landmarks, and even some heroes being painted onto one of the 3 great faces of the heavens. Lastly, Marresia, at no more than 1/4th of Luna's size is arguably the most unique of the 3 moons, as her orbit path varies in distance from the imaginary equatorial divide in the sky. The peaks and troughs of this wavelike pattern of orbit cause some regions to be unable to see the 3rd moon during certain times of the year. The "Shy Sister" is often seen and personified as the watchwoman of the night sky by some cultures and religions, due to the regular fluctuation of her position. Each of these moons complete their orbits in multiples of 30 days: Lunis in 30; Maris in 60; Marresia in 120. With their number and cyclical nature, their patterns have become the basis for timekeeping systems in Ædos, specifically the setting's primary calendar, developed by the humans, giants, and dwarves that called the ancient isle once named Tyrunheim their home. The Tyrean Calendar uses the Marresian cycle to measure seasons, as the moon's orbit was a better predictor of changes in seasons that the sometimes stagnant sub-sub-arctic climes that the Tyrean peoples were used to. The Luniri cycle became a good measure for meteorological shifts within each season, leaving the Marishi cycle to best mark the true equinoxes and solstices of those seasons. The moons' greater numbers also means that eclipses of the Ædosian Sun are much more frequent in comparison to the celestial events of our own world. Singular partial solar eclipses are a regular enough occurrence that astronomers and star sages of various mortal cultures have ascribed these singular eclipses little significance. When two or more moons would eclipse the sun is when things would get truly interesting, in astronomical respects and otherwise. Dual eclipses of the sun are rare simply due to the potential positions of the moons needing to be precise to a fault in order for them to occur. That these dual eclipses happen at all is such a statistical improbability that Ædosian scholars have long posited that the orbit paths are orchestrated by a member of the pantheon. In a world where gods interact with mortal-kind, even as sparingly as the Theokosian Pantheon does, it should be no shock that there is a grain of truth to this theory. The most common Dual eclipse conjunction is of Lunis and Marresia, by no small margin, though there have been a few recorded instances of Marishi-Marresian and Luniri-Marishi conjunctive eclipses.

These eclipses almost always have some manner of effect on the magical landscape of Ædos, though, despite their semi-mundane nature. These conjunctions of heavenly bodies supposedly carry down collected astral energies to refresh the network of invisible and mostly intangible ley lines that cross the surface world. The number of conjoined celestial bodies indicate the strength of this transfer of energy. Regular solar eclipses mean that over some parts of the world, magical energies are regularly entering the ley lines. The powers that harness these energies regularly do not have to worry about shortages of magical power by any stretch of the mind. Truly the problems with this near continual renewal comes when conjoined dual and triple eclipses occur. These triad eclipses are so rare and so powerful in their transfer that they have become a feared marker of difficult times ahead because of the obscene overabundance of magical energy available to practically any party with any degree of attunement with this spiderweb of magical tunnels that blanket Ædos. This includes the elemental and fey spirits that inhabit the Ædosian material plane, the devils and demons that scheme and war amongst themselves in the negative planes, even the celestials that would do their utmost to regulate and ordain the world are capable of great acts of creation and destruction in the immediate aftermath of a Triad Eclipse's Leysurge event. Though with that last subject in particular, I threaten to touch upon key events in this world's history, and that is best left for a post of it's own as well. Stay tuned for next week's post where we will cover the stars and constellations of the Ædosian night skies and examine their impacts.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Shoot The Messenger.

It was during one of my brief visits home that Khive asked to come with me. I've seen her fight before, know her talent for archery well. It's something i've always looked upon with admiration; rare it is when i find another who enjoys it as i do.

Various crystals spill out overhead, painting the sky in a vibrant orange within the canopy of the Burning Wall. Taking a few steps forth, Bexy admires the view for a moment longer. "…There was no time specifically she said they would be here. Only that they would. I've seen no signs of people passing through in the last few suns…" She trails as she walks, keeping her voice lower than she often did.

Wide-eyed, Khive stares at the crystals in quiet amazement. Her ears flicker as Bexy speaks and regains her attention, head dipping into a small nod. ".. I hope she is what she says she is." Already soft-spoken, she hardly had to lower her volume - even if she did, just in case.

"…So too do i. I have no reason not to trust her… But it is so rare i am blessed with this kind of luck. But suppose… I am beneath my Goddess' watchful eyes." No sooner had she finished the sentence did she hear someone call out ahead, stealing her attention and beckoning to creep closer, hidden by the brush.

It was as though Azeyma herself had heard me. I could hear them, speaking beneath us. Talking amongst themselves. I wonder what draws them here... But it matters not. Prey for the hunting.

Khive quietly stalked after Bexy, remaining near her while peering over the edge of the cliff.

A Midlander with a spear seems to be giving some kind of order to another who wielded some kind of pickaxe; a sword and shield strapped firmly to his hip. Dotted around are various Miqo'te, an archer spies ahead; thankfully in the opposite direction, while a gladiator and a healer chatted idly between themselves at the entrance to the path…

"---It's as she said. They're here…" Bexy's voice descends into some darkened tone, a rush of cold quickly frosting the area around her as ice gathered to her gloves. "…It has to be. I cannot see their faces well enough for the mark, and fear being spotted by the archer if i approach." Lofting a brow, Bexy slowly glances to Khive…

A small shiver ran through Khive at the increased cold as she lowered herself into a crouch - creeping slightly closer to the ledge to scan the faces of those nearest to them. Thankfully, with her mixed descent, she doesn't struggle much to make out the red marks upon their faces in the dark which shrouded them. ".. I see it." Leaves her as a quiet whisper of confirmation.

It was all i needed to strike. Khive saw the marks even in this gloom... I already knew who i would kill first. The archer looked to be a Keeper. Deprive them of a watchwoman. Of their range. Of their ability to see in the dark.

"…Then we waste no time. I won't ask you to kill them, Khive." Her words sound as though she's speaking of an errand rather than a murder. "I wager they might run as soon as they see my arrow. Where exactly, there is no telling. But if you could prevent them from doing so, it would be appreciated…" An arrow is formed in her fingertips, long and slender and ready to find a mark…

Khive gave a nod of confirmation to Bexy's words as she scrambled herself backwards before standing back up once confident she was out of view for the archer. She grips her bow and spins it around as she pulls it from her body, reaching a hand for an arrow and moving to slowly nock it. ".. On your mark."

"Khive." Bexy says once again. "…Do not let them see you. Not for anything. If one of them escapes, it could draw them to you too." That said, she finds her target; depriving them of a watchwoman and ranged support with a single arrow, she finds her mark in the side of the Keeper's head.

...I couldn't afford them to see Khive. If one got away, they would surely tell all of the situation. They are already hunting me. But that was... Something of an inevitability. Endangering myself is one thing. Endangering another...? Not a chance.

The Keeper drops instantly; she'd barely heard the whistle of the arrow before it hits her in the side of the head; a quick death, dropping down dead only a moment later. "Girha…?" One of the Seekers manages, before beckoning over the other, astroglobe in tow. "Hey, Girha! Did you fall over or--- Wh--" His words cut out, as the long shaft of ice sticks from her head. "ARNKEL! SHE'S HERE!"

Arnkel spins on his heels at the callout, eyes wide as fear undoubtedly reached him. "Wilmaer, arm yourself!" He commands, with obvious desperation in his tone as he reached for his own spear. "Fuck.. FUCK!"

“.. Understood.” Khive responded, as she drew her arrow back and aimed for the ground between the remaining Miqo’te. A small crackle of lightning danced from her hand and along the arrow’s shaft, circling the arrowhead before she released it. The impact makes lightning crackle outwards for both Seekers below, zapping around their legs and feet.

"…Three hundred and twenty-nine." Bexy utters, before opting to move. "Khive, stay in the brush, move only when you won't be seen." Her voice is a sharp whisper before she rounds the ridge, pulling into view; another arrow formed and loosed towards the Miqo'te.

Wilmaer spares no time in doing as he's asked. The pick is tossed aside, sword and shield ready. "Where? Where is she?" He seemed almost desperate to find her, an angry grit to his tone. "I'll take her bastard head for what she did to him!" Bexy's arrow flies and strikes the shield of the Seeker, who managed to deflect it. Still, lightning courses suddenly though her body, unnoticing the arrow it had came from. "---She can use lightning, too?! We didn't hear about this! Arnkel!"

"I haven't heard about any bloody lightning!" Arnkel yells out, gesturing for Wilmaer to come with him as he begins to run towards the others. "KILL HER!"

Khive directs her attention to the duo further in the back, a deep breath fillings her lungs as she draws a new arrow. Similarly to the one before, lightning surrounds the arrowhead before she releases it, aiming it at the ground before them to have them run directly into the surge of lightning that cracks across the ground upon impact.

"You can try!" Bexy bellows back, launching another arrow; this one to the Seeker with the astroglobe, piercing his shoulder as he swiftly turned not to take it in the chest. "You can all try! What's four more of you in the countless others i've killed, hm? You know what you've done. You know what i want!" She readies another arrow, immediately.

There would be no mercy for these people. Information almost became a secondary, as killing these simply became a demonstration. I was making a point. ...Vex's words held truth after all. I wonder how well she knows these people?

The healer cries out as he's struck, taking a moment to turn, though the lightning makes him jerk unevenly as he attempts to pull it out and seal the wound. Wilmaer runs headlong into the lightning with a shriek; it sears him through his armor, but some stubborn force drags him through. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you for what you did to Heimir!" He screams, though he cannot yet get closer to her. "Hiding up there! What, can't come down and give us a proper fight?" The other Seeker woman with the sword and shield batters her armaments together, drawing Bexy's attention. "S'jinh, patch youself up! We can take her!"

Arnkel yelled out in pain as he ran directly into the lightning, forcing himself through it but pausing before he reached the second one, his gaze scanning for a safer route around it - and the general cause of it, struggling with it in the dark.

Khive nocks another arrow and takes aim for the female Seeker, ears pinning back a touch. With no intention to shoot to kill unless she absolutely has to, her aim is notably lower. The plain arrow surges forwards, aiming to burrow into the Seeker's calf in an attempt to give Bexy an opening.

Bexy's lips quirk into a smirk. Khive's arrow buries itself into the Seeker's calf, and it's then at Bexy opts to strike; with the healed otherwise distracted and the other two not yet in arms reach. Bexy skids down the face of the rock, bolstered by her ice, as the arrow she'd previously formed shifts into a dagger, and is plunged into the neck of the Seeker woman, slamming her into the ground as Bexy took her landing. "No. I won't. I'm not stupid enough when there's so many of you." Her words are wicked, as she surges her ice to freeze the blade into her neck, unable to remove it. "But now that it's three against one…" She raises to her full height, brow raised as she draws another arrow, gaze settled on Arnkel. "And one of you doesn't count."

This bastard. I remember him, and i remember the expression on Sayuri's face as he dared to draw close to us. My response will be the same to him as it ever was. Get fucked, Arnkel.

The Seeker scrabbles for the blade in her throat, unable to dislodge it, a spurt of blood spilling out in a messy pulse against the ice. Her hands slip from her effort, and she eventually succumbs. "T'zikra!" S'jinh calls out, now having healed his own wound, he's unable to save her life. "Arnkel…!" He manages, unease clear in his tone. Wilmaer however doesn't back off an ilm, and instead makes an attempt at charging Bexy, sword and shield outstretched!

"-- Get back, S'jinh! Wilmaer, fucking kill her!" Arnkel barked his orders, distress notably lacing his own tone - certainly not inspiring any confidence in his fellows. "It doesn't matter what you do, Seeker! You won't get her back! She is right where she bloody belongs!"

Khive frowned softly at the yell as she nocks a new arrow, aiming it for Wilmaer, this time. It promptly leaves her and and soars for his thigh, seeking to pierce it in order to slow him down, if not down him.

"Three hundred and thirty!" Bexy roars as though it's some kind of achievement, moving to meet Wilmaer; as an arrow sinks into his calf and causes him to cry out. He closes the gap and swings for her with a stagger, where his weapon is caught by Bexy's hand, biting into her fingers, the deafening crackle of ice no longer allowing him to relinquish it. "I'll take her back, -Arnkel-." Bexy speaks, staring to Wilmaer even as she addressed him. "How many of you do you suppose Grym will throw at me, hm? I have killed almost ten of you in a sennight. And i wager Sayuri isn't sitting quietly. If we carry on at the pace we are… There'll be nothing left of you in a handful of moons!"

I've decided now, when my thoughts are the clearest and unmuddled by the liberty of time to think, that i will trust Vex. At least, i'll give her a chance to do what she said. Why not? Even if it's a ploy to draw me into a trap, i'll kill my way out of it. And if it is, i'll just keep killing until i have Sayuri back where she belongs. In my company, in a place of her choosing!

Wilmaer screams as his hand is fused to his weapon, but instead swings his shield to connect with Bexy's head. "You killed him, you bitch! You killed him! What is he, just another fucking number to you?" He roars, in equal parts pain and fury. S'jinh slowly begins to back away, slowly funneling a steady flow of aether towards Wilmaer, uncomfortable with him so close to Bexy's grasp.

"He'd sooner kill her than let her slip through his grasp!" Arnkel yelled back, sounding.. a touch too confident in his words for it to be a lie. He, also, begins to back away - having absolutely not intentions to run at Bexy himself after the display. ".. Fuuuck.." He then turns.. and runs.

Khive nocks an arrow and aims for Arnkel, letting him get a few steps away before she releases her arrow, which rapidly seeks its mark upon his calf and forces him into a tumble.

"And you'd sooner kill me than have me hunt you, but here we are!" Half a laugh is interrupted as the shield meets her head, and Bexy opts to break her bow into daggers and pierce it into the joint of Wilmaer's shoulder, not daring to leave his sword unhindered, bloodied hand still clutching onto it. She watches as Arnkel begins to run, and a small huff of pride as he's swiftly taken down by another arrow not of her making. Her attention turns to Wilmaer. "I've killed so many of you. Tell me. Which one was he?"

"His name was Heimir!" Wilmaer doesn't give her the satisfaction of a scream, locking eyes with her. His shield arm is numb, and the awful keening of ice is only ilms from his head. "And he was my best friend, gods damn you! And you took him from me!" He sharply raises a knee to Bexy's gut, attempting to find a mark. S'jinh, realising there's little he can do if she chooses to kill him, begins to back away. "…Arnkel… Wh-what do we do? Arnkel?" His head turns at the sound of footsteps, and a fall. "Arnkel!" Partially offended he'd tried to run, and torn between his duty as a healer, he runs over to the fallen Hyur with a frown. "You tried to run away and leave me with her?!"

...Heimir. I remember that name. At the fence house. It was the name the Elezen shouted right before i grabbed his head and smashed it against a wall. Here for your petty vengeance, are we? You should have thought about that before you took her from me!

Arnkel shifts and tries to stand, only for the sharp pain to shoot through his calf. A hand pats along his leg to search for the cause - fingers locking around the arrow buried in it. His head turns to stare at it, noting that.. it is not ice. "… She's… not alone..?" He questions quietly, before his gaze lifts to scan the dark. "-- SHE'S NOT ALONE!" He then stares at S'jinh. "Heal me, we'll fucking run!"

Khive shrinks down at her position a little further once Arnkel calls out, stilling an anxious crackle that made itself known. She nocks a new arrow and aims for the duo, yet doesn't shoot.. not yet.

"You should have thought about that before you took -her- from -me-." Bexy's words were half a snarl to Wilmaer, registering the name Wilmaer had spoken. "…In the fence house. I remember." As a reply to his word, her ice crawls up his hand with a crackle, along his neck, beginning to take over his head and face. "Then, i'll grant you the same fate."

Wilmaer's next breath is a scream, muffled as the ice smothers his lips and only the sound of loud crackling is heard. S'jinh, however, follows Arnkel's orders with a newfound desperation. "N-not alone?" He gasps, pouring aether into the wound. "I… I didn't see anyone!" Healing done, he tries his best to help the man to his feet.

Arnkel yanks the arrow out of his leg, holding it forth. "She doesn't use these! Hers are made from her ice!" He stares over to Wilmaer as he screams. "-- Shit-- Hurry!" An arm coils around S'jinh as he begins to stand with his aid.

Khive then shifts her aim, settling her focus on S'jinh mid-stand. Her arrow releases and soars for his leg, again seeking to pierce a calf in hopes to down both of them in one go.

Bexy allows the ice to overtake the man in her grasp, before slamming him on the ground where his head shatters, moving forth towards the remaining two. "Three hundred and thirty…One." She speaks slowly, bow and arrows again forming, as she shoots to strike at S'jinh's back.

I'll kill them. I'll kill the lot of them. I'll show them not an onze of mercy!

The arrow finds his mark; unable to walk from Khive's arrow, and unable to move so much from Bexy's, he writhes on the ground. "GAH! HELP ME! ARNKEL, HELP!"

Arnkel simply stares for a moment, before he begins to scramble himself backwards, forcing himself up on his feet to limp-run away. He will be -no- help to S'jinh.

Khive offers a deep frown at Arnkel's flight from the pleading S'jinh, nocking an arrow swiftly to take aim of him as she stands more upright from her position. Lightning crackles along the arrow before she releases it, surging through the air to pierce Arnkel's leg anew - and electrocute him to force him to remain down for a touch longer.

Bexy shoots S'jinh again; he would not get up a second time. She well intended her target to leave for last, pacing by the Seeker as he wheezed. Her eyes find his, remorseless.

"…Tell Vex. T-Tell her i'm… S-sorry…" A tearful S'jinh manages, as life begins to leave him. Bexy presses on, with a quiet "Three Hundred and Thirty-two" on her lips.

...I don't have time for these whispered apologies. You made your choice. Vex knew who was coming here. She knew you'd die here. But i'll tell her, if it's the exchange i have for taking your life.

Arnkel fell to the ground with a scream as lightning coursed through his body, leaving him winded even when the effect had worn off. He scrambles on the ground, feebly attempting to get up only to collapse anew.

Khive lowers her bow, and merely waits.

And now the rest of them are dead, it's time to get down to business. Death was a mercy. Quick and sudden. They made their choices, and they would die for them. It was a simple thing, in the end. Not the killing. But the decision to. If it wasn't them, it would be me. But Arnkel will have no such thing as a kind fate. Twice he's faced me and fallen. I don't think he could threaten me if he tried. Killing him would leave a message. But i wanted it delivered back to them, loud and clear!

Bexy allows her bow to dissolve, and storms after the man. When he hits the ground to collapse once again does she seek her chance, planting a boot into his back between the shoulders and pinning him down. "Going somewhere, are we, Arnkel?" Her words were full of malice and ill intent, as she kneels down and grabs a fistful of hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck, a blade of ice resting at the now-tight skin against his undoubtedly racing pulse.

Arnkel swiftly met the ground as Bexy's boot landed upon him, making him squirm and try to turn to reach her leg - only to immediately freeze as his head was yanked up and the dagger was placed against him. "--I-if you kill me, s-she -will- suffer for it!" He cries out in some desperate attempt to save his own skin.

"She'll suffer anyway! Give me a reason i shouldn't split you like an overripe peach, for we all know you don't have the stones of one!"

"--I-it'll be worse if you do! H-he'll listen to my s-sister!"

"He'll listen to anyone that tells him that Sayuri will remain in his grasp. But we both know that's a lie, don't we?" The blade travels up his neck, drawing a line in his cheek. "You drew my ire once. Don't you learn?"

Arnkel gave a startled yell as the dagger cut his cheek. "S-she came to u-us! She h-had an option n-not to!"

"You took her beloved. Not much of an option, Arnkel." The point is pressed hard into his cheekbone, as his name is growled. "You took him, and she came for him. And you took her… And i'm coming for her. What will you do next, hm? Take me? You think you have anyone out there who is strong enough to take me too? What will you do? Have them thrown at me? Tell me, Arnkel. How difficult was it to get people to accompany you on this little endeavor? Are they hiding in the compound? Frightened of me?" She pauses, offering the faintest of chuckles. "They should be."

Arnkel's eyes shut tightly the further the blade pressed against him, resisting the urge to squirm. "..N-no, Grym-- he-- he wants you g-gone.." He doesn't respond to Bexy's question, gritting his teeth in obvious fear. "..-I- h-haven't touched her- not o-one bit!"

Grym wants me gone. He wishes to ignore me, like some petulant little insect. I will NOT be ignored! I will make it IMPOSSIBLE to ignore me! Alright, Grym. Ignore this!

"But i'm not going… No." Bexy leans upwards, considering. Her knive draws a thin red line over the side of his head, along the back of his ear, where it pulls free, and she audiably murmurs in thought. "Grym would kill her before she was set free. You are certain of this?"

He groans in pain as blood trickles down his head. "..H-he would.. He-.. he d-doesn't want to l-lose her a-again.."

Khive turns her gaze away, frowning weakly - unwilling to watch what was going on down below.

"And that's where you're wrong. He'd try to kill her. He'd try his very best. But only after innumerable people had fallen at my hands or hers. Would you be one of them? Your sister, perhaps…?" The point of her knife is pressed deep enough to pierce through his clothes, and into the skin below.

"..L-last.. resort--.." Arnkel squirmed weakly, gritting his teeth further as the knife continued to slice his skin. "..S-she won't b-be..! T-too-.. too s-smart.."

"Perhaps. But how long until he realises? Realises that i am coming for her and no one can stop me?" The knife digs in and begins to carve a curved line that cuts over his shoulderblades. "I am coming for her. No one can stop me. Are you listening?"

I wanted him to listen. To hear every word that left my lips. I would settle for nothing less.

Arnkel screamed in pain, writing beneath the blade and more than likely worsening the carve with his own actions. "H-he knows y-you're l-looking! She-- she knows! She's b-been laughing for s-suns, s-since the r-report!"

With impatience, Bexy slams her blade into Arnkel's bicep, forming another as she continued on. "Stop squirming. You're ruining it." She hisses, drawing the remains of a circle. "I'm not asking what she knows. Of course she does. I'm her sister. She knows i'd never leave her. I'm asking -you-. You are listening, yes?" She leans in a little closer. "I am coming for her. I won't stop until i have her. I'll kill anyone who gets in my way. All of you, if i have to."

Arnkel yells out in agony as the blade stabs into his arm, resisting the urge to squirm any further. "--Y-yes!" He exhales in a breath of pain.

Khive slowly peeks over to Bexy and Arnkel, only to lower her head and cringe uncomfortably at the sight before turning away once more.

"Then. Repeat. It. What did i say? Repeat it. Mem-or-ize it." She completes the circle… And starts again, just beneth it, with a line.

"Y-you.. are c-coming for her.. a-and won't-- s-stop u-- until.. you have h-her.." He repeats, sucking in a deep breath to battle the pain. "--K-kill.. a-anyone..-- e-everyone.." Nausea wrecks him as more and more pain shoots through him, making his sentences less.. intelligible.

"Good!" She finishes the line, leaving a crudely carved symbol of Azeyma etched into Arnkel's back. "Good. I want those to be your first words to Grym when you get back, if you live that long. If you die, that's your own inadequacy. Every chill on your skin, every dip in temperature, i want you to be reminded of me. The others here? They were given a mercy, Arnkel. There's fates worse than death."

Leaving him alive isn't a threat. There's only so much skin a person has, and i don't think he has the consitution nor space to stay alive for all the things i'd write on him. So i'd leave him as a message. I'd leave it burbling on his lips for those who would inevitably find him, and deliver him back to Grym's front door. And if this sorry sack of shit passed away before then, the mark on his back would say enough to those who knew it.

Arnkel mumbled incoherently, a groan of pain leaving him. The faintest hints of tears coat the area just below his eyes.

"I trust you'll tell them. And if you don't i'll know." Bexy levels her gaze on him a little longer, opting to dissolve the dagger and rise to her feet. "Khive? It's time to go."

Arnkel's head drops to the ground as he's freed from the torture, not completely aware but he's certainly -listening-.

Khive backs away from her ledge, casting a final look Arnkel's way before she steps back from the bushes, running an arm through them for a rustling sound to emit as confirmation.

Her arrows struck true. Each and every one finding it's mark, in legs, in thighs. No doubt i would be chasing them still if they had been allowed to flee. And more importantly, she had stayed well out of sight.

Bexy offers a warm smile, despite the blood and all that had happened beneath. "…You did well, Khive. That could have been a whole lot messier had you shot any less straight." A small tilt of her head, almost cheerful. "…Shall we go home?"

Khive gave a weak smile in return, even if her ears remain flat on her head. "I.. specialized in incapacitation, in my old company.." She mumbles, before nodding. ".. Let's."

[jerek]

the years now before us

On another quiet morning, the Black Prince and his champion ponder his legacy.

He should have set out for Neltharus by now. Really, there was no reason he should be the one to check on the eggs. He was no eggtender, nor was he a red dragon, obsessed with tending the flame of life. He’d lived most of his life content as an endling.

Yet… he wasn’t truly there to see the eggs. That was only what he’d told the Shrineguard. He came to watch the watchwoman… his champion, who he could see in his periphery, and could overhear conversing with Mother Elion.

“It sounds as though you were more hostage than apprentice,” the eggtender said. And, quite matter-of-factly, “They distrusted you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. They might have thought I hated him… it’s funny to think about now.”

By the way they kneeled, he wondered if they weren’t peering into the eggs themselves. He knew his own shell had been rendered somewhat sheer by the burning-away of his corruption– though he’d never seen so well out of it as others seemed to see inward.

“The eggs will grow even before the whelps inside hatch. Some double their size. A few triple.”

“And they’re all conscious?”

Mother Elion gave a draconic laugh– more of a thrum than anything, but Midha seemed to recognize it. The eggtender responded: “Of course. If you keep visiting, they’ll hatch knowing your voice.”

“I should’ve said something to his egg, then.”

Wrathion stepped back and leaned against a tree. He was turned away now, with his eyes closed, listening in.

But Midha and the eggtender had stopped speaking. All he was left with were his own thoughts… and what could he say about this, if only to himself?

He searched the earliest, dimmest memories he could conjure. They’d been sharper then, but now came only on their own time– when he forced them, he could scarcely remember anything. The indigo light of the Redoubt was still there… as was the shadow of Corastrasza… then of Mostrasz.

He smiled.

There had been indigo periods– then times where the only light he could see came from within the cavern where they’d built his nest, interrupted by brief instances where he couldn’t see at all.

Commotion, here and there. The heavy scuff of dragon-claws, and rain-light taps he assumed came from someone in their guise.

The first time he had ever been startled, past the terror of his creation… only startled, nothing more, was when a thud against the cavern wall rattled his shell. It ripped him out of his slumber, into a waking world just a shade too cold. He had pressed into the warm side of his egg, and assumed no one would notice he’d woken up.

His eyes opened. The presence of his champion had moved in front of him– she was there, silhouetted, standing between him and the sun.

And she wouldn’t speak. No matter. “Champion,” he greeted. “Have you picked a favorite?”

“You mean from the eggs?” The ice holding her smile captive started to crack… though be it from humor or from nerves, he couldn’t tell. “It’s the first time I’ve had so many options.”

He chuckled. Then, he commented: “I assume most were sired by Sabellian. If not all of them. Some would call that an advantage.”

Midha glanced back over her shoulder. “I don’t think they’ll cast their votes any time soon.”

Of course not. These whelps would grow in safety, already knowing who would care for them– and why they were cared for. Certain knowledge would evade them, for a time, and that would be a blessing.

“If I am ever to father a line of my own,” he proclaimed, a stage-power in his tone, a parody of those grand speeches atop Mason’s Folly: “Surely they will take after me, and each become prodigies in their own right!”

“When will that be?”

“Should the Titans’ alterations permit…”

He trailed off. He’d planned to say something absurd, ‘as soon as my dear brother’s back is turned,’ but to consider it was to invite in reality.

Instead, he amended his previous statement. “Well. I do not think what Sabellian has done for our population negates what I have done for our planet.”

“Tell them I’m your legacy,” she said, and then shrugged when he fixed his eyes on her. “Maybe.”

He was sure his champion was half-dwarven. A dwarf could quite easily live to see their two-hundredth year… and should she be half as fortunate, to live ten years after he came of age…

“Were you only a Blacktalon,” Wrathion pondered. “Were you only a dragon yourself.”

[akhuna01]

'Guardian' by Alanis Morissette always gets me so emotional. What a banger, what a message. It really hits different when you're chronically ill, disabled or otherwise went through hell.

'Now no more smiling mid-crestfall

No more managing the unmanageable

No more holding still in a hailstorm

Now enter your watchwoman

I'll be your keeper for life

As a guardian

I'll be your warrior of care

Your first warden

I'll be your angel on call

I'll be on demand

The greatest honour of all

As your guardian'

[does-truth-matter]

TRUCKERS IN PARTS OF NORTH CAROLINA, OKLAHOMA, AND TENNESSEE ARE NOW REPORTING NO DIESEL Watchwoman 65 11/5/22 https://youtu.be/9zzo2DWyZek https://www.instagram.com/p/CkojuA6u0kX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[madolluniverse]

"Contemplative Beauty"

Tags: #blackandwhiteportrait, #strikingfeatures, #prominenteyes, #darkliner, #flowinghair, #ringjewelry, #watchwoman, #braceletedwrist, #contemplativeexpression, #sereneatmosphere, #portraitphotography, #monochromeaesthetic, #fashioninspo, #beautyshots, #artisticportraits, #twitterfeed, #photooftheday, #moodboard, #bwphotography

[thehaemanthus]

August Reading

This month felt like a lifetime. Got a lot of reading done, though.

Mackenzie Green Series, JS Kennedy

Meh series. I almost put it down in the first chapter, but I was bored and Kindle had been shoving it in my face forever so. Sigh. Interesting premise with a magic-girl who is part of a mercenary guild, the little siblings she adopted, a dark past, and a love interest that starts off as an adversary. Unfortunately, I hated the writing. The main character isn't awful, but I was annoyed very quickly. I went through the series because I was curious and it was easy, but actually can't recommend it that much. Interesting world, liked the found family, but the characters are flat and the plot (especially in the last book) wasn't great. It was very YA. There WAS something in the latest book that made me go "oh, you went there?" but the consequences weren't explored. It's like if a character got stabbed in battle and someone slapped a bandage on and it was never mentioned again. It's possible that it will get picked up in the next book, but I'm not holding my breath.

Anyway. Read three books, wasn't impressed, won't continue the series.

The Grey Gates Series, Vanessa Nelson

This kickstarted my devouring of Nelson's books. There are some big themes in Nelson's writing-- main characters who go through some serious physical/mental trauma that affects their lives significantly, love interests that are more than the "I'm a snarky confident hot guy", and good mysteries. Unfortunately, she also tends to kind of have flat endings to the series? It's not bad, it's just a habit of leaving me a tiny bit unsatisfied.

In this series, our main character saved the world years ago, was more or less punished for it, and now tries to live her life and defend her city from magical monsters. I found the post-apocalyptic urban fantasy unique and thought the writing was pretty solid. I'm incredibly curious about what happened to her and what's going on in the world now.

Zoomed through three books, the fourth is coming out soon

Ageless Mysteries, Vanessa Nelson

Also zoomed through these books. Thea, our main character, lives in a fantasy world and an empire ruled by the tyrannical Ageless (they are more or less Angels, just go with that). She is a Watchwoman, basically a policewoman, and in every book there's a mysterious murder (or more than one) to solve as she tries to keep her head down and avoid attention. Nelson doesn't pull her punches with the childhood trauma, though I thought there was opportunity to dig into the angst a bit more. I really love how this is a "strong female character" who doesn't punch through walls and snark and walk through the world with extreme confidence. Thea wants to be very ordinary and very average and toe the line, though she has a strong moral code.

I LOVED the love interest, and HATED the slow slow slow burn and the lack of romance. Niath is just cute, okay, he's a super powerful mage but he can be kind of shy and he has a lot of curiosity and-- idk. It's just so different from the mold of what I've come to expect from a love interest, and I didn't even realize it. Wish we had more romance in this series.

Also wish some loose threads had been tied up. If there's one thing I can say about this series, it's that the pacing felt weird? The last book solved a lot of things very quickly and still left me unsatisfied. Some questions were sort of dropped. There were things I was interested in that Nelson didn't explore more. Still a solid series though.

The Hundred, Vanessa Nelson

Last of Nelson's series that I read. I have my own trauma from reading "The Hundred" (jroth you ass). Anywho. The series follows Yvonne, one of the Hundred, a Hunar who is assisted by magic and whose purpose is to simply help others. Lots of solving mysteries about the past, fighting against a big bad, and a huge cast of characters that honestly? Got too large for me. Might be the weakest of the series. Nelson tended to repeat phrases in an annoying way, narrate too much of what the characters were doing, and repeat details. It was still interesting and took a lot of imagination though! Cool world!

Yvonne is joined by her children (hELLO Nelson's penchant for extreme trauma, and HI my desire for it to be explore a tiny bit more por favor), the wealthy goblin Guise (love interest, Goblins are at the top of the food chain in this world, he's sneaky, it's delightful), her fellow Hunar, and more.

I zoned out quite a bit while reading. Not my favorite Nelson series but it was fine.

Resistance, Interstellar Union Series, Etta Pierce

I've written about this series before. This book wasn't my favorite-- I liked the characters, especially since they've featured in the other books and I was already interested. But I thought the plot was weak, unfortunately. For some reason, I'm just not that invested in the central conflict of the story anymore. Idk why.

Good romance, meh plot, great world building, and good characters. I think my favorite book in the series was the third or maybe the fourth. But I haven't reread them, so my thoughts could change.

[s-milesart]

Sister Vespera | Night Watchwoman of The Abbey.

"Trust Sister, it's all about holding on to what you are, even at the end of everything."

A woman of unknown descent, her past is... Muddy, to say the least.

Found self-bandaged and beaten at the mouth of a suspected Coven, claws chipped and cracked, arms soaked to the shoulder in viscera and bile; Sister Kyvera sensed a kindred spirit. A woman alone with her curse. A woman in need of support no-one could give them then.

Suffering from a previously unseen phase of the transformation into a Witch of The Night [a horrid, vampiric beast.], She struggles to keep her sense of self as more and more symptoms take over.

She's not a vampire. (goddess above she hopes she's not a vampire.)

[notes to myself below - this bitch LONG]

notes or somethin

polarized lenses kinda exist in the world but her glasses are specially milled from a quartz-like growth that forms in the Witch's Covens. Keeps that night sight manageable!

She can see you. No matter where you hide. She's drawn to accelerated heartbeats and rising blood pressure.

Those who are scared, she prefers to hunt. A voice in the back of her head tells her they taste better scared. She's learned to ignore that voice.

Goddess, she's dangerous. Probably the most dangerous one in the whole Abbey. Actually. hits like a fuckin warhammer, is faster than a warbow.

Abnormally stealthy. Knows when people can see her. Handy with a dagger.

yknow blade? and how under that trenchcoat of his, he's armed to the fucking gills? yeah -- that. if the hood comes down or the jacket opens, someone is dying.

she likes messing with the children of The Abbey. She just LOVES telling bogus stories about her past to em'. From her being hundreds of years old, to her being a reborn monster hunter of yore. she's a GREAT hit with em.

turns out if you dress like the coolest person in room and get to stay up whenever you want, you're top five easy.

sunlight keeps the transformation, the cravings and the urges at bay. those who've become Witches have given in to the urge to retreat into the dark. Stay in the light, Sister Vespera.

is very pragmatic when it comes to the life or death. knows when people gotta leave, and when some people just gotta die.

story notes yippee!

leads the "B Team." of the sisters of the end.

Whilst the Sisters of The End journey forward to risk life and mind for the deliverance of Lost Beacon, The Abbey's recent ventures into staying proactive against ruinous omens require the need of their more... pragmatic sisters of the cloth.

the B Team deals with the "side missions" - reinforcing caravans exploring heartsink locations, investigating threats and abomination reports, and if push comes to shove - defending the abbey from those who'd wish to harm it.

if you get the B Team, you'll wish you've gotten the sisters of the end.

[chloeworships]

Guess I need this

Watchwoman on duty 🫡 lol

[wanderingcotabussurgetank]

Silver Watchwoman by Hinchel Or

[asthegirlturns]

More Christmas Cheer: The crèche, my Snow-Watchwoman, and Ornament Tin. #christmastimeishere #itsbeginningtolookalotlikechristmas #christmascheer #itsthemostwonderfultimeoftheyear #godwithus #tistheseason https://www.instagram.com/p/ClxRmAbrntk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[monbijofficiel]

Monbij.fr | Prix : 25,99 € - LIVRAISON GRATUITE - 10 Coloris | Montre pour Femme, Style Tendance Dreams, Boîtier Rond en Métal de diamètre 38 mm, Cadran Blanc - Follow Your Dreams, Lunette Argent, Bracelet en Cuir de longueur 240 mm et de largeur 20 mm, Affichage Analogique, Mécanisme en Quartz.  Monbijofficiel Instagram