#why are dark mages so solitary

[kradogsrats]

anyway completely unsubstantiated (except that in both the TTRPG and the video game, dark mage characters can straight-up instakill themselves by doing too much dark magic too quickly) headcanon that somewhere between 1 in 8 and 1 in 10 dark mage hopefuls die before completing apprenticeship, but the most dangerous time is actually immediately after that, where 75% survive the first year on their own and only 50% the first five years... without someone to rein them in, they overextend and spiral into corruption burnout

some mages try to beat this grim numbers game by training two apprentices at once, but it actually still evens out because it's about 50-50 on whether they both die, given that nothing feeds both arrogance and desperation like competition

[senseandaccountability]

"I'm me again"

Yes well this is me getting a little sappy - again - about the spirits/demon thing as a metaphor for the human experience, must be Friday. 

(Yes, this is about Solas.)

Last night my Ingellvar was tending to the graves with Emmrich and she said “demons” and immediately corrected herself, because of course she meant spirits but people outside Nevarra so easily call them demons and Emmrich, one of the kindest and most insightful people in the entire DA verse, would of course never do that. Because he sees them all as spirits. Some of them may be twisted, embittered, furious and cruel but to him they are still, at heart, the same being as their more positive virtues. You are always you, as Solas tells Cole. 

Which is also what Solas argues for all of DAI.

Which is also what Solas personal quest actively shows us in DAI.

His friend, broken and twisted by the mages' bindings, dies a spirit of Wisdom, thanking him and telling him not to be sad. “I’m me again.”

Which is also a very strong theme in Solas entire arc. 

But it’s really not just Solas, or the elves. The eternal struggle of spirits is a reflection of the human soul and what it means to be human. What parts of you does the world let you cultivate, what parts are hidden and twisted in the dark, what virtues would you be remembered for if you died tomorrow? What sort of person have you become? What person could you be? DA is crammed with these themes.

Since the spirit reveal/confirmation, I’ve seen a lot of very detailed and very cool discussions about the specifics of spirit virtues and demon characteristics and that’s some good shit right there, but you can also be lazy like me and very much just read it as various aspects of human nature interacting with each other. We’re all so many things over our lifetime, to different people, in different contexts. We all carry such endless capacity for goodness and gentleness and we’re all so very capable of hurting each other.

In the codex entries we see Solas try over and over and over again to appeal to the better nature of the Evanuris. He is described as brilliant and wise, he is pulled out of the Fade specifically for his wisdom and he tries to get them to reflect that, to listen to his concerns, to use their powers differently. Why don’t you make creatures that can protect the People, he asks Ghilan’nain. Why do you need to push your power further, he asks Elgar’nan, the people are already submitting to your rule, why must you shackle them? War may have twisted him up already but there’s nothing he says that isn’t extremely valid and wise about the Evanuris’ approach to ruling.

But as we learn from the Spirit of Command in Crestwood in DAI, wisdom is considered a soft virtue in a world of war and hierarchy and his reasoning falls flat or gets interpreted as fear or insubordination. Unheard and undervalued, his wisdom grows sour and prideful. He isn’t wrong, he knows he isn't, and he will show them. You are not gods, I will make you see that you are not gods. I will humble you until you understand that I am right. 

This is a profoundly human experience.

The ancient elven empire ultimately falls to its own greed and hierarchies and lack of boundaries - all of which Solas pointed out, all of which he and his rebels opposed. But the Evanuris didn’t listen, they were caught in a power scheme where only individual power matters and everyone else becomes pawns. How ironic then that their empire falls to its own foolish pride and boundless cruelty against the Titans, the first children of the earth. They hurt themselves by hurting them. They wound the fabric that binds them all together. 

Solas as a character is an open, ongoing conflict between "spirit" and "demon" aspects, between light and dark, between identifying as a solitary creature or part of the whole. It’s never more visible than during the final act of DAV where he is at once Solas, standing with the Shadow Dragons against the blight. And also Fen’Harel, scheming to get there in the first place, treating people in his way like dehumanized pawns to reach his final destination, a goal that can be argued to be entirely tainted with pride at this point, a way to soothe his conscience and need to be right more than it’s a way to save the world. And he’s the Dread Wolf, physically embodying the struggle against the corrupt powers since he, unlike the Evanuris, doesn’t believe in binding creatures to fight his battles. It’s significant that while he fights alone, he cannot do it without help from Rook. Elgar’nan directs all of the blight at the Dread Wolf and it takes a sacrifice from the team to free him from its grasp. It’s a battle orchestrated by a god. 

And Solas, powerful as he may be, is not a god. 

That is why it’s so lovely to me that the ending isn’t just a matter between Solas and his conscience or between Solas and Rook or Solas and Lavellan. Because we are not single entities. We are not islands. That’s why we need each other, because we respond to each other, we affect each other, we abuse and love each other and we cannot really understand in which ways until we connect. We use each other to remind us of who we are, or who we could be. Every Benevolence needs a Wisdom, every Command needs a Compassion, every one of us needs someone else in some way, shape or form. We are not meant to be solitary. We all share Solas' deepest fear of dying alone. We all share Solas’ ongoing conflict with the better and worse parts of our nature. We all reflect each other. The ending brings in the past, the present and the person that knows Solas not as a god but as a person.

We are shattered fragments of a greater whole and it was, as Morrigan points out, Solas’s love for and loyalty to his people that set him on this course long ago. And he broke the world. He broke his people. He couldn’t save them, all the horrible things that he has done and he still couldn’t save them. Ultimately and emotionally to him, this isn’t about wisdom or pride or good or evil or any such dichotomy, this is about grief and regret and broken humanity.

That is why it’s so powerful to me that a romanced or friendly Lavellan is so kind to him in DAV. They approach him carefully, they kneel down beside him to make a connection, they are understanding and compassionate and it may not be what he deserves on some grand justice scale of things, but it is without question what he needs. Pride and regret and grief need compassion, hope and benevolence much more than it needs to be proven wrong or challenged, kindness breaks the cycle.

They reach out to him not the way one would reach out to a god, but to a person. Because that’s what Solas needs to be reminded of - his humanity. That’s what their love and friendship has always reminded him of, that's what the Inquisition taught him - that the world is worth caring about because broken as it may be, it is also full of people. 

And people matter. They might not matter to the Dread Wolf, but they have always mattered to Solas.

That's what the good ending represents.

"I'm me again." 

[rhetoricandlogic]

Review: Dreadful by Caitlin Rozakis

By Nathan May 23, 2024

Dreadful is a hilarious fantasy that is both a loving, gentle satire of the genre’s many tropes while also being a poignant exploration of how we get to decide who we are going to be in this world. It is perfect for fans who love deconstructions of fantasy books (think a gentler Discworld) and anyone looking for something on the more action-oriented side of cozy fantasy (and without a cup of coffee/tea or bookstore in sight!). I quite enjoyed my time in Rozakis’ world, and this is an impressive, if not perfect, debut novel – one that should be on your radar if you like your fantasy both funny and just a bit saccharine.

Dreadful begins with Gav waking up without any of his memories intact….and quickly discovering that he is one of the big-bad Dark Lords that are so common in epic and heroic fantasy. The issue – he doesn’t know how to be a Dark Lord and is actually a pretty nice guy. Gav has a host of terrified goblin servants and a captured princess and a whole coterie of other dark mages he is supposedly working with on some diabolical plan…and he has no idea how to deal with any of it.

Rozakis’ wit, style, and humor really shine in the early pages of the book, and nothing that came after really enamored me in quite the same way. As Gav awakens with no clue who he is or where he is at, we readers, with our in-depth knowledge of fantasy worlds, come to a much quicker realization of what is going on than Gav does. We understand the oppressed servants, the kidnapped princess, the castle with the creepy aesthetic, and more. This was so much fun because readers, for once, had more information than the main POV character himself, and Rozakis hilariously impales so many of the standard villain tropes. Gav is shocked by the condition of his castle – why is it so ugly? – and how inefficient the whole system is. He laments his surroundings and why the peoples that his castle controls (a single solitary village that can only grow garlic) are so destitute and poor. Why would anyone be proud of this? Why would anyone want to be surrounded by this? Everything you think while reading about any stereotypical fantasy villain is put on full display here, and I had such a wonderful time laughing along with Rozakis’ observations!

If you are a fan of villainous characters and are perhaps a bit disappointed that this book’s main character is trying to live a less villainous lifestyle, don’t worry! Rozakis packs the book full of various villainy characters – characters that all have their own goals and lengths that they are willing to go to achieve their evil plans. Rozakis also has a lot of fun “inverting” the traditional dynamic between heroes and villains. The “villains” in Dreadful are given names, personalities, backstories, etc., while the heroing party coming to save the princess are glorified background characters. They don’t have names and readers can barely distinguish between them, which was such a clever way of exploring the character archetypes in epic fantasy, while also allowing Gav and co. to shine in their own ways as the book moved through towards its conclusion.

I did find that the book lost a bit of steam after Gav starts to figure out who he is and how this world operates. Dreadful isn’t able to maintain its momentum and humor as the book becomes a bit more plot-based, and the initial hilarious observations about fantasy tropes starts to fade into the background. The biggest issue here, and with many cozy fantasy (or cozy fantasy-adjacent books) is that the plot isn’t all that interesting. It is fairly simplistic and cannot sustain or support the book as it moves into its second and third acts. Rozakis occupies Gav’s world with a bevy of fun and memorable characters, but doesn’t quite him them enough to actually do. Some potentially exciting moments (like quests for some MacGuffins) are completely skipped over, and so the book just eventually becomes a bunch of characters explaining things to each other without actually having them DO anything. This is what ultimately bumped this down to a four star book from me; the book is nearly perfect, but it stumbles in its middle section.

As the book reaches its falling action, I was back on board again. As Gav and the rest of the crew reconsider everything that they thought they’ve learned about themselves, Rozakis finds a way to reach through the humor and pull at some heartstrings. She beautifully explores the concept of identity – is our identity predetermined for us? Are we allowed to change? Are we allowed to take control of our own destinies and assert our own agency? At the beginning of Dreadful, it seems like everyone has some predetermined role to play that fits into the tropes of the fantasy story – the evil villain, the put-down henchmen, the damsel in distress. And yet through the book the characters realize that they don’t actually fit those archetypes, that what they want out of life is so much more than the boxes that they had initially been put into. I loved this ending so so so very much and made the whole book worth reading.

Dreadful was such a fun read that was relaxing and cozy, but made sure to insert an actual plot. I definitely enjoyed my time with it, and if a cozy comedy with heart sounds good to you in your fantasy reading, then make sure to put this near or at the top of your TBR. It’s not perfect, especially for readers who are looking for dense or complex plotting, but it is a fun send-up to so many of the villainous fantasy tropes.

[gascon-en-exil]

2, 3, 8, 25 for Hubert?

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

That he's a murderer, and a patricide at that.

In past FEs and especially in Genealogy, voluntary kinslaying is presented as pretty much the worst crime you can commit, and a shorthand indicating that a character is an irredeemable monster who needs to die (ex. Chagall, Andrey). There are multiple conversations to that effect in FE4, and it crops up in a few other games as well; it's why the big Gaiden/Echoes twist is meant to hit as hard as it does, or why Ashnard has zero redeeming qualities when his backstory essentially amounts to "removing" his entire family.

And meanwhile Hubert's over here casually killing his father offscreen in two separate continuities for no greater reason than political expedience, and sometimes even getting away with it. Koei-Tecmo doesn't appear to place the same moral weight on kinslaying, since Dimitri, Claude, and...Ferdinand all perform such an act onscreen in Hopes (hmm, I wonder if the reason Edelgard is the only house leader excluded here has anything to do with the topic of my latest video...?), but I don't think that detracts from Hubert committing Obvious Villain Act #1 and giving not one single solitary fuck about it.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Mostly his Lysithea supports in Hopes, which try to spin him as loving his mother and younger sister in spite of the aforementioned gleeful kinslaying. You can't tell me he wouldn't murder his other relatives if he believed they somehow posed a threat to Edelgard's reign. Like a few of his other Hopes supports, it's a conspicuously cutesy spin on a character who otherwise escapes the generally ridiculous ways that the writing of both games attempts to make Edelgard and Jeritza sympathetic. (She draws pictures of her teacher! He likes kittens and ice cream!)

8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Related to the above, any attempt at softening Hubert. He's a calculating, ruthless murderer who would do literally anything if he thought it would further Edelgard's rule even if it's behind her back or she expressly forbids it, because he - in that standard incel vein - thinks he knows what a woman wants better than she does. That characterization has the potential for so much black comedy, especially when thrown up against the guileless and indefatigable Ferdinand.

Why anyone would want to throw that away and replace it with an angsty emo who's not really a bad guy once you get to know him is beyond me. If you want an angsty guy with a massive guilt complex, Dimitri's right there and even gayer.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

When we first got his character intro in spring 2019: "He looks like Iago. He's going to push Edelgard into evil, or betray her halfway through the story...but still be playable, probably?"

Now, he's every bit as ugly and evil as I expected, and then some. Carries the constantly-faltering tone of Crimson Flower on his bony shoulders, a badass dark mage and a playable patricide, and to top it all off he's bisexual in a way that none of the bi-for-Byleth options can even touch, and unlike Dimitri fandom at large has turned Ferdibert into his most popular ship. One of the mostly unexpectedly good characters to have come out of FE16, considering that at the end of the day he still pretty much is "but what if we made Iago playable?"

[zanes-writing-diary]

Idk if this counts as actual WRITING but I made a list of all my BG3 character ideas, I play with a lot of mods found on the xbox mod manager so that's why some of these may look unfamiliar

Also if you see any typos or mistakes shhhh no you didn't (I made this while half asleep so hop off my dick /lh )

(WIP) = I dont know the full Durge/Vampire Durge lore, I will workshop the character's backstory as I go

Cleric: Life Domain (Deity: Kelemvor) - Custom, High Elf, Urchin, a street urchin that got basically adopted into Kelemvor's clergy in Baldur's Gate, their best friend's death and them being infected sets off them eventually destroying that branch of the clergy (the whole lore is a lot to explain lol)

Druid: Circle Of The Spores - Custom, Human, Outlander, born and raised in their circle but having to run away when their circle was destroyed by someone who betrayed the circle, so while looking for a cure to the tadpole they are also looking for that traitor

Paladin: Oath Of Devotion to Oathbreaker - Durge/Vampire Durge, Human, Soldier, a paladin serving a lord, but the lord betrayed them by cursing them with amnesia, which caused the dark urge to form, and then casting them out where all they can remember is part of their oath, which inevitably leads to them becoming an oathbreaker against their wishes, nonetheless they will do what they can to destroy the absolute and save humanity (WIP)

Ranger: Hunter - Custom, Asmodeus Tiefling, Folk Hero, notable bounty hunter who's made their living being the one who hunts the worst villains to protect others, ended up getting kidnapped and infected by mind flayers so now wants to hunt the Absolute and its cult

Ranger: Gloom Stalker - Durge/Vampire Durge, Lolth-Sworn Drow, Noble/Charlatan/Haunted One, a Drow who wanted to leave Lolth's cult due to meeting a non-Drow that basically fixed them and Lolth got her revenge by somehow convincing Bhaal to infect them with the Dark Urge (WIP)

Ranger: Horizon Walker - Custom, High Elf/Half-High Elf, Outlander, a kid basically raised by the wild after their parents got mauled by gnolls and the gnolls didn't find the infant due to the parents hiding them well enough, but a being beyond the planes found them and recruited them to be a Horizon Walker, teaching them everything they needed to know

Warlock: Rememberance - Durge, Human, Soldier/Haunted One, a soldier who once died in war and came back worse (with a dark urge and no memories) so theyre searching for their past and what happened (WIP)

Warlock: Celestial - Custom, Human, Folk Hero, the once-god-level-powerful child of a fallen deity who is hiding themselves amongst humans while trying to save as many people as possible and also try to find answers on what happened to their parent

Warlock: Great Old One - Custom, Human, Acolyte, someone who was born to a strict traditional Tyrran family but when their father tried to kill them, they made a deal with an eldritch being for survival, and after being kicked out they worked on saving as many people as possible, because in their eyes they had to redeem themselves in the eyes of their father and the gods

Blood Mage - Custom/Vampire Durge, Human, Noble, the child of a noble family that was handed off to an experiment to see if they could create a vampire ascendant, but the experiment went wrong, it gave them access to blood magic but also changed them by haunting them with the souls of all the spawn that died to ascend them (and a dark urge if I do a durge origin) (WIP)

Mind Weaver: Astral Seer/Void Reaver - Custom, High Elf, Sage, a being from the Astral Plane who came down to deal with the Absolute so it doesn't disrupt the balance but got kidnapped by the mind flayers and infected, which weakened them

Witch: Herbalist - Custom, Human/Wood Elf/Half-Wood Elf, Outlander, a solitary witch living in a beautiful forest who got kidnapped by mind flayers during a trip into civilization and now has to work to get the tadpole out

Witch: Hex Witch - Custom/Durge/Vampire Durge, Human/High Elf/Lolth-Sworn Drow, Outlander, a solitary witch living in a much deeper, darker forest who mamaged to get kidnapped by mind flayers during one of the rare trips into civilization and now has to work to get the tadpole out (if Durge/Vampire Durge: they would never hunt down innocent people but if anyone bothered them and refused to leave they would sacrifice the intruder for more power)(WIP)

I know it's cringe, I know a lot of it probably isn't lore accurate but eh whatever

[themagpiesnest-tff]

Trouble Near the Southern Border!

By now all of Midsummer has heard.

On decree of their majesties King Oberon and Queen Mab and as well as the Solitary Fae Council of Chieftains, all willing fae must report to the south edge of the Wildlands. Horsebacked messengers have rode the full lengths of the forest, dispersing urgent summons.

While Queen Mab has dispersed this information with quiet urgency and the occasional promise of gold or favors to those of particularly high skill, it is said King Oberon's knights have burst into the homes of some of the more talented spellcasters and warriors in the city and recruiting them there by force.

Even the Solitary Fae's spellcasters have also come in large numbers, including the famed Shark Clan singing mages, Fox Clan illusionists and Sparrow Clan healing mages. A diverse camp of warriors and magic casters is beginning to form near the rip, with tents, simple wood structures structures, glamoured huts are being assembled to accommodate the expected numbers.

Dearest readers, I cannot help but feel like something terrible is to come. Why are knights and warriors needed? Why is the situation so urgent that they have asked for the help of mere civilians? Why must we all make the trip to the Wildlands with such extreme haste? Reports of knights in full armor marching toward southern part of the forest have reached my ears. Yet, still no word from the royals. I have never been one to take kindly to being left in the dark. If there is a secret to be found I will find it.

Expect word from me soon.

[dyrewrites]

Because I can't stop, I offer some magic notes for my Bloodhound/Before Deluca and Chronicles of Ash universe.

REGARDLESS OF MAGIC SATURATION IN THEIR BLOOD ONLY WITCHES CAN CAST MAGIC WITHOUT A CONDUIT -- such as sigils. All else need to draw their magic out through something else.

Mages are born with magic. It's a random occurrence for nonmagical/mundane to birth a mage. But mages always make mages--so long as they're doing so with humans, magical or not--so it's possible to do on purpose. They gravitate toward a Source but owe no allegiance, and are always human (even if other humans disagree and did hunt them during the witch trials, until they helped hunt actual witches and some took a more religious bent to their magic to perform 'miracles'). They're too varied to give a summary but all are capable of magic, through a conduit. A conduit can be their voice, it doesn't have to be complex but most seem to prefer sigils drawn on things--or in the air. Many tattoo frequently used ones on their skin.//mages, at this point, run the world and would like complete control--not all mages but a select few are really trying to make mages the only ones that matter.

Witches are Mages who give themselves wholesale to a Source and become something not quite human to match it. They embody their Source, to a terrifying degree and are often solitary things with their own agenda who act out only when challenged--a Nature witch might work to revitalize forests and use any who attempt to cut it down as fertilizer. Use of magic is too varied and all of it powerful and largely unavoidable. There are very few things that can counter a witch's magic and killing them is even harder. Figuring out their Source helps, but only if you know what you're doing. //Few are interested in social or political affairs since the witch trials, they just want to be left alone to do their thing. Woe be the one who prevents that.

Warlocks are nonmagical creatures--of any species--who make a pact with a Source to obtain magic and often incur some deformity. Their magic requires more physical conduits, such as body parts. Crafting dolls of hair and sending them out to curse people is common. Curses in general are most common. Do not piss off a warlock. //There are a surprising number of warlocks in political seats, or working for politicians, they're more interested in meddling with things it seems.

Witchblood is a term for Mages with low magic saturation in their blood as this tends to happen when one mixes with Witches. Because Witch beats Mage power-wise and their Sources like consistency, and purity and mixing your gifted and powerful blood with lessers is going to dilute it (Unless both parents are Witches, in which case you get a mundane if different Source or a witch with instant tether to their parents' Source if the same)

Mages have no affiliation to a Source but tend to gravitate toward one anyway and are rewarded by them when they embody it--bonded or not.

SOURCES MANIFEST HOWEVER THEY LIKE. THEY'RE THE INCARNATION OF AN IDEA OR FORCE.

But they do have personalities, are alive after a fashion, and take direct interest in their charges. Depending on the the Source, this may not be a good thing.

**This list is incomplete but all that are known at the time**

Major -- Sources all the others stem from. Sources EVERYTHING stems from. They change and adapt as needed to the reality they're apart of, but their actions, and those they gift their attention and power to, impact all else.

Life

Death

Desire

Sense

Will

Magic

Minor -- Sources manifesting almost by the second based on how the world operates, and the actions of the Major Sources and their charges. Everything ripples out, everyone effects everyone else.

Blood

Bone

Breath

Flesh

Light

Dark

Water

Air

Earth

Fire

Nature

Ingenuity

One might be confused as to why Sleep isn't on the other lists. It exists between Life and Death but isn't its own Source. It is a conduit for others instead.

Outer -- Sources outside what is deemed 'reality', they're of dream and wish and wonder. But, as of now, all Outer Sources have been claimed, bartered away, or otherwise lost to a single Source.

That of Faerie.

[blueteller]

This is a pretty neat idea! Let's have a shot at this, why not?

(I guess this doesn't count as a whole fic, but an extension of a headcanon? But whatever!)

***

It started as a normal day off for Kim Rok Soo. He went to the library, checked out the whole fantasy series called "The Birth of a Hero", spent the afternoon reading up to the fifth volume, and fell asleep.

When he woke up, he was hatching from an egg. Yes, you heard that right.

For some reason, he reincarnated into a Dragon. In the world of the very book series he was reading. An infant Crimson Dragon.

When he opens his eyes in this new life, he is alone.

Which is perfectly fine by him. Dragons are solitary beings, anyway. And he isn't a normal baby Dragon anyway; he still possesses the mind of a 36-year-old human adult, with all his Records intact.

Near the nest he hatched in, he finds a diary. Apparently his mother hid him from some crazy humans trying to hunt Dragons. In the diary, she promises to return after she deals with them. Kim Rok Soo has a sinking feeling she is never coming back.

Unfortunately, he is right.

But Kim Rok Soo decides that this new life isn't all that bad. He's a Dragon now, basically one of the strongest beings in existence. There are no expectations on him to intervene with the plot of the story: Choi Han never met any Dragons aside from that crazy Black one raised by Venion Stan.

...Speaking of which.

Kim Rok Soo quickly figures out how magic works, and polymorphs into a human resembling his old self, except now his hair is red, and his face much prettier. Then he heads to the nearest human settlement - turns out his nest was located in a forest in the Breck Kingdom - and finds out the current date.

...He is two years before the start of the plot. One year before Choi Han finds Harris Village.

Kim Rok Soo decides - for totally logical, selfish, absolutely-not-altruistic reasons - that he should probably do something about it. "It" being Choi Han lost in the Forest of Darkness, and the two-year-old Black Dragon being tortured by Venion Stan.

It's the easiest thing to find Choi Han and convince him that them meeting is a simple coincidence. He as a young Dragon, you see, he doesn't owe anyone explanation why he does things; and anyway, making his lair in the Forest of Darkness seems perfect. Being one of the Forbidden Regions, it will certainly make the perfect place to stay hidden when the war it breaks out around the Western Continent.

In a moment of distraction, he introduces himself as Bob. Kim Rok Soo dearly regrets this thoughtless choice later on, but he's too lazy to change it. He will forever be known as Bob the Crimson Dragon.

Choi Han is, naturally, extremely grateful to his Dragon savior. It takes no effort at all to convince him to help rescue another Dragon from slavery. Bob the Dragon wants to keep low profile, after all.

So Choi Han and Bob rescue the two-year-old Dragon, and Bob names him Raon Miru. ...Only then Bob realizes his error, as these two seem absolutely attached to him now. What will happen to the plot of the Birth of a Hero now???

...Well, no crying over the spilled milk, Bob decides. If Choi Han doesn't decide to go on the journey by himself, he might as well guide him there. The help of a super powerful being as a Dragon - two actually, since Raon joins in as well - might help the plot go a lot faster and smoother.

Surely, nothing will go wrong with this plan!

...Two years later, Bob the Dragon is utterly confused.

There are people inside his Forest of Darkness Villa. All the time. As if his house was the hottest tourist spot around the continent.

Somehow - and Bob swears, he has no idea how - on top of the Protagonist and the Black Dragon child, he got saddled with an Ancient Golden Dragon, a ghost White Dragon, a Beige Farmer Dragon, a Pink Tween Dragon, 2 Cat Beast children, a whole village of Wolves, several Whales, an Elf healer, secret-Dark-Elf prince, a wish-to-be-ex-princess mage, an ex priestess, and many others.

Bob the Crimson Dragon looks at the chaotic zoo that is his house, filled with people looking at him with uncomprehensive admiration, and despairs.

It wasn't supposed to be like this...!

-The End.

Can someone please write a fanfic with overpowered dragon Cale? OG!Cale Henituse doesn't exist because KRS got reincarnated as him but for some reason he is also a dragon. With Rok Soo just having the time of his life until he has to step up because a bunch of people just started appearing inside of his house? With like Eruhaben who is just confused about this very abnormal teenage dragon?

Thank you very much. This is a dragon!Cale AU which is very much free to use, someone please write more dragon Cale. Please.

#

[charleecat-bat]

Sonic Cast in the Magic AU

This consists of small snippets of backstory and information of sonic characters in my Mage/Magic AU. I’ve been working on this for months and it’s been worked on bit by bit and left in my tumblr drafts so i’m SO HAPPY that it’s gonna be posted now.

if you have any questions about the au, feel free to ask! :D

Decided to add the thing so it doesn’t make looking at it on mobile hell-

Sonic Windstep- A hedgehog who has been described as a literal speed demon, both for his extraordinary skills of flight but his raw talent and mastery of momentum magic. Not only can he manipulate his own momentum, by making himself as fast or as slow as he needs to be, but he can alter the speed and movement of other objects and people. He can go from slowing people down to sending them flying whenever he wishes. While he’s got a good heart, he’s not exactly good at staying out of trouble, and his use of magic certainly keeps him out of it; but it’s better at keeping others out of danger. He’s one of the most well-known mages in the land, getting all kinds of attention. His familiar is a Peregrine Falcon. 

Amy Rose- This cheery hedgehog lady has a very peculiar type of magic. Her magic is quite literally in the cards with card magic, and not just about the clairvoyant use of them with fortune telling (although she does enjoy doing that and was the first trick she learnt). With a special set of crafted magic cards, she can use them for a multitude of different spells and magical enhancements, such as summoning weapons or objects, setting traps, or enchanting herself depending on the cards. She can even use the very cards themselves as a projectile. It’s a very versatile set of magic that is difficult to master, but she is well on her way to doing so. She usually helps out at Vanilla’s inn or at Honey’s studio but she enjoys doing Tarot Card readings on the side. Her familiar is a swan... that seems to act exactly like her, cheerful and loving one moment... and then horrifyingly aggressive the next.

Miles ‘Tails’ Prower- A young fox who’s already a prodigy, his intelligence being far greater than anyone of his age. Despite the terrible teasing he suffered during his earliest years, getting to the point of dark rumours about him being born with two tails, he’s grown past it and training hard to become a great and wise magic user. Tails’ magic is one that isn’t very common and even harder to master, the magic arts of an Artificer (At least I hope I’m getting this right-). Everyone is aware of magically enhanced items and almost everyone has used them at some point in their life but very few can make them, yet Tails is already steadily learning the ropes of those very skills. As an artificer, he constantly comes up with ideas for enchanted items, from tools to weapons and uses his own specialised tools and magic to create them... it doesn’t always work but he won’t ever quit! His familiar is an Octopus, who frequently likes to hang out on his arms and play with his tools and spare parts.

Nakon 'Knuckles' Guardia- A reclusive echidna who comes from a long thought extinct clan of solitary echidna mages. Very little is known about this clan except they were very powerful and defended many magic-infused artifacts, but they suddenly just vanished. Only Knuckles remained and has been on his own in the Emerald Groves ever since he could remember and continues to live in them to this day. No one knows what happened to them, or why Knuckles is the only one left and neither does he. He may not have memories of his clan and has had to fend for himself from a young but that doesn’t matter to him. He strives to keep up the honourable duty that his ancestors did before him. Knuckles uses an ancient form of nature/earth magic that is very difficult to replicate, very very few mages can accomplish ancient forms of magic. His familiar is a dragon, which matches his rare and powerful magic.

Shadow Ranchor - A mysterious and almost unsettling hedgehog whose origins are unknown to many; even his own memories of his past are foggy. What he does remember was his dearest friend, Maria Ranchor. Whom she and Shadow were watched over by her grandfather. who had found him and taken him back to their home but did not tell him anything else about his origins. Maria was a sickly girl and was frequently bedridden or had to have elixirs that only did so much at a time. Her grandfather tried desperately to find a cure for her disease but most of his attempts were unsuccessful. Unfortunately, they were attacked by a mysterious cult, Maria was killed trying to protect Shadow and her grandfather was taken away; never to be seen again. Shadow had fought these cult members the best he could but they subdued him... and that’s the last of what he can remember. He had awoken from this slumber-like stasis, the emotional wounds still fresh and rage still fueling but only to discover 50+ years had passed now... He shows great talent in one of the more notorious branches of magic, blood magic. He not only can control his own blood, such as stopping himself from bleeding, shaping it and manipulating or using it in blood rituals. He can also manipulate other people's blood which can be... very bad. He, later on, discovers that he is an artificial being made by the same cult that attacked Maria and her grandfather. He doesn’t know their connection to the cult but he vows he will discover his past if it’s the last thing he does. His familiar is a surprising one to some, A dove. It originally was Maria’s but he has taken it as his own, a true sign of devotion and love to her.

Rouge Éblouissante- An alluring and beautiful bat mage who seems to have an obsession of all sorts of gemstones and jewels... but for good reason! Her magic, gemstone magic, stems around the very use of crystals and jewels. She’s able to use many of them to grant her all sorts of enhancements and perform particular spells and even use them to make gorgeous charms for her liking. Not many people know of her past, she loves to tease that she’s full of mystery and can’t give it all away. She runs a cabaret that is a very popular hot spot, the home she lives in is above the building. Her familiar is a peacock.

Silver Occasio - Despite barely being a mage yet and still learning, the teenaged hedgehog holds a massive amount of power for someone his age. Silver's talents lie with time/divination magic, being able to control time such as slow it down, and speed it up (he has yet to discover if he can even alter the past..). He can also see the future and look into the past to some degree, although both of these can be very... upsetting for him, he's seen things that he'd rather not have. These powers have given him some amount of stress but he has tried his best to control and come to terms with them. Despite the heavy duty of these powers, Silver tries his best to be an optimistic and cheery little dork. Currently, he’s being tutored by the finest mages in the Sol kingdom, some would call him lucky but the mages don’t really help with the pressure. Thankfully he has found support and comfort in his best friend, the Princess herself. His familiar is an owl.

Blaze Emberlot- The teenaged princess of the Sol Kingdom, her bloodline has ruled over the kingdom for many decades; many members of her family tree bare great and powerful magic. Blaze is naturally talented with the powerful magic that is fire/heat magic. This of course has left her kingdom... greatly concerned. As a child, she struggled to control it and many children even feared her for it. For many years she has been monitored by her kingdom and trained under the very best mages, it’s more been keeping an eye on her and making sure she doesn’t destroy the whole kingdom though... Despite the destructive power of her magic, she performs it with such grace and elegance and always keeps a cool, calm exterior; hiding the burning passion inside. This has settled a lot of her kingdom's concerns for her, but it has not settled her own inner anxiety. Her familiar is a lion, suiting the tradition of her family line having big cat creatures as their companions.

Cream Maplewood- A sweet little girl who has just started her learning of magic, yet at a young age she already shows exceptional talent with beast/animal-based magic. Being gifted with the ability to not only communicate with all sorts of creatures but even pacify them. She can’t do much else at this moment, but with how much she’s achieved so far; she’s sure to be a powerful mage. Her familiar shows great promise with how rare it is, a unicorn. It is not her only companion however, Cream seems to attract a large number of creatures called Chao; one who she has gotten very close with and called Cheese.

Vanilla Maplewood- The gentle and nurturing mother of Cream, she owns a inn/bakery where she excels in her quite unusual magic specialty. Culinary magic. Not only does her food actually manage to heal your wounds and injuries if needed, can improve your mood, improve your health and lift sickness and many other properties depending on whatever she bakes and cooks. She even learnt how to cook a large amount with only a small amount of rations, saving her money and wasting very little. Her bakery is very successful and popular and she is known as one of the best culinary magic users. Her familiar is a deer.

Big Immanis- A laidback gentle giant that has quite a shroud of mystery on him. Very few know much about him except the obvious, that he’s a quiet fisherman that prefers a life of serenity and simply doesn’t talk much about himself unless it’s about his love of fish. Many assume things about him as they haven’t seen him be anything but as a fisherman but little do they know that he is very powerful both with his immense strength and size and his mastery of water magic, even being able to manipulate ice itself which is not an easy feat to achieve for those who attempt water magic. It wouldn’t be a good idea to get on his bad side, but thankfully he’s so easygoing he’d barely ever want to hurt anyone unless given a good reason to. Who knows what else has happened in his life... His familiar is a frog and has been by his side for as long as he can remember and his best friend nicknames him Froggy.

Vector Marblemaw- a large loudmouthed crocodile with a heart of gold. His magic is quite unique and considered odd but very fitting for Vector. His specialty lies in incantation/vocal magic, which surrounds his voice/vocalisations in order for his magic to work. Ranging from powerful attacks to gentle healing spells, as long as he has his voice, his magic is strong. So he indeed lives by the phrase loud and proud. He runs a Watchmen service which mostly aids in public safety, crime prevention, crime detection, and recovery of stolen goods; whether enchanted or not. Although it can be hard for them to find work, they’re definitely good at what they do. His familiar is a whale, a powerful yet gentle creature that is known to sing and vocalise just as he does. He used to be embarrassed by this familiar when he was younger but not anymore.

Espio Omagatoki- a calm and collected mage who has a surprising talent in a branch of darker magic, shadow magic. While his magic has frightened and unnerved many but he does his best to teach people that the darker magics don't necessarily mean they're evil from the start. He knows he’s not a bad person and his magic shouldn’t dictate that, and so far he's been successful in changing some people's minds. He works with his close friend, Vector in his Watchmen service, using his magic to assist them in their work; he especially strives well in stealth-related missions. His familiar is a praying mantis, and yes he knows the irony of it you don’t need to mention it he’s heard it way too many times.

Charmy Marblemaw- A young, energetic and hyperactive bee that Vector had adopted and taken under his wing. Despite being a bit easily distracted and even... annoying to some, he is still a good kid and still tries hard to learn about his magic, even if it’s at his own pace. He has recently learnt he has a knack for light magic and while only being able to do flashy performances with it, he'll slowly but surely learn how bendable this branch of magic is. His familiar is/will be a hummingbird. If he gets it now, all he'll be able to do with it, for now, is just talk to the familiar and maybe fly around with it on his staff which he finds kinda boring unless he feels too lazy to fly himself. That’s a rule with children and familiars, the only rare exception is that magic can be used through the familiars while on their staffs.

Mighty Armoure- a kindhearted but strong armadillo man, his durability and strength is something to behold but yet he’s full of surprises, not even with his pacifistic nature but his magical specialty, his talents lie in bard/music magic. While considered unusual or even a more comical branch of magic, Mighty truly shows just how powerful it can be if used correctly. From the strums of his bass guitar to his powerful voice, he wows people with just how well he uses this magic. Of course, he prefers using it outside of fighting, best believe he will and not even have to use his strength… probably a good idea if you didn’t anyway. He’s usually a traveller and goes from place to place but always comes back home to visit and make sure his siblings are doing well as they study. He and Matilda didn’t have a good homelife originally but they’ve moved on from that now and don’t speak of it. His familiar is a bear, and just like Mighty, it's fiercely protective and it’s not smart to get on its bad side.

Matilda Armoure- The younger and much more snarky and witty sister of Mighty. While she has jokingly said she studies the dark arts, this is simply her just messing with people. Her magic specialises around art magic/animation, having the power to bring things to life, but excelling at things that come from her own creation, mostly through drawing and sculptures, but she can still bring to life any inanimate object that has a solid form (So don’t go asking her to just bring a random slap of stone to life it won’t work). Luckily for her, if she so needs it, she has quite a vivid and interesting imagination so if she needs to protect herself, she has a full sketchbook of things that can protect her. Her familiar is a fox and loves to jokingly mess with people just as she does, not even Matilda is safe from suddenly loud strange sounds from the creature.

Ray Fellowes- a jumpy and skittish young flying squirrel boy. He’s a close companion of Mighty, almost an unofficially adopted little brother to him. Despite his nervousness, is deeply loyal and a clever young mage. He's discovered his talents lie within healing magic. While not having much confidence in his abilities just yet, he's still learning and willing to make himself stronger. In the meantime, he's happy to still at least have magic that can help others. He’s also aware his branch of magic can have a dark side to it, where it can inflict injury and illness instead of taking it away but he’s smart enough to be cautious of that side of it. His familiar is a mouse that tends to hide in his sleeves if it’s not on his staff, not out of shyness, but simply out of comfort.

Nack ‘Fang’ Bizirik-  A scrappy hybrid criminal that has had a rough go of life. Nack didn't have the nicest beginnings, he was discarded by his birth parents and given to a cult (this cult stemming from the one that created Shadow). This cult experimented with spells and curses and used orphan children as their test subjects; Nack was one of these subjects. He wasn’t at an age to know that a curse was put on him that stunted all of his magic and only when the curse was broken would be able to use his natural magic again. He was soon tracked down by his uncle (after finding out what his trashy parents did) and to avoid any trouble by the mage, simply gave the child back to him to raise himself, his uncle raised him the best he could and was a supportive figure for him. Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to raise the young hybrid and after continuing to grow older and still lacking any magic ability, he ran away from home; angry and bitter at the world. He became a thief and stole many-an-item. He used many of these stolen enchanted items and charms to make up for his lack of magic. He soon met Bark and Bean not long after and grew close to them, even becoming something of a family with them over time. When he found out about his curse it was... not fun to say the least, but it was discovered his talents circles around shapeshifting magic when it was broken. Fun times! His familiar is a beetle, who he found discarded in trash not long after running away, it was Nack's only friend for the longest time.

Bartek 'Bark' Nor'easter- A mute, physically imposing and powerful polar bear mage. He comes from a pure-blooded, wealthy and high-class family of mages, the Nor’easter family. They had high expectations put on him the moment he was born. He was expected to have natural-born skills with mind magic, which involves telekinesis, telepathy and many more, and he did. This is what his parents expected him to study and nothing else, whether he liked it or not. Bark was made to be a certain way and act and do as his parents wanted, when he didn't; they were not afraid to use their mind control on him to have him be as obedient and ‘perfect’ as possible. This abuse gave Bark the determination and spite to become stronger than they ever could be with this magic. lived up to that self-made promise, he's by far one of the strongest mages when it comes to Mind Magic, almost becoming feared for how powerful and adept he is at using it. Most telepath users only being able to talk to one or a few handfuls of people at a time, Bark can use his to speak to massive crowds at once... albeit his power can extremely overwhelming and it's wise not to have him lose his composure else it'd be by far the worst meltdown for everyone else... He left his home quickly after he was finished with his studies and hasn’t spoken to his parents since and still tries to rid himself of their reputation. His connections with a criminal (Nack) and a troubled child (Bean) that he has taken under his wing definitely don’t help with his image but he’s trying to live his life in the way he wants for once and still trying to heal from his parent's treatment. His familiar is an Elk, he got his familiar much later than most magic users as his family didn't let him have one in case it served as a distraction, and man does he feel like he missed out.

Bean Nor'easter- a troubled young mage that was adopted by Bark after he found him and took him under his wing. He is a talented potion-master, and while it's easy for most magic users to accomplish creating potions with a bare amount of magic. His skill is on a level that requires use of spells to give it that extra... spice. And his creative thinking definitely helps with this. Unfortunately, he was mentally unstable and no one knew why or didn't care to find out. Only seeing this boy as a danger and thinking he needed to be dealt with. Bark would discover not long after befriending him that a curse was placed on the boy when he was young. Bean didn’t remember how he got it but it was the cause of his mental instability, it’s a fairly common and weak curse. Thankfully with Bark's support and doses of elixir, he’s improved greatly and had a smooth road to recovery. He continues to improve with his magic and hopes to become a powerful potion master. His familiar is a Pheonix, which is a very rare creature to acquire as a familiar, he found it after hearing a nearby explosion in the forest he lives near and they took a liking to each other. Explosion-prone buddies!

Scourge Abscond-  An arrogant and reckless hedgehog that bares quite a resemblance to Sonic... as he should, as they are actually cousins! They used to be close growing up, but unfortunately, they weren’t given the same attention. Scourge was not as lucky as Sonic when it came to receiving positive attention. Poor Scourge has always felt stuck in his cousin's shadow, never seemingly being able to live up to the ‘better’ child. Envy and bitterness grew in him and they drifted apart. During their teenage years, Scourge finally ran off and has become a known criminal since. His specialty lies in teleportation/portal magic, which definitely comes in handy when you choose to do crime for a living. Sonic has many attempts to reach out and reform his cousin but... it’s yet to go well. His familiar is a hyena, and for a long time has been his only friend that he can rely on.

Jet Skyborne- A brash and cocky hawk teenager whos very interested in flight-related sports and has shown to have great skill and talent in them, he, unfortunately, isn’t at the top yet. Despite his arrogant and prideful attitude, he uses it to mask his insecurity and jealousy. Especially towards Sonic, who Jet claims that he’s a rival to him and vice-versa(Sonic definitely doesn’t see him as such and more of an annoying teenager who constantly wants to challenge him-). One of the biggest reasons for his insecurity is the kind of magic that he seems to be talented at, weather magic. He badly wishes he could have something better, and even tries to fight it by trying to learn different magics and cast them but no matter how hard he tries to fight it, weather magic is his specialty and he can't get away from it. He sometimes struggles to control it and it ties to his emotions in the worst ways so when he gets at his worst... it’s not a fun experience. It even resulted in injuring his older cousin, another reason why he hates his magic. His familiar is an eagle, he loves to fly with it and it’s the one thing he’s truly proud to have.

Wave Skyborne- an ambitious and self-confident swallow woman, ever since she was but a teenager she’s always had a mindset and interest in business endeavours and while it did take some plotting, she eventually managed to get a good business flowing with her natural talent as an alchemist. She’s very skilled in the art and science of alchemy but that doesn’t mean she has her competitors, she has a slight rivalry with the young prodigy Tails. She belittles him and calls him an amateur but will never admit that she’s quite impressed with how skilled he is, even at his age she wasn’t nearly as good. While she can say things to her brother and cousin that might get them at each other's throats, especially Storm, she truly does care for them... she doesn’t know how to show it. She hopes that if her business is successful enough she can provide not just her but her brother and cousin with all the riches and wealth for them to be able live happily; she’ll never stop trying to achieve her goal. Her familiar is a wasp, while very aggressive to most people, it’s very close to Wave and loves to stick by her at all times, and if not, it’s found taking naps on her head or in her toolbox.

Storm Skyborne- A large, loyal albatross man, he may not be the brightest bulb but he really does mean well and tries his hardest. The magic that he specialises in is quite unexpected for someone like him, his powers specialise in emotion/empathetic magic. He doesn’t really know how to feel about him having this kind of magic himself, he never has. It’s not bad magic to have but he just hasn’t figured everything out about it. Unfortunately magic for him lately has been even more difficult and hard for him to control following an... incident he had that left him injured and both mentally and physically scarred. Since that day, casting magic in general and even some physical activity has been difficult to accomplish, at worst his magic can unleash in uncontrollable spurts and considering the type of magic he’s naturally talented in... it’s pretty bad for everyone around him. It’s often easy to tell when he’s not in a good mood or having a bad day, as it just affects everyone around him. Because of his misfortune with magic, he’s begun to avoid being out in public for too long as some folks had even considered him a bad omen... Since then he’s just tried to focus on using his physical strength over magic as much as he could; even if it doesn’t get him too far. His familiar is a shark, who is actually quite a sweetheart and very affectionate, especially to Storm.

Zero Edevane AKA Infinite- A dark and brooding jackal man whose life has gone down a dark path. He was the eldest of his siblings and without parents, he took it upon himself to be the responsible one and look after their family. His speciality revolved around illusion magic, although he would face belittlement from some folks, as some see Illusion magic as a weaker branch of magic. Unfortunately, tragedy struck his family, his siblings had died and he was the lone survivor of the family. This filled him with sadness and rage, seeking revenge on the ones that destroyed his life and took his family away from him. A got his hands on a very powerful but cursed artefact and decided he was going to use it to get his revenge. And it did grant him lots of power and grant him the ability to wield the very rare and unstable magic of chaos magic. He went on a rampage and his mind was corrupted by the power of the artefact. Zero was eventually defeated and thought to be destroyed along with the artefact, well only one of those things is true. He survived the encounter but the artefact was tethered from him, despite being destroyed a part of it remains to him and will be for the rest of his life. He’s currently in hiding and stuck in a horrible state of depression, a part of him even wondering if it would’ve been better if he wasn't here. His familiar is a moth, he recently found this one during his time hiding out and it’s the one companion he has during this time. It’s not his first familiar though, he had another one previously but he lost it, just as he lost his siblings.

Gadget Fortier- A clever and handy wolf man whose large, strong stature tends to surprise many. He was raised in a more rural town where mages are smaller in numbers. His parents run a repairing service that has them fixing all sorts of knick-knacks, Gadget took after them and has always enjoyed tinkering. Much to everyone's surprise, it turned out he had the ability to cast magic. He had a fitting talent for restoration/repair magic, being able to restore any sort of object to a brand new state; even if the damage was immense or pieces were missing. He still does enjoy the fix things the old-fashioned ways, however, out of habit and for enjoyment. His familiar is a bee, it loves to play around with a lot of the spare parts Gadget has lying around.

Shade Nocturne- A serious and rather eerie echidna woman who was raised in a large cult-like society that’s hidden from the world, as Cults are heavily outlawed. She was raised to learn the dark arts and has a talent for them, being knowledgeable about all the branches and especially being gifted at curse magic. Her cult leader, Ix, raised her almost like his own (as he had disposed of her own parents for getting in his way), moulding and shaping her into his finest apprentice and second-in-command. Shade always believed he was doing the best for her, even if it was sometimes.. questionable; little does she know that his need for control and power go to the point of putting a curse on her too. To make sure the risk of her becoming more powerful than him could be prevented. She was always curious about the world outside of her cult and wanted to learn more but Ix, being as controlling as he was, forbade any contact outside their society. She did sneak out behind her leader's back to discover more of the outside world and was careful in her endeavours and would eventually meet a few people that she would call her friends. The more time she spent away from the cult, the more she began to painfully realise that the cult she had been born into was... bad. All of Ix’s ideals were wrong, even discovering she herself had been cursed by him. It hurt to realise this but the truth and logic couldn’t be denied. Soon after this revelation, Ix was ready to destroy her and many of her new allies attempting to stop his dark plans. She found herself having no other option but to destroy the one father figure she had in her life, once breaking the curse he put on her she did so. She knew it was for the best to do but... it still hurts. All of it hurts. Since then shes’ still reluctant to use her power but one day hopes that maybe she can change the way people see her, her magic doesn't make her a vile, wicked person... right? Her familiar is a raven and had been a close companion of hers for a long time, albeit secretly as Ix would’ve destroyed her familiar if he ever found out about it.

Tikal Guardia- Legend has it, that long ago lived a young but powerful mage that came from the mysterious Guardia Clan, a girl named Tikal. Tikal’s spells were the stuff of legend, her skills specialising in Summoning/Conjuration magic. Being able to bring forth any creature or entity or if able to, even a person as she so pleased... and if necessary she could even banish them. Where? Who knows. A pocket dimension. Another world. A void of sorts. No one knew except her. According to legend, she has a mystical connection with a powerful deity that she could summon at will, this deity is simply known as Chaos. Because of this connection, she had a strange bond with the chaos and loved them ever so dearly and protected them the most. A true pacifist by nature, she made it her duty to protect the innocent and righteous and stop evil in its path; even if it meant turning on some of her own blood. Unfortunately, at one point she was forced to, her father and the leader of the Guardia Clan became power hungry and were planning attacks and the only thing she could do was summon Chaos to stop them. It was a devastating amount of destruction but it had to have been done as much as it pained her. No one knows if she still lingers today, whether as a spirit that hasn’t quite vanished or is somehow still secretly alive but hidden away. Her familiar was/is a manatee.

Marine Marlowe- An adventurous racoon girl that descends from Tanuki bloodlines. She currently travels across the sea while she continues her magical studies, it’s very rare for her to be in one spot for long but she always returns to the same spots where her friends reside. She’s very recently found her talents lie in rune magic, and while she hasn't learnt everything yet and is nowhere near being a master. She has the determination to learn as much as she can, what she’s learnt so far has definitely aided her on her oceanic adventures. She’s close friends with princess Blaze and frequently visits her and has a home in the Sol Kingdom.  Her familiar is an otter who’s as playful and mischievous as her.

Honey Chirimin- A bubbly young cat woman who’s a big fashionista. She’s had an interest in clothes and fashion for as long as she can remember; always loving to experiment with her clothes and dress up in all sorts of outfits! This seems to fit with her family’s history of tailoring businesses. Her magic specialises in creation magic, specifically in clothes and fashion. She can create and enchant all types of clothing items she creates for customers and folks. It’s a complicated process that took some time for her to perfect but her unique fashion line has made her famous despite her young age. She continues to come up with new ideas and outfits and will never stop! Her familiar is a spider that gives her quite a lot of inspiration.

Tiara Bobowski- a spunky young manx cat woman who has been Honey’s best and closest friend since they were young kittens. She has stuck by Honey’s side through all her endeavours and will continue to do so, serving as her assistant and helping her with whatever she needs, but her favourite thing to do is to be her photographer. Tiara tends to prefer her own company (with Honey as the exception) and explore herself and play around with hobbies, interests and even magic. Recently she’s discovered that she has a knack for inscription magic due to all this experimenting. Her familiar is an antelope who she loves to catch in action shots on her camera as it’s always on the move if not on her staff. 

[delimeful]

Helpless (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, spiders/arachnophobia, mild violence

-

Halfway through the woods, Patton heard the distinct sound of someone mumbling.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head to listen with a fair bit of curiosity. The mumbling was quiet enough that he couldn’t make out any individual words, but he could more or less tell which direction it was coming from.

Whatever the source was, they sounded a little frustrated.

He hesitated. Virgil was always emphasizing how careful Patton needed to be in the woods, though how much of that was due to actual danger and how much was the drider being a worrywart over Patton’s ‘chronic inability to defend himself’, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, this didn’t sound like a dangerous wild animal, so it would probably be okay to take a little detour and see what the matter was!

He followed the noise off the trail into a thick copse of trees, eventually coming upon intricate silvery threadwork that wound between them. He was proud to say he only barely shuddered as he ducked past them, his fear of spiders mostly overcome by his affection for his friend.

The webbing got thicker the further he went, and eventually he came upon the source of the mumbling, which appeared to be a whole person, stuck against the outer edge of one of Virgil’s larger webs.

They looked up upon spotting him, eyes bright for a moment before taking him in and visibly dulling with disappointment, which, aside from sorta hurting Patton’s feelings, seemed an odd response for someone in need of help.

“Hello there,” he greeted, waving. “My name’s Patton, I live over at the nearby town. You seem to be in a bit of a prestickament!”

“No, I did this myself,” the stranger corrected, already looking past Patton with disinterest. “It is an attempt to meet with someone I would like to speak with, and they seem the skittish sort, so I would appreciate it if you moved on.”

Patton hummed, more than a little confused. Something about this seemed familiar. “What are you going to do if this person doesn’t show up, though?”

“My arms are free,” they responded, frowning at Patton’s persistence as they wiggled the fingers of their free hand demonstrably. The other hand was occupied with a worn-looking journal. “I will be able to eat and drink, and thus am in no danger.”

“My friend says these woods can get mighty cold at night,” Patton countered, undeterred. “Can’t you meet your friend in town, instead? Why does it have to be a drider’s web?”

And, oh, that was it! Virgil had just been telling him the other day about someone who’d gotten stuck in one of his webs just like this, a mage who had been all-too-delighted to see him. Patton had hardly registered how they’d met, since he’d mostly been very upset to learn that some people would try to use his friend’s body parts as potions ingredients.

“That’s because the drider is the one I’m hoping to speak with,” the stranger replied, as though it should be obvious. “I sincerely doubt they would appreciate an invitation to town.”

Patton stared at the little notebook for a moment, and abruptly put the pieces together. This must have been the stranger that freaked Virgil out so badly!

And he was lying in wait in one of Virgil’s webs… In that case, there was no way he could leave things like this.

“I don’t think the drider is around,” he offered cheerily. “Sometimes they migrate to different areas for different seasons! You won’t meet anyone while hanging around, so I’ll help you down!”

He circled around the tree where most of the webs were rooted, approaching the stranger’s edge of webbing, and found to his surprise that they really were stuck. How they planned to ambush Virgil while stuck in a web, he wasn’t sure, especially since the gambit hadn’t worked on the first attempt either. Magic, maybe?

“How do you know that?” the stranger asked, craning to look at him with sudden interest. “About drider migration cycles.”

Patton shrugged as he plucked at the threads of the web, testing each one to see where they led. “I’m a good listener, so I pick things up here and there. What do you do?”

It seemed to be the right question to ask, since the stranger perked up, distracted from his inquiry.

“I am a researcher,” they informed Patton. “I’m seeking out information on the more reclusive creatures that live in these lands, like driders! This is the first one that I’ve met in person, so if they’re leaving, I need to catch up right away.”

Patton slid the sheath off of the little paring knife he’d taken to carrying and started sawing at one of the threads. “Are you going to try to capture him?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could. “You know, for your research.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” they replied indignantly. “The behavior of any being would be unnatural and stilted while imprisoned, especially a sapient one. My research is meant to increase humanity's understanding of driders, not to put them on display for entertainment.”

Patton blinked at them, slicing through another strand. “You��� aren’t looking to hurt them?”

“No!” They honestly sounded offended by the idea. “I don’t think I ever could, anyhow, the one I met was very large, and they would likely be able to incapacitate me without any trouble.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Patton asked, remembering the terror that had swept through him during that first encounter, when he’d thought the drider was a giant creepy crawly death dealer. Even after he realized, when Virgil yoinked him with his two front legs, Patton had been a little nervous.

“People are only scared of what they don’t understand,” they informed him, chin lifted stubbornly, “and I know more about driders than any other human. I don’t see any reason to be afraid.”

“Wow… You’re really passionate about this, huh?” Patton grinned as he sliced through the last of the support webbing, and with a few snaps, the researcher fell to the ground, only a few strands of silk clinging to them.

“Of course!” they replied, pausing to pull some of the softer webbing bits off of himself and folding them into a pocket of his bag. “The information compiled on them is often vague or outright misleading, and due to their reclusiveness and occasional aggression, nobody else has been able to correct these false accounts.”

They paused, studying the woods around them. “I am… uncertain on how I’m going to discern which area the drider has chosen to migrate to. I don’t suppose you have any idea?”

Patton patted their shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I think there’s a friend of mine you should meet properly.”

—

“Virgil!” Patton called brightly. “I’m here!”

He had been leading the way through increasingly dense and shadowy foliage for a fair while, now. Logan glanced up from their connected hands to see exactly where he was being pulled to, his heartbeat picking up in speed despite the possibility that this was a cruel prank or even a mugging.

Sure, Patton had described the drider that he’d met a couple of days ago quite accurately, but that was no assurance that he was actually familiar with the being. Most of the townsfolk seemed peripherally aware of ‘Virgil’’s presence, after all, so Patton could have glimpsed him before. It seemed more likely than them being friends. Driders were notoriously solitary, and ‘Virgil’ had seemed quite averse during Logan’s encounter with him, after all.

There was a crack from above, like a branch snapping.

In the next moment, a heavy weight had dropped down from above, knocking Logan to the ground and forcing all the air from his lungs. As he gasped futilely, he realized there were two hands pinning his arms to the ground, and some very familiar fangs put on full display, mere inches from his face.

“Leave him alone,” a very angry drider demanded, his regular voice layered with harsh, gravely rattling.

Logan wheezed in response, absently noting that there were multiple small black eyes visible against the dark marks under the more human set of eyes and wondering just how the two different ocular sensory organs overlapped.

“Virgil, stop!” Patton’s hands appeared at the edge of Logan’s vision, pushing back against Virgil’s shoulders until he eased up, lifting his crouched spider half up only slightly, as though prepared to lunge at Logan again at any moment. “He’s fine! He won’t hurt you!”

Virgil’s glare finally flicked away, though it turned more bewildered-angry than murderous-angry once landing on Patton. Logan wasn’t sure, but he thought the smaller eyes remained locked on him. “This is the mage I told you about! It’s not safe, you need to get out of here--,”

“Mage?” Logan asked, his voice still coming out a little winded. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not,” Patton said at nearly the same time, “I promise, he just wants to know more about you! Right, Logan?”

“I’m certainly not a mage,” he agreed, rubbing at his arm. The full force of a drider grabbing him… that was going to bruise. He wondered if there was a way to measure that power. “I’m not sure how you got that impression, I don’t have any of the tools mages often carry.”

Virgil looked back and forth between the two humans with clear consternation, and Patton was the one who answered. “Well, most people are afraid at just the sight of him. And… you weren’t.”

“Of course not,” Logan said, still trying to grasp the connection between his lack of fear and his alleged magehood. “I was enthralled. He’s very beautiful.”

Above him, Virgil made a choked-off noise and shuffled back, giving Logan space to sit up and regain full faculty of his senses. Virgil had turned his face away, and Patton was muffling a smile behind his hand.

“Was that… invasive?” Logan asked hesitantly, glancing between the two of them. “I apologize, this is my first research voyage, so I may have become... over-enthusiastic.”

Virgil flapped a hand at him, as though trying to physically dispel his words. “What exactly does a ‘research voyage’ entail?”

Logan straightened up, trying to look as professional as possible while still sitting on the forest floor. He suspected there might be detritus in his hair. “It’s a journey undertaken by apprentice-level researchers to expand their knowledge in their specific field. Often, once they have thorough evidence and a compelling thesis, they will return to their teacher and present this in order to advance as a journeyman.”

Of course, Logan had no intention of doing that. He was going to spend as long as he could traveling and learning and compiling his knowledge, until nobody could argue that he wasn’t suited to the world of scholars.

“And your field is… spiders? Monsters?” Virgil asked, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“I am attempting to correct the misconceptions that are so rampant in bestiaries,” Logan corrected. “So many depend on them, but I’ve found very few actually capture the intricacies of the cultures and habits of nonhuman magical beings. They read more like old wives’ tales, passed down and warped with time, and both the scientific community and the beings in question suffer for it.”

“Huh.” Virgil tilted his head slightly, and Logan realized that at some point his smaller eyes had closed, the dark creases vanishing amidst the pockets of shade under his eyes.

“That sounds like the bestiary way to help people!” Patton added, and Logan watched in disbelief as Virgil’s expression relaxed further, the drider snorting softly.

“So all I’d have to do is… be a drider in front of you?” he asked, one of his back legs tapping against the ground in a remarkable imitation of the way a nervous human might tap their foot. Logan nodded. “I guess… it could work. And it’d be nice to have someone else around who won’t scream at the sight of me.”

“New friend!” Patton cheered, looking perhaps more delighted at the idea than Logan’s presence really warranted. “Only the spidaring are cool enough to be friends with Virgil.”

“Is the wordplay going to be a regular thing with him?” Logan asked, his face pinching sourly.

“Better get used to it. He’s punstoppable,” Virgil replied, grinning toothily when Logan shot him a betrayed look. Logan thought he seemed pleased, going by the subtle twitching of his pointy ears.

Logan hid a small smile of his own. Perhaps following Patton wasn't the unwisest decision he'd ever made, after all.

[psalacanthea]

WiP Wednesday

I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to post this when it’s done >D  but here’s a bit of it anyways cuz why write if ppl aren’t going to see it?  Here’s a bit of DAO with a Surana who didn’t end up getting recruited to the Wardens.  I’ll tag @oxygenforthewicked and @kirkwallsdumbest and anyone else who would like to do it, I will tag you next time if you just let me know!

...

Being here in the oppressive, solitary darkness, she understood Anders all the more.  

He’d always been someone to look up to, to admire, even when the Enchanters scolded and shamed them for idolizing him.  But he was so kind to them when they’d been little, so funny, and he’d loved Karl so much…at the time, she’d thought such secretive, adoring devotion a romantic ideal.

But now she was captive to some perverted form of it.

And love, that distant forbidden delicious thing, had become a noxious curse that was rotting away the memory of who her captor had once been.

“Just say we can be together.”  The whisper in the dark was pleading, frustrated.  A voice sparking with emotion and buried anger, looking for something to ignite upon.  Tinder begging for her spark.  “Just say yes, and this can all be over.”

“Let me go,” she said for the thousandth time, voice cracking like ice on a river in spring.  Her throat was so dry.  

“I’ll keep them all away,” he said, voice full of pleading and barely-concealed anger.  Simmering under the surface, ready to strike her for stepping out of line.  Like all Templars.  Why had she thought he was different?  “Shy, please.  Shylana, I will keep you safe.  Every Templar, every mage, even the Maker himself, I will keep them from us.  Just say you love me.  Say you are mine.”

It wasn’t a request, it was a demand, viciousness spiking in the voice, cold and shattering as ice.

She wondered how long she had before she would be forced to defend herself.

“I am not,” she whispered, all the fight her broken heart could muster.

His fist cracked into the door, a visceral flinch curling her against the clammy back wall of the pitch cell, the sound overwhelming everything with her other senses so led astray.  She heard him breathing roughly, heard the pain in his voice.  She felt no sympathy.

The monster could have set her free, but he wouldn’t.

His love was poison.

[kradogsrats]

Hoi! 🙂 Any theories about why Kpp’Ar was able to move in his coin when Rayla looked at it, and what that is supposed to foreshadow?

We do see Runaan moving in his coin early on, which I think a lot of people forgot about when they saw Kpp'Ar do it:

and that is a different pose from where he has settled when the coins come into Rayla's possession:

It's actually very important from a storytelling communication standpoint that Runaan move when we first see him in the coin, because the audience needs that cue that he's alive and trapped. I bring this up because there are quite a few places where the "rules" of magic are bent or inconsistent in order to preserve storytelling impact or theme. This is particularly true of Viren's corrupted face appearing, but I'm sure there are others. Maybe we'll eventually get some piece of info that ties all of that together, but maybe we won't! Sometimes the answer is "what the story is trying to say is more important than the rules."

Anyway, there are kind of two questions at hand, here: 1) how is Kpp'Ar able to move in his coin? and 2) how is Kpp'Ar even able to perceive Rayla in order to move and look at her? I find the second question more interesting so I'll start there.

Possible scenarios:

Everyone in the coins has full perception of the world around them. Now, fifteen days of solitary confinement can be enough to do psychological damage. Add sensory deprivation on top of that, say being kept in a fucking pouch? Possibly for years? The same person is not coming out of that coin as went into it.

I mean, heck, maybe that's the answer: maybe everyone can move in the coins at any time, but once you've suffered enough psychological damage from the situation to go catatonic, you just kinda... don't.

Everyone in the coins has no perception of the world around them, being either in a state of stasis with no perception of time, to eventually wake up as if they are still at the moment of being trapped, or existing in some kind of weird dreamscape.

Some fudged option where they have full perception of the outside world but somehow this doesn't cause massive, irreversible trauma to Rayla's family. Realistically, I think this is the one we should probably expect.

So if we assume that you can't perceive the outside world with normal senses from inside the coin, how does Kpp'Ar know to turn and "look" when his coin is picked up? WELL, here is my theory: dark mages, as their corruption builds, become sensitive to both dark and primal magic. The coins themselves are at least partially inherently linked with dark magic, so sensing that isn't going to help much... but who picks up Kpp'Ar? Rayla, who has a natural connection to the magic of the Moon primal.

That is absolutely not going to be the actual answer and I'm just insane, but shut up let me have this.

As for why he is capable of moving... well, the easiest plausible explanation is that it's because he's also a dark mage and having the right kind of knowledge or strength lets you struggle a bit better. I assume since we see Runaan moving early on but not later, the magic kind of slowly solidifies.

Alternately, if we want to get just a little bit wild: in his dream, Viren asks Kpp'Ar what's wrong with his arm. Now, Viren reacts with surprise to Kpp'Ar's presence in what I will remind everyone is Viren's own secret study, right where his coin is stashed. How is he there? Did he somehow get out? But the implication is that Kpp'Ar wasn't like that when Viren put him in the coin. So if we theorize that actually, the people in the coins occupy a weird little personal prison Aaravos-style... well, someone's been busy.

Relevant:

There's also the fact that the symbol on the back of the coins is very reminiscent of the deep magic symbol (which might be worth its own post at some point, because they are not the same but also too similar to be unrelated), and given the provenance of the staff, there may be something deeper going on there, magic-wise.

[aarongoldenwrites]

I have some thoughts and additions. 

Adaar washes when they can. When they meet the Bull and especially Vivienne, they begin to wash more frequently. If Adaar romances Sera, Sera joins them whenever possible. 

Alistair likes to wash, he just forgets. If you remind him, he stammers and gets embarrassed. Although she will never admit it to anyone, Morrigan starts using magic to wash him without him knowing, especially if he is part of the dark ritual.  

Amell and Surana (Warden) likes bathing because it’s the only time they can be reasonably sure that the Templars will leave them alone. 

Anders is a successful medic working out of the dirtiest places in the world while also having been locked away in solitary confinement for a good chunk of time. Dude is probably *obsessively* clean, like all the time. 

The Architect is fascinated by bathing practices but does not, himself, partake. 

Bethany likely does her best to wash the magic off her, and is always a little disappointed when it doesn’t work. 

Blackwall begins bathing regularly once his secret is out. He punished himself with his stench. Punishing everyone around him was an unintended consequence. 

Carver’s got a typo that I kind of love: I really like the idea that he’ll just keep washing his hands until you tell him to stop. He stares at people when he washes his hands, too. He does it specifically to annoy Bethany. 

Cousland washes every chance they get, and will demand the same of their lover if they take one.     

Dorian is a big user of essential oils because they smell nice and make him feel pretty. Vivienne is initially put off by his Tevinter scents, but the two of them end up talking about (a) where to get or buy the most subtle perfumes and (b) how to use them on Solas without him noticing. For his part, Solas likes bathing when he has the chance to relax (he uses magic to keep himself clean), but none of the scents he was used to exist anymore and he doesn’t know how to tell anyone that. The first time Josie finds something really old and he recognizes it, he cries. No one ever knows why. None of the Inquisition mages believe the oils do anything other than smell nice. 

Hawke likes to wash to get the blood off. Even Aveline can only do so much to keep them from being arrested when they walk everywhere covered in other people’s entrails. Sandal has an enchantment created specifically to unclog Hawke’s drains. Hawke does not know this, but, if Anders is romanced, Anders does and quietly pays to have a similar enchantment added to his clinic.   

Isabella loves to bathe in streams and rivers, and does so whenever possible. She eventually gets Fenris to come along, and he learns to love it.   

Leliana is obsessively clean. 

Lavallen, Merrill, Mahariel, and Velanna are all clean people. One thing about the Dalish camps we see: they are all neat and organized, and tribal peoples tend to be pretty big on cleanliness and hygiene. They probably know more about keeping clean than any of the city folk. 

Meredith is fastidiously clean. She needs to wipe the disease of magic off her in the morning and the evening. She’s more of a shower person than a bath person, and while she uses deodorant she never uses perfume.

Morrigan smells nice because she knows exactly what herbs to combine to give her unique and subtle scents and uses magic to wash the dirt from her body (it’s a trick Flemeth taught her). It drives Vivienne insane because she does not have the skill. Dorian trades her candy for small samples that he utterly fails to reverse engineer. Josie and Leliana get their hands on Dorian’s stash and manage to make reasonable copies. 

The Mother does not bathe. 

Nathaniel Howe is used to washing every day and feels dirty when he doesn’t. The first thing he does if you let him out of prison is have a bath. 

Oghren doesn’t really bathe, but that’s not representative of the dwarves as a people: they need to be cautious of darkspawn taint and lyrium poisoning, so they’re probably pretty clean as a people. It’s the one thing Varric actually likes about Orzammar, is the common use of soap and plumbing. This applies to Cadash, Brosca, Aeducan, Sigrun, Harding... pretty much everyone but Oghren.   

Samson was probably as clean as any of the Templars but stopped being clean when he became homeless and stopped caring when he became a red templar. None of the red templars wash; the Inquisition’s forces can smell them from a mile off, which makes tracking them easier.

Tabris would love to wash more often.  

Zevren loves to bathe, but hates to bathe alone. Perhaps you will keep him company...? 

[lesetoilesfous]

Writing prompt: “You’re trembling.” for Fenders please! <3

Ah thank you!! <3 I hope you enjoy!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Isabela, Marian Hawke

Tags: past trauma, reference to past abuse, very oblique reference to past sexual abuse, flashbacks, panic attacks, Anders and Fenris get shoved down a well by templars and Anders gets flashbacks

Rating: Mature

“Think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you mage?” Ser Karras’ voice is sneering, and it bounces against the walls of the well down which he and his men had shoved both Anders and Fenris as he looms over the one remaining point of light far above them. “Some of my boys transferred from Kinloch. Felt like their knight commander had gone soft. Letting scum like you give them the run around. So I’m sure you’ll remember this.”

There’s a thunder clap of sound as Karras drops the heavy wooden cover over the well, and suddenly the light goes out. Anders screams, hurling himself against the cold, long since dried stone of this forgotten well in the foothills of Sundermount. It does nothing. He doesn’t care. He throws himself against the stone again and again until his knuckles are splitting and bloody and his whole body is aching with the bruising force of it. 

When gauntleted hands land on Anders’ shoulders he recoils, falling back against the stone, feet skidding in the dust. The magebane is slowing his reactions, like alcohol without the warmth, and he can feels his emotions and his connection to Justice like a distant memory. Now there is only him, and the figure (Templar) in the dark with the steel hands. Anders turns away from it, feeling tears running hot and stinging down his cheeks as he tears at the stone until his nails split.

“LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT!” Anders screams until his voice hurts, beating his bloody hands against the stone, blinking against the dizzying darkness. Again, gauntleted hands catch in his clothes, firmer this time. Anders sobs, half heartedly pushing them away. The hands move, turning him, and Anders cowers. It was always worse when they wanted to kiss him. 

He waits, shivering, for whatever the templar is going to do next. But nothing happens, and after a moment the throbbing pain of hands and arms begins to make itself insistently known at the front of his mind. Slowly, Anders forces himself to open his eyes, and they immediately burn at the sudden presence of light. He blinks the tears out of his vision and stares at the weaving, starlight patterns of lyrium in this person’s skin. Not a templar, then. Finally, Anders forces himself to look up, shaking, into a face he recognises. 

Fenris is frowning at him. “You’re trembling.”

Anders tries to laugh, but manages only a wet sob. “Yeah, well.” He’s shivering so hard he feels like he could fall over. He remembers being this cold once (twice) before, when he was a child and one of the warming spells in the Circle had failed. All of the apprentices had climbed into each others’ beds to stay warm. They’d still lost three to the chill. One of them was six. 

Fenris’ hands are still tight on Anders’ shoulders, and Anders doesn’t know how to explain that he needs them not to be. So instead he stands, and shakes. After a moment, Fenris huffs and pushes him to sit. Anders folds instinctively to his knees, and at that at last Fenris looks even more troubled, letting him go as if he’d been burned. Anders tries not to let his relief show, though he suspects by the expression on Fenris’ face that it does, anyway. 

The well smells of old silt and dry stone, and it is at least an improvement on - Anders’ mind skitters away from the recollection. He cannot let himself go back there. The light of Fenris’ tattoos is barely keeping him in the present, and without Justice to help stabilise his sanity (an irony he would laugh at later), Anders has no intention of tempting fate.

After a long moment of heavy silence, Fenris says, softly, “Hawke will come.” He sounds certain of it. Anders tries to believe him. Fenris goes on, firmly, “She will notice that we are missing. So will Isabela. Neither of them are as foolhardy as they like to pretend.”

Anders hums. He can, at least, concede that. He’s shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. Fenris looks at him. His hair is silver in the reflected light of his tattoos, giving him a faint misty white halo like the moon in the dark. “That man - Karras - he mentioned Kinloch. This is the Circle you were raised in?”

Anders bites the inside of his cheek so hard it hurts and stares at the light of the tattoos on Fenris’ hands. “Unless you want me to go full on actual abomination, I suggest that we don’t go there.” Then he laughs, manic, suddenly, with fear, as he pulls at his hair and leans between his bent knees, back pressed against the stone of the well. “What am I saying. You’d love that. Yes, Fenris, he mentioned Kinloch Hold. Why?” Anders’ thoughts keep scattering from his grasp like frightened halla. He feels anxiety and rage and fear rolling through his body in great crashing waves of emotion. He can’t stop shaking, though he pulls hard on his hair in an effort to make his hands still. 

Fenris is quiet for a long while, and Anders nearly regrets snapping at him - nearly offers him anything, if only he’ll break the silence again. But then Fenris does, and Anders tries not to wreep with the relief of it. “I would help you, if I may. You do not look well.”

Anders laughs, and again the sound is a manic thing that ricochets against the walls of the well, invisible under the velvet weight of deep shadow. “I’m fine.” Anders taps his forehead, “It’s the brain that’s broken. Not the body.” He pauses, examining his bloody, bruised hands and arms with a clinical eye. “Well. Not much.”

“Would it help to ask what happened?” 

Anders can almost feel the weight of Fenris’ effort at patience, and he laughs again, feeling it bubble like fizzing alcohol on his tongue. “You don’t have to be nice to me, you know. Void, do whatever you want. If you stay lit up like that and don’t go quiet, I’ll do anything you say.” Anders hates how much he means it, and the frayed edge of desperation that bleeds into the words.

Fenris, for his part, turns a faint shade of green, and shakes his head. “Are you cold?”

It is cold, down here, thanks to the shadow and the depth. Anders shakes his head before Fenris touches him, the backs of his fingers resting against Anders’ forehead like a nurse’s. After a moment Fenris huffs and moves closer, shoulder pressing against Anders’. The steel of his armour presses into Anders’ skin, and Anders’ mind whirls with a disorienting jigsaw of memories. “Is this alright?” Fenris asks, gruffly.

“Armour.” Anders manages, tightly, and tries to ignore the weight of Fenris’ eyes on him for a long moment before the elf briskly, methodically strips out of his armour, even pausing to remove the gauntlets. When he returns to Anders, the warm curve of his bicep is interrupted only by the fabric of his shirt, and Anders’ body falls heavily against him despite his conscious mind. 

Fenris seems surprised by that, too, because he lets out a small exhalation of air before moving to embrace him, carefully, strong arms wrapping around him and letting him rest against his muscular chest. Anders lets Fenris hold him, and feels, abruptly, utterly exhausted as the tension bleeds out of his body. It’s not dark. He’s not alone. There are no templars. Another beat of silence passes, in which Anders’ racing heart continues to slow to something resembling a regular pace. And then Fenris starts to hum.

Anders doesn’t recognise the tune at first. Fenris’ voice is so low his hum is more of a rumble, that sweetens into a melody the longer Anders listens. Anders feels his shoulders relaxing. Blindly, he reaches out for Fenris’ hand, winding their fingers together. To his faint surprise, Fenris lets him, and the lyrium tingles against his skin where it burns. Anders’ eyelids get heavier, and he feels himself slump further. Fenris’ voice is soft by his head when he speaks. “Sleep, mage. No harm will come to you here.”

Anders wants to say he doesn’t believe him. But the words get lost somewhere on his tongue, and then he’s falling into the darkness behind his eyes, and the dizzying worlds of the Fade.

*

“-ders! Fenris!” Anders wakes up with a headache. The first thing he notices is that his hands and arms are burning with a blistering, chafing pain. The second thing he notices is that he’s asleep on someone, who’s snoring gently. Or, at least, who was - Fenris wakes as quickly as Anders does, and moves him with hurried and surprising tenderness as he gets to his feet, shouting up to a blood-splattered Hawke. 

“Hawke! We’re here!”

A moment later, a rope falls with a whip crack down into the well. Anders stares at it, and Fenris gestures him forwards. Anders can’t find the words to thank him for that, instead he curls his screaming knuckles around the rope and begins to climb. After far too long (he suspects he has fractured at least one bone), Anders feels fresh air on his skin, and then Hawke and Isabela’s hands are on him, and he’s being bundled into a warm, soft, curving body as Isabela hugs him so tightly it hurts. Behind them, Anders is distantly aware of Fenris climbing the rope too, but he’s distracted by Isabela squeezing him breathless and pressing kisses into his hair.

“Void, kitten, I’m so sorry. I swear, I’ll never let that happen to you again. Ever. I swear it.” Isabela’s hands are tight on him, and Anders realises abruptly that perhaps she had learned about his year in solitary after all. He doesn’t know what to think about that, but Isabela’s warm, muscular arms tight around his body are a welcome relief, and he doesn’t try to pull away. At least, until he hears the low rumble of Fenris’ voice behind him, and he pulls back a little from Isabela (her arm is still hooked tightly around his waist), to look over at the elf.

For a long moment, Anders’ tongue is tied. The wind howls over the heather on Sundermount, whistling around the mossy green cliffs of the mountain. Fenris’ hair pulls against his head, white as feathers, and his eyes are bruised with sleeplessness. Anders wonders how much effort he had spent, keeping his brands lit through the night. Finally, he finds his voice, “Fenris. Thank you.”

Fenris looks at him for a long moment. Then he ducks his head, and waves him off, turning away. “It was nothing, mage. You would have done the same for me.”

Anders isn’t sure he would have. But he thinks, as he watches Hawke and Fenris stride down the grassy slope to the templars’ bodies in the ruins of their campsite, he would do it, now. He will.

[quickspinner]

The Magic of You - Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

Wandering the forest in search of a place with strong magical energy, Luka finds exactly what he needs--only someone else claims this particular spot, and she's rather shy. When Luka finally does meet her face to face, well...he's got a problem.

Marinette is content in her own little territory, until a human minstrel-mage wanders into it. She's not especially happy about it at first, but the more she watches him, the more she thinks maybe he's not that bad.

Warning for blood and injuries, and there will be some implied sexual content in Part 2.

Written for @bloody-no-kissu. Love you friend!

It was, at least, a lovely day for a walk, Luka thought as he wandered through the forest. He touched the pouch at his belt absently, though in this quiet part of the forest he could hear the crystals within clicking softly together as he walked, so he knew he hadn’t lost it. It was a habit, born of one too many incidents where he had to backtrack to find where it had slipped from his belt. 

He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the strap of his instrument, and kept walking, listening as he went. It shouldn’t be too hard to find what he needed here; it was early summer, and the growing things were full of life. Luka was picky, though; it was part of what made his wares so highly sought. He’d know when he found the right place, and so he listened, as he walked, and let his intuition lead him. 

A little before noon, he reached a clearing through the trees—more than a clearing, a wide meadow, ringed by the forest trees but covered in grass and flowers. There was a gap in the trees on one side, and a cliff edge beyond where the land dropped away sharply, as if there had been a landslide here sometime in the distant past. Luka emerged into the meadow slowly, head cocked slightly as he listened. 

The earth was strong here, and it was a beautiful place even just on aesthetic level, dotted with flowers in clumps and groups—almost like a garden. Perhaps he had stumbled on the sanctuary of some magical creature of the forest? If so, he was grateful for their work. It was lovely.

It was dotted with large rocks, but one in particular drew him. It was largely flat, but slanted up on one side, and unusually smooth. Luka ran his hand over it thoughtfully. For a rock, it looked like it would make a comfortable seat, and reminded him in fact of the one-armed sofas he sometimes saw in ladies’ parlors. It didn’t look man-made, and didn’t have the feeling of a fey circle, but...Luka looked around the meadow again, and shrugged. Perhaps this was a tended place, but there was no one here now, and he saw none of the markers of ownership that he recognized. 

Well, he could protect himself well enough if someone returned and took offense. Right now, this was perfect for his purposes. He took his gittern from his back and set it down carefully. Then he knelt and drew a crystal from his pouch. He put it down in the moss, making sure it had contact with the earth beneath, and then reclined on the rock, stretching his legs along the length and leaning back against the raised side. Not exactly a lady’s divan, but certainly a more comfortable seat than he often found.

Luka reached and picked up his gittern from where he had set it, and strummed the strings softly, adjusting the tuning. When he was satisfied, he silenced the strings, and closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing, taking in the sounds around him, and centering himself in the rock beneath him and the earth beneath that. 

Then he began to play. First, the key tune that helped him fall into trance, and then, as the song of the earth swelled in his soul, he blended his tune with it. It was beautiful here, in this place, full of creation power. He played, separating the tones, the energies, he needed from the larger song, and drawing them up into the crystal resting on the ground, where they swirled lazily, unbothered by their captivity. Good. This place was good, its energies healthy and content, and willing to be coaxed into his keeping. The earth gave up its surplus without complaint, and he smiled. 

He continued playing, even after the crystal was fully charged, just for the sheer joy of it, and the beauty of the earth’s song in this place. 

Gradually, Luka became aware that he was no longer alone, and he opened his eyes. The meadow still seemed empty and still, but there was a new note in the song, and he tilted his head slightly as he listened to it, played alongside it for a time. It clearly belonged here; it meshed seamlessly with the song of this place, and added a richness to the song that Luka hadn’t realized was missing. It was lovely, and it didn’t seem hostile, only...curious. Possibly a little annoyed, a little afraid, but mostly intrigued. Perhaps this was its place, then, where he was intruding. 

“I mean you no harm,” Luka spoke softly, still playing. “It’s only that this place was so lovely, I had to stop here.” 

There was no answer, though surprise trilled at the edges of the song, tainted with a jangle of alarm, and...embarrassment?” That amused him and the corners of his mouth tilted up a little further. 

“You’re welcome to join me, or just stay and listen if you like,” Luka suggested, and closed his eyes again. He fell back into the earth’s song, resisting the temptation to probe the new melody any further. Whatever creature it belonged to, they were intelligent and emotionally aware, so he would respect their privacy unless he sensed malevolent intent. 

It was a lovely melody, though. Perhaps, if the being it belonged to lived nearby, one day they would show themselves, and he could learn more of them. For now, though, he’d best keep his mind to his work. He paused his playing long enough to slip a handful of crystals from his pouch, and lined them up on the ground below his rock seat. Then he sat back, and began to play again, beginning the slow process of charging the crystals. 

***

Marinette had been annoyed at first at finding her territory invaded and even her favorite sunning stone occupied, but the music the human mage made was so beautiful, that her frustration was short-lived. She understood the basics of human magic, but she’d never seen anyone use music to channel it before. She wasn’t upset when he returned a few days later, and came regularly every few days after that. Marinette stayed out of sight, hiding her nature from him, but he always seemed to know she was there, so she didn’t bother with much else in the way of stealth. He always sensed her, but never sought her out. He sometimes spoke to her, inviting her indirectly to show herself to him, but Marinette neither spoke nor ventured out of the shelter of the trees. She didn’t want to frighten him away, and she didn’t want to bring danger on herself. He was human, and a mage, and though she sensed no ill intent from him, it was only prudent to take precautions. 

He always brought a pouch full of crystals of different kinds. Marinette knew that human mages used crystals charged with nature magic to boost their own power, and she could see, or rather... sense, with an unconscious awareness intrinsic to her own magical nature, that he was pulling earth power from her meadow into the crystals. At first she couldn’t imagine why he needed so many, but eventually it occurred to her that this was perhaps how he made his living. That thought was distasteful at first, but he was so careful in the way he siphoned the power of her meadow, so attentive to the balance and never taking too much at once, that she began to reconsider. Better a man like this one, skilled and careful, should take the power and sell it, than clumsy, inattentive, careless mages tear it thoughtlessly from the earth. And he must, after all, find means to live somehow—Marinette herself made trade goods to secure the things she couldn’t make or hunt on her own—and there were many worse professions he could have chosen. 

Marinette had no magic beyond the inherent abilities of her kind, which were largely passive, and she had no use for the energy he took, which replenished itself before his next visit anyway, so she didn’t mind what some creatures might have seen as theft. He was polite and respectful, and paid her in music...and as she became accustomed to his presence, she began to feel he paid her in company as well. She wasn’t sure how someone she had never spoken to could feel like a friend, but she began to realize that her once-perfect meadow felt lonely when he didn’t come. The days when she found a warm, sunny spot in the trees and worked on her embroidery or jewelry while listening to his music began to be be dearer to her than the days when she lounged on her sunning rock in peaceful solitude, staring idly over her empty domain. She hadn’t thought she was bothered by her largely solitary life, being in the stage of her life where it was natural for her to distance herself from the family den, but his presence became welcome as it became familiar. 

As time passed she drew nearer, even slithering up a tree one day to watch him from the branches. She couldn’t venture out too far without being seen—or breaking the branch she rested on—but it gave her a slightly better view of him, his dark hair and angular features and soft eyes with their round human pupils that made him look perpetually surprised or—she blushed a little. He was handsome from the waist up, well-built and cleaner than the human traders she sometimes met with. 

And his legs weren’t... repulsive. They were muscular enough at least, in their own way, though without the sinuous grace and sleek lines of a naga’s tail. 

I’ve been without company too long, she thought with some amusement as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. Well, this was also the time of life where she was meant to seek and take a mate, so it wasn’t so unnatural for her to be considering every angle, even if it was idle. She touched the tip of her long tongue to one fang and wondered what he would think of her, if he knew her. Probably whether or not she was beddable would be the last thing on his mind, she thought ruefully, idly scratching a chunk of bark off the tree with one long claw. 

Well, she could still think he was handsome, and if he had been a naga, she would have certainly introduced herself a long time ago. 

 ***

“These are good, Lu,” Juleka said, as he lined the crystals up on the counter in front of her. 

“I found a new spot,” Luka confessed, shaking the last few out of his pouch onto the cloth she’d put out to catch them. She had one in her hand, examining it. “I think some kind of parasite infected the trees at the birch grove, and it needs all its energy to purge the infection, so I figured I’d go looking elsewhere. The new place is strong and someone tends to it, so the energy is more ordered there and easier to work with.” He shrugged as Juleka looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I know, I can’t explain it very well, it’s just how it feels to me.”

“You’re the expert,” Juleka murmured, picking up another crystal. “I think these might fetch a higher price than what we’ve been asking.”

Luka nodded. “Just pay me the usual for now, and if you are able to get more, we can work out the split then.” He smiled at Rose as she brought him a box of fresh, or freshly exhausted, crystals. “Thanks.”  

“Are you being safe, Luka?” Juleka asked suddenly, and both Luka and Rose looked at her.

“Of course,” Luka smiled, and reached over the counter to ruffle her hair. “I wouldn’t make you guys worry over me. It’d taint the spells.” 

Juleka batted his hands away and rolled her eyes, smoothing her long hair back. “It’s just, you said this place is tended. You’d better not be getting on the wrong side of a fey just for stupid power crystals.” 

Luka shook her head. “She’s not fey.”

Both girls raised their eyebrows. “She?” they said in unison, and Luka snorted.

“She’s never shown herself, so I don’t know for sure, but I can sense her lingering nearby. The song feels female to me, so I think of her as a she.” Luka shrugged. “I’ve never sensed anything angry or hostile from her. If she doesn’t like what I’m doing, I assume she’d let me know somehow.” 

Juleka rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you don’t accidentally propose to some smitten fairy or something.” 

Luka laughed, and tilted his head towards Rose, who had wandered back to the corner of the shop she rented from Juleka, and was puttering around arranging her wares while she hummed. She looked very much like a true pixie in that moment with the sun streaming through the windows, gleaming on her golden hair and shining through her pink gauze dress. “I think that’s more likely to happen to you than me.” 

Juleka flushed deeply, dipping her head forward so her hair covered her face. “Get out of here,” she muttered. Luka chuckled, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“Love you too, sis,” he winked, before taking his box and making a quick exit, lest Juleka decide to retaliate. 

***

This was a stupid idea, Marinette told herself, but she laid her small package on the rock and quickly hid in the trees. She needn’t have rushed; she was early and she had to frighten away more than one greedy crow before the man made his appearance. It was a stupid idea, and a stupid gift, Marinette scolded herself. It was stupid to give him a gift at all, but she could at least have come up with something better. She sharpened her claws on the dead log she leaned on in frustration as she fretted. It had been a whim, really, to save him a piece of her weekly baking, to leave an offering to thank him for his beautiful songs and his care for the magic of her meadow, but perhaps— 

He stepped out of the trees at the far end of the meadow, and Marinette gasped. It was too late now; she wouldn’t be able to retrieve the gift without being seen, and he was already heading straight towards the rock. 

Marinette slapped a hand over her mouth to keep back the agonized moan that wanted to burst out when he saw the gift and stilled, looking around. For a moment he stood and looked at it, and Marinette ducked her head into her arms. She couldn’t stop watching for long, though, so she peeked out again to see he had untied the package and was now sitting pensively looking at the little loaf of bread she had wrapped in the cloth. After a moment, he took his gittern from his back and prepared to play it. He began with that same tune he always used, like a keyword, she supposed, for the trance he entered to work his magic. Then he played a tune that resonated, not with the earth below her as usual, but against her own being. It made her gasp slightly.  

“Hello friend,” he said in his soft way, with a slight smile. “You seem to have left something behind today. I assume this is yours.” 

Marinette whined softly. How was she supposed to let him know that she’d meant it for him, in thanks for his music?

His head tilted slightly, and he smiled a little more. “A gift? For me? 

For a moment she was stunned. He wasn’t reading her mind, was he? Panic bubbled up.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said quickly. “I will stop if you wish. I only wanted to understand your intentions, and this way you don’t have to speak to me if you don’t want. I’m only…” he hesitated, forehead creasing slightly. “It’s hard to explain, but I can only sense your emotions.” He smiled slightly. “I’m an empath, not a mind reader, and I have to be in at least a light trance to get anything clear.” 

Her fear eased, at that. Empath...that meant feelings, right? She tried to concentrate on gratitude and welcome, and hoped he couldn’t feel her embarrassment too clearly.

His smile widened into something pleased and genuine, rather than the polite expression he’d mostly warm up until now. “Thank you, but...won’t you come out and share it with me?” 

No! She thought desperately. I’m not ready. 

He rocked slightly on his feet. “Do I frighten you so much?” he asked, his tone slightly mournful. 

No, she didn’t fear him, not really. Only...she just wasn’t ready. 

“As you wish,” he sighed, and the touch of his power withdrew as his song faded. He sat down on her rock, and picked up the little loaf of bread and the cloth and set it on his lap. He ate it, slowly and deliberately. “It’s very good,” he said, and Marinette was glad he wasn’t ‘listening’ to her, or whatever he did that let him sense her when he played. She didn’t want him to hear the pleased squeal she was trying to muffle. 

He ate half of the bread, and then took a cloth of his own out of his pack and wrapped up the rest. He put it bread in his pack, and took out his usual handful of crystals, laying them in a line on the ground as he always did. He picked up her cloth, shook the crumbs off of it, and folded it neatly before setting it out of his way. Then he took his usual place, lounging on her sunning rock almost like one of her own kind, and began to play. 

Marinette smiled, and her tight coils relaxed. She circled into a looser, more comfortable arrangement, and rested her arms on her body, picking idly at a bit of shed skin clinging to her pink scales and trying to contain her smile. 

To her delight, he stayed that day even beyond the time it took him to fill his crystals, and began playing something she’d never heard before. Not magic, she realized. It didn’t have the... resonance of the music he played to channel his magic, but it was lovely anyway. The thought that he was playing now solely for her pleasure brought a flush to her cheeks. She smiled, and felt the pressure of her fangs on her lower lip. Her smile dimmed slightly, as she brought a hand to cover her mouth. What kind of thoughts was she entertaining, anyway? He’d certainly be terrified if she showed herself to him, no matter how calm and accepting he seemed now. He surely had to know she wasn’t human or outright fey, but that still left many possibilities, quite a few less dangerous than she. He was soft and unarmored and she had claws and fangs and could easily crush the life out of him without using either. And anyway, what kind of reasoning was he seemed nice for revealing herself unnecessarily to a human—a human mage at that—this close to her lair? 

Not that she had any specific fears, really, it just...seemed unwise. There wasn’t any particular animosity between the two species, it was just that generally humans were annoying and more trouble than they were worth. 

No, better to keep things like this.

But...if he would play for her after a simple loaf of bread, then perhaps she ought to leave more offerings, and see if he would play more of his own music for her. Just...little things, and maybe not every time, but…she would try it, she decided. Her simple little offering clearly made him happy, and she liked that he was happy. She wanted him to keep coming back.

***

Luka was growing more and more intrigued about his mysterious host. She—he was growing more certain it was a she, if her species recognized gender at all—was the keeper of this little meadow, he was sure, but she seemed unbothered by his intrusion, and even grateful for his presence. 

Luka, in turn, was grateful, for of all the places he visited regularly this one was by far the most pleasant to spend time in and the easiest to draw from. It was tempting to come more often, but he didn’t want to overstrain the place or overstep his welcome with his shy observer. 

He was a little embarrassed by the gifts she left him, because to his mind if anyone owed anything, it was he that owed her for not driving him out of her territory, but he was also grateful and flattered that she enjoyed his music so much. He tried to respect her privacy and her desire to remain anonymous, but it was growing harder by the day, his awareness of her song growing as they spent more time together—if you could call it that. 

He wanted so much to meet her, but Luka had no choice but to be patient and wait for her to decide she wanted to meet him. 

***

He was early. Marinette had to dive into the trees when she sensed him coming. She could move quicker than sight when she had to, despite her size, and so she made it under cover before he could catch sight of her. Panting slightly from the fright, Marinette leaned on a tree to watch him, peeping through the leaves.

Something about the way he strode into the meadow bothered her. There was a...tightness about him she couldn’t quite describe, and while he didn’t stomp, he was not stepping as lightly as she was accustomed to seeing. 

He seemed restless, too. He didn’t sit on her rock and play. He picked up the little cake she had left for him, but merely set it down again, dropped his pack and his instrument in a pile next to the rock, and walked restlessly around the meadow.

Marinette drew back in alarm when he passed close to the trees concealing her, but he passed her without even looking in her direction, clearly agitated. Frowning, Marinette followed him at a safe distance, keeping hidden in the trees. The minstrel mage passed the ring of trees that marked the edge of her meadow and over to the cliff beyond, where he stood, looking pensively out over the forest below. 

He shouldn’t walk so close to the cliff, Marinette fretted as she watched from the edge of the trees. It was hard to tell from this side but that overhang wasn’t as sturdy as it looked, and it had rained only a few days ago— 

Even as she thought it, she felt the vibration in the earth, and heard the grinding of earth and loose rocks.

She didn’t even think. She just moved.

***

It all happened so fast that it was over before Luka understood what was happening. There was a rumble and a rush and he was falling, and then excruciating pain in his arm that tore a scream of agony from his throat. 

There was a rush of earth past him, below him, and his legs were dangling in midair; he was dangling, hanging only by the arm that hurt so very, very much. Luka looked up—and for a moment he forgot everything else in his shock. Everything else that happened was a blur, but he would remember the face above him for the rest of his life, he was sure. A woman’s face, pale with fear, fangs peeking from parted lips and blue, slit-pupiled eyes wide and staring. Midnight blue hair tumbled forward over strong shoulders, and one clawed hand gripped the edge of the cliff. 

The other, he realized, was the source of the pain in his arm. Understanding came to him; the cliff had given way beneath him and this woman—creature— being had stopped him from falling, but her long claws had plunged into his wrist. Blood streamed down his arm and dripped on the rocks below. Luka gasped as he looked down. His good hand scrabbled at the cliffside, but he had no claws to grip with, and his fingers crumbled the earth and slid off the rock where he grabbed at it. He kicked his feet, but that made his savior yelp, increased the pain in his arm, and he didn’t find any purchase, so he stilled, gasping and dizzy from the pain.  

Luka cried out in pain and surprise when the grip on his wrist tightened, but he bit down on it as he looked back up. Above him, his rescuer shifted her body a little more, bracing her free arm on an intact part of the cliff, and then heaved, pulling back from the cliff edge and dragging Luka along with her.

It hurt—oh, it hurt, so much that his vision went black for a moment—but Luka was enough in possession of his senses now to realize that he was dangling over a drop that would surely kill him, so he muffled his cries as best he could, and tried not to thrash too much. 

It felt like an eternity before she pulled him up high enough that he could see over the cliff and grab (uselessly) at the grassy top. He almost slipped off again in surprise when he got a full look at his savior. It had been obvious even in his confused state that she was not human, but he was unprepared to find that somewhere around her waist, her human torso tapered into the body of a gigantic serpent. Naga, some part of his brain supplied. No, female, so...nagi. 

She pulled him up a little farther, and when his shoulders had cleared the top of the cliff, she curled a loop of her tail—body? Around in front of him. “Hold on to me,” she told him, indicating that he should wrap his arms around her serpent body. He did so, clumsily and not very effectively with his wounded arm, but it was enough to keep him secure while she leaned down over the cliff edge again and grabbed his belt on either side of his waist with both hands, using it to haul him the rest of the way over the cliff.

That was not particularly comfortable either, but preferable to more claws in his flesh, and regardless, he was back on solid ground. He crawled on his elbows a little father from the cliff edge and collapsed, panting. After a moment he rolled on his side to look at the nagi. 

She was panting too, and her slit pupils had so blown wide they were almost round in her frightened face. Her expression was stricken as she stared at his blood on her hand, painting the long claws that had pierced his flesh. 

Luka rolled over and got to his knees. It made him dizzy—he’d probably lost a lot of blood. He put his undamaged hand quickly over the wound and began to sing, his voice quick and tight with pain but true. The undamaged hand glowed, and so did the wound. His savior shifted beside him, but Luka had no attention to spare for anything but the healing; it was not a magic that came easily to him, and it was difficult enough to concentrate past the pain and the fear of losing the use of his hand. 

It took longer than it would have taken his sister, but he was able to complete the healing, and when he flexed his hand he found that he had full motion and sensation. He still felt weak and shaky with blood loss and reaction, but all of that would pass. Luka breathed a sigh of relief and turned a smile up at the being who had saved his life. 

“Thank you,” he said warmly. 

She made a distressed sound, still holding her bloodstained hand out as if it didn’t belong to her.  

Luka wrapped his now-healed but still bloody fingers gently around hers. “A broken neck would have been much harder to fix,” he told her gently. “And so I thank you. I had rather lose the use of my hand than my life.” He smiled, tilting his head a little to look up into her face. “And as I have lost neither, there is no need for guilt or grief.” He unhooked his waterskin from his belt, and pulled out the stopper with his teeth. He took her hand again and poured the water over it, rinsing away his blood from both their hands. He would have rinsed her scales too where he had clung to her, but he feared that might be offensive, so he offered her the skin and let her do it herself. 

Some of the tension left her, and she sat back a little, sinking slightly onto her...tail-body. Luka tried not to let his glance become a stare. “Forgive me,” he said, tearing his eyes away and forcing them back up to hers, snake-slitted but so very, very blue. “I’ve never met a nagi before, and I don’t know your customs, so I hope it isn’t very rude to ask your name?” 

She smiled a little, the hint of fangs peeping from between her lips before she caught herself  and tightened the smile to hide them. “It is customary to give yours first, since this is my home,” she said, and Luka was vaguely surprised to hear only a hint of hissing on the sibilants. Prejudice, he scolded himself. 

“I do it gladly. My name is Luka.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. 

Her hand fluttered uncertainly to her chest, and she did the same, dipping slightly awkwardly as she swayed forward on her serpent half rather than bending at the waist as he had. “I am Marinette,” she told him, and then she blushed—a very human reaction that gave Luka an odd little thrill. “I have been listening to your music.” 

“Ah,” Luka nodded in understanding. “It is your song I have been hearing, coming to visit me,” he grinned, and Marinette’s blush deepened. Her tail shifted to coil beneath her, and he glanced down without meaning to, but caught himself quickly. Even so, something about motion spoke of discomfort, and he thought back to the fluctuations in her song when he’d spoken to her in the past. Without the trance he heard only faint echoes of her melody, but he thought he was embarrassing her. “I’m very happy to finally meet you. Thank you for the gifts.” 

Marinette looked away, the fingers of her clawed hands playing nervously across the scales of her tail like a maiden might twist her hands in her lap. “I only wanted to thank you, for your music. It’s...beautiful. I’ve loved hearing you play.”

“I’ve enjoyed having the company,” he told her honestly, and smiled at her look of surprise. “I always play better with an audience, even a shy one.” 

Marinette blushed and covered her face with her hands. Luka found himself reaching to touch her before he thought the better of it. Her arm felt very solid under his hand, but also very human. “Don’t be embarrassed. I truly did enjoy your presence, and I’m not offended that you chose to stay secret. The world is not a safe place, and you didn’t know me.”

“I did know you,” she said quickly, peeking out from her fingers—a sweet, childlike gesture, he would have thought it, though those deadly sharp claws were at odds with the image. “At least, I felt like I did, eventually. I haven’t been afraid of you for a long time.” 

“I shouldn’t think you’d be frightened of much,” Luka teased, tugging a hand away from her face and turning it so her claws shone in the light. “You’re very strong, for which I’m extremely grateful.” He winked at her, and she giggled. 

“You shouldn’t have gone so close to the cliff, especially if it’s rained recently,” she admonished, rising up slightly as her tail uncoiled from beneath her. Before he could blink it shot out like a whip, striking the edge of the cliff. A chunk of earth crumbled beneath the blow and he could hear the rocks rattle down the other side. “It’s not safe. It erodes underneath when the storms come, and then the edge is unstable.” She pointed at the pale purple flowers growing in the grass. “You shouldn’t go beyond where the asters grow.” 

Luka saw now, what he hadn’t before, that they formed a boundary that followed the curve of the cliff, but left a good size border. “I consider myself warned for the future,” Luka observed, shivering a little. Marnette moved closer to him, a hand hovering near his cheek.

“You’re so pale,” she fretted.

Luka sighed, and tried to stand. He swayed and Marinette had to catch him—gently, this time, keeping her claws from his skin. He smiled gratefully at her. Clearly he was going to have to do something about the blood loss, but he couldn’t focus unaided any longer. “I need my gittern,” he told her, and she slipped under his arm, pressing against his side. She raised her body up to a height comfortable for him, and then helped him back towards the meadow.

They found his gittern and pack where he’d left it. Marinette helped him sit on the rock and recline against it as he usually did. She wound around the rock, and hovered over him, pressing his instrument into his hands, her expression still worried. 

“I need to deep trance,” he told her, as he set shaking fingers to the strings and took up the plectrum. “I can sense you in trance as I did before, but I won’t have attention to speak.” He smiled weakly. “Please forgive my rudeness.” He glanced at her through only half-open lids.

Marinette nodded slowly. “Do as you must,” she said, sinking back a little and folding her hands across the bend in her tail that would have been a human lap. “I want you to be well. I want to be sure I haven’t harmed you badly.” 

Luka chuckled. “Lady, you saved my life.” He opened his eyes and turned his head to look into hers. “And whatever harm I have taken from it, I consider it a price well paid to have met you at last.” 

Marinette blushed like any human maid, and Luka smiled before settling his head back and strumming the tune that triggered his trance. He fell into the song of the earth then, drawing the power from it that he needed to speed his body’s recovery. 

After a time, he felt the rich tones of Marinette’s presence withdraw, and mourned their loss, but he wasn’t recovered enough to break trance to try and call her back. He was almost finished when her music returned, and he found it more beautiful than ever now that he had the proper context for it. 

When he opened his eyes at last, she was there, resting in a nest of loose coils on the grass near him, and pink tinted her cheeks again when he smiled at her. He sat up slowly, setting the gittern aside, breathing through the slight dizziness he felt once he was upright. It cleared quickly, to his relief. 

“I brought food,” Marinette said a little uncertainly. “I thought you might need it, after...that.” 

“I do,” Luka smiled. “Will you join me this time?” 

She gave a tiny nod and busied herself with the basket sitting next to her, so that he only saw the corner of her smile. Luka had been trying desperately to be polite but now that she was distracted he couldn’t help satisfying his curiosity. Her serpent half, sleek and muscular, was a deep pink, almost red, with darker, splotchy spots down her body. The scales reached to her human waist, and then became patchy as they gave way to human skin—he couldn’t see quite how far up the scales continued, since she wore a vest over her human torso, covering very human curves that he quickly averted his eyes from, not wanting to be caught staring at that any more than at her tail. The vest was pretty, a soft grey edged with pink, laced up the front rather than the back as he was accustomed to seeing on women’s clothes. It was embroidered as prettily as any maiden’s gown, with little flowers along the bottom hems and vines twisting up the front, and fitted very well, moving with her as she bent and swayed in ways that were definitely not human as she arranged a small picnic before him. 

He slid off the stone to sit on the grass instead, though he still leaned back against it. His weakness now was only from the exertion of healing himself, at least; once he had eaten and rested he should be able to stand on his own two feet. 

“...was something wrong?” Marinette asked suddenly, and Luka looked up at her in slight surprise. “When you went to the cliff...you seemed like something was bothering you,” she clarified.

“Oh, that.” Luka chuckled, taking another bite of his honeyed bread before he answered. “I was upset,” he admitted, a slight blush coloring his own cheeks, “but, ah...after the events of this morning, I’m finding my perspective has been altered a bit.” He grinned at her, and she giggled. “Now it hardly seems worth talking about. I’d much rather hear about you. You made this place?” He gestured at the meadow garden. “It’s beautiful, and the care you put into it shows.” 

“Thank you,” Marinette said, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear—her ear was pointed, he realized, and told himself not to stare.  “Eat,” she said, nudging a plate to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything fresh, but…anyway, you should eat.” 

Luka tucked in to the smoked meat and bread gratefully, needing the fuel. Marinette only nibbled a piece of bread, watching him with quick glances. Luka’s subconscious had apparently been at work while he was in trance, and all the observations, all of the things he had sensed from her over the past few months, fell into place, and even though she was clearly not quite comfortable being in the open with him yet, she didn’t feel at all like a stranger. 

By the time he felt able to attempt the trip home, the sun was setting. No sooner had he gotten to his feet, though, than Marinette had risen up beside him and taken his arm in a careful grip. 

“I’m coming with you,” she said decisively. 

“That’s not necessary,” Luka told her, frowning. “I can make it on my own. You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want you to risk yourself.

Marinette snorted. “There is nothing in this forest I need fear. You, on the other hand, are screaming prey right now.”

Luka winced. “I can protect myself.”

“If I am with you, you won’t have to,” Marinette said firmly. “Nothing in this forest will come near you while I am with you. There’s no point in arguing, because you can’t stop me, anyway.” 

Luka had to admit that was true, so he might as well be gracious about it. “Thank you,” he told her, and they started off on their journey.

Luka had good reason to be grateful by the time they reached the edge of the forest. He might have made it home without Marinette but it would have taken him a long time. The slightest obstacle was too much for him and without her support he would have had to stop and rest more often than he did. 

At the edge of the forest, though, he begged her to turn back. It was an easy walk from here, and not so great a distance, and knowing how careful she was, he didn’t want her to reveal herself without need. 

Marinette lost a bit of her bravado as she looked toward the human settlement in the distance, and reluctantly agreed. 

“It may be longer than usual before I can come again,” Luka admitted with a tired smile. “That is, if I would be welcome.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows slightly. “You never asked before,” she chided, but she didn’t sound very stern, and she didn’t let go of his arm.

“I didn’t know you before,” Luka reminded her. “I might push the goodwill of a stranger, but I would never trespass on the privacy of a friend.” 

Marinette looked away for a moment, and then laid her other hand on his arm. “A friend is never unwelcome,” she said at last, meeting his eyes, and when he smiled, she smiled back. 

“Then I will come as soon as I am able,” he said, laying his hand over hers. “Thank you for everything, Marinette.” He lifted her clawed hand carefully and kissed her knuckles lightly. 

She drew her hands back slowly and wrapped her arms around herself. “Be safe, Luka.” She turned quickly and disappeared back into the forest. Luka stood a moment longer, and then sighed, turning to make his own way home, where he was duly fussed over and scolded by his family for his late return and weakened state. 

At his request, the next day Juleka brought home every book she could find that mentioned nagas at all. 

***

She checked the meadow every day, even though he had said it would be some time before he could come again. She even started through the forest, more than once, to go and check on him herself. That was silly, though, since all she would have been able to do was hover at the edge of the forest, and the only way she would see him would be if he was coming to her anyway.

Not to her. He wasn’t coming to her, but to this place, but those two things now essentially meant the same thing, now that he knew of her. She settled for spending as much time in her meadow as possible, which wasn’t such a change from her usual routine anyway. Her lair was cozy but her meadow was the best place for sun and fresh air and the inspiration of nature’s beauty. 

Somehow, though, she got a lot less done than usual, unaware how often she interrupted her work to look in the direction that he would come, or to sigh and try to figure out how many days would reasonably pass before he would return.

***

Luka made his way to the meadow the first day that Juleka let him out of the house. Fully recovered now, he made his way to the meadow with none of the woolgathering and leisurely strolling that he usually engaged in. 

He could see her even before he stepped out of the trees, draped over the large couchlike stone in such a natural way that he couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t guessed her nature before this. Of course the rock was worn smooth, scraped daily by her scales, and wasn’t she beautiful, gleaming in the sun. She was half-asleep, fangs peeping through her lips as she smiled at some idle, sleepy thought. 

Luka thought to find a seat on the grass and perhaps play something soft, but Marinette woke before he had taken many steps into the meadow. 

“Oh,” she said, raising herself with a close-lipped smile. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was waiting for you, and the sun felt so good.” She stretched luxuriantly, and he watched in fascination the rippling motion that traveled the length of her body. 

Then what she said clicked in his mind. “You were waiting for me?” She hadn’t known when he would come. He hadn’t known, since he had wanted to come two days ago and Juleka threatened to tie him to his bed if he even hinted at doing any such thing. Surely she didn’t mean...she had been waiting for him all this time?

Marinette’s eyes widened slightly, and she blushed, and Luka had the distinct impression that she hadn’t intended to admit that. “Oh, well,” she waved her hand as if it meant nothing, and slid down from the stone to slither towards him. “You know I’m here, and now you know what I am, so…” She shrugged those strong shoulders, coiling her body beneath her. “It seemed silly to hide any longer. Unless you’d rather I leave you to concentrate.” 

That wasn’t really an answer, but Luka let it go. “I would hardly kick you out of your own garden,” he laughed, indicating the meadow with a wave of his hand. “If you don’t mind my presence, then I would be glad for your company.” 

“I’m glad to see you’re well,” she said, looking him over critically. 

“Thanks to you, and my mother-hen of a sister,” Luka chuckled. “Who kept me in bed at least two days longer than I wanted to be, despite complaining that I was ruining her business for the month by lounging in bed instead of working.” He grinned at her, leaning in slightly. “I’m afraid I may have to stay a little longer than usual today to make up for it.” 

The way her face lit up set his heart racing, before she composed herself and said, “Well, then I had best not keep you any longer.” She glided over to a basket under a nearby tree and took what looked like an embroidery hoop out of it, before looking back at him and raising her eyebrows. 

Chuckling, Luka went to the rock she had abandoned and readied himself as usual. Except now his seat was warmed from her body resting there, and he could look across the meadow at Marinette somehow working her embroidery despite her claws, and she could look up and meet his gaze.

And when he sank into the song, hers was there alongside it, vibrant and beautiful, still shy, but beautiful in its happiness. It seemed to resonate with his own, and it took effort not to follow it, to touch it and sense all that she was feeling.

Luka focused his mind on his work as best he could, and whenever paused to switch the crystals and opened his eyes, Marinette was there, as lovely as her melody, strong and fearsome, ten feet of muscle and grace that took his breath away, sweetly working on her own strangely domestic projects. When she sensed his eyes on her, she looked up to meet them with a small smile. 

When he finished his work, he played for her as had become his habit, though it was growing late and he would need to leave soon. Marinette put down her work and came to circle the stone where he sat, propping her chin on her arms as she looked up at him. 

At last, Luka had to pack up his things with a sigh and an apologetic smile. 

“You will come again?” she asked casually. 

“With your permission,” he replied, and she snorted.

“You always have that,” she said, and then blushed, ducking her head beneath her arms.

“Marinette,” he said, and she took her head from her arms, sitting up and lifting her body a little to look at him. “Will you smile at me?” he asked, impulsively. “For real?” 

Marinette put a hand over her mouth, looking distressed, and Luka shook his head slightly, smiling fondly. “Don’t hide who you are, especially if you do it for my comfort,” he told her gently. “I’m not frightened of you, no matter how fearsome your strength or your claws—or your fangs. You are lovely as it is, and I assure your smile will not make me think you less so.”

That crimson shade he was quickly coming to love spread over her cheeks, and though she was clearly fighting it, she did smile fully at him, for just a moment, before looking down at her hands. 

Impulsively, Luka put his fingers under her chin and lifted it back up to look at him, but he quickly drew his hand back, afraid he had overstepped. “Much better,” he said as casually as he could manage, sitting back, his stomach suddenly full of butterflies.

He got another glimpse of Marinette’s full, fanged smile, before she looked away shyly. Luka sighed to himself.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

[goblin-writer]

A Solitary Watchman

I apparently remembered how to write again. It’s been a while.

Thank you to @flashfictionfridayofficial​ for a prompt that hopefully gets me writing again :>

Ancient ruins hung from the cliffs, frozen in their collapse. An archway drifted between fragments of walls and stones that, free from mortar and gravity, spun to and fro in the mists. Out above all this the remains of a bridge jutted from the cliff. The road that it once was a part of now overgrown with weeds and dirt that was content to keep it all together.

A lone rider wound their way towards the bridge, white cloak billowing in the wind. The riders black boots reflected a fire that had long since burned itself out. Next to the bridge a single tree stood defiant. Its trunk bore scars of some great force and its branches bowing away from the abyss that it now abutted. A man in a mottled cloak watched the rider. His dark eyes following him along the road as the man lit up a pipe and allowed wisps of smoke to escape into the air.

The rider brought their horse to a halt next to the tree and spoke with a voice that commanded attention in the highest halls of power, “Where is my city?”

The man in the mottled cloak gave a large puff of smoke before his hoarse voice answered, “The great conqueror returns. You left here twenty years ago, our glittering armies with banner of eagles, and ravens, and all manner of birds.”

“The city was still protected.”

“So well protected that no army could hope to assail its walls let alone reach the bridges that marked the second river. You should have seen it, the enemy arrayed in their thousands, crashing against the storms of arrows and flashes of lightning.”

“I would have expected to see carved wonders of these battles.” The conquerors voice hardened, they had marched away to protect the city from so many enemies. They had bathed in blood and faced down magic that wiped away hundreds.

“Ruin and destruction. They called them your great exports, the cities and kingdoms you toppled. They were angry,” The man looked toward the gravity defying ruins. He could still see the field of bodies and the rivers bursting their banks in a red tide, “We held against all those you defeated as they found their way here time and time again, some begging for our aid, others calling for our blood.”

“No amount of men could have taken the city, and starvation couldn’t have become a problem.”

“The stores you left behind were plentiful, and people didn’t go hungry. You didn’t prepare against treachery.”

“My brother was tasked with ensuring loyalty.” The man nodded as the hooded figure spoke.

“Your brother, the younger brother of the great conqueror. Our Immortal Queen whose legacy he never would compare to.” As he puffed smoke into the air it seemed to hang for just a moment the royal house’s emblem.

“What did he do?” The queen asked the man.

“He did what any young royal fool would do. Instead of proving himself as a wise leader and someone we could rely on he invited mages and sorcerers to the court. Over years they poisoned his mind. With promises of greatness and a legacy to eclipse whatever you accomplished they fed his greed.”

“What happened?” Her voice was razor thin; the curved sabre at her hip seemed to expel a red mist. The golden symbols burned into the backs of her hands glowed with a baleful glare.

“He opened the tomb in hopes of emerging as you did. The seal was broken and the city began to tremble. Great fonts of earth were erupted across the city and we ran. The royal guard brought up the rear and the garrison the vanguard. We punched through our besiegers and they ran. And we ran. It felt like an eternity. Then I fell. The earth opened up to swallow me. Some enemy caught my hand and hauled me up.” He fell silent for a while, the wind pushing a brick from the ruins over the ground where it promptly clattered down.

“They left, to build a new life elsewhere. I wouldn’t, or rather couldn’t abandon my post. The city is ruined and destroyed, as are so many. Hopefully my queen will relieve me of my watch.”

The queen was silent for a long time as she looked across the floating ruins. The man on his part shifted uncomfortably before she spoke, “Why didn’t you leave?”

“I tried,” he shrugged, “but I woke up here every morning it seems the abyss took my oath rather seriously.” He presented her with a pennant and lance. She smiled a sad smile that reflected his own.

A lone rider in a white cloak rode away from the field of floating ruins, away from the singular tree. They held a pennant aloft. And beneath that tree the ground once more received an offering of blood.