#wyvern's off the rails again

[dracanianwyvern]

Art w.i.p for smth.

Going to bed now later-

[dracanianwyvern]

My gender is a bit different from the one I have.

????????

Type "my gender is" on your phone and let your phone finish the sentence, then tag your moots to keep the chain going, I'll go first.

My gender is a little bit more intense than I thought I could have done

@mirukosbitchywife @get-junpeid

[browniejeane]

Chapter 3 - The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 3 has been posted - The calm before the storm; the last moment of rest before they take on the last two gods.

Enjoy a snippet of the chapter under the cut.

The air was still. Nothing moved except for her. Fingers light on the railing, she ghosted down the steps carefully, mind swirling about what the next few hours would hold; what the next several days would look like. Letting herself take a few more minutes, she let her hand drift along shelves and books and scrolls as she made her way around the small table in the center of the room, smiling at the signs of life it held. Abandoned mugs, mostly empty but a few with dregs of tea or coffee floating about the bottom; empty snack plates dusted with crumbs and scraps of food; books left open, their places marked with bookmarks or a griffon feather or even a piece of leather tucked between the pages, holding the place that somebody wanted to reference again at a later date; a half completed wood carving sitting on one of the bookshelves, a sharp carving knife set next to it as though the owner had merely meant to step away for the briefest of moments; artifacts half taken apart left scattered about…it made her heart ache knowing that Bellara wasn’t there to tell them all about whatever it was she had discovered and was working on. Settling herself into her chair, Rook let her eyes closed as she breathed through her discomfort. A book had been tucked into the chair between the arm and the cushion, its sharp corners digging into her thigh. She shifted slightly and pulled out a copy of The Joyous Wyvern, which she knew she had spotted next to Lucanis’ cot on more than one occasion. She tucked her legs up under her before setting it fully on her lap and calling for the Caretaker to summon her remaining companions to the library for her. Smiling softly to herself, she leafed through a few of the pages, eyes skimming over the words as she waited for them to arrive, losing herself in the tale that Lucanis had so loved as a child.

“Mi vida,” a warm yet admonishing voice startled her out of the tale some time later, a mug of hot coffee waving under her nose. “What are you doing?” Lucanis looked worried, his brows slightly furrowed and a gentle twitch of his lips let her know that he did not approve of her being on the first floor.

“We have work to do, love,” she replied softly, accepting the hot drink as she set the book aside. “We can’t keep putting it off.” Rook watched as Lucanis crouched next to her, cupping her cheek in his hand as he studied her face for something, anything, that said she wasn’t ready for this. She nuzzled into his palm with a sigh.

“Things can-”

“They can’t wait, Lucanis. Everybody here knows that. We’ve been lucky so far. But we have to keep pushing forward.” Taking a sip of her coffee, she met his gaze, softening at the way he frowned at her. “Once this is over, you can fuss over me all you want.”

[equinoxbloom]

Wandering Vessel

[XIV Write 2024 | Day 1 | Steer]

The night chill was biting as they cut silently through the dark sky, and Cid Garlond was certain he knew the sounds of the ship better than his own name. They had only just been reunited - he and the ship and his name. His gaze trailed over the familiar rigging to the small shape leaned half into the evening abyss off starboard. He sucked in a breath to call out to her and say something about her safety, precariously reaching for the clouds as she was.

And then he recalled the way she’d carved a path through the Vigil, herself and not herself at once, familiar and unrecognizable and awful. He had not often felt he’d glimpsed the nature of the divine. He was certain of that much, even as the fog suffusing his memories still lingered. And that they’d gone through such pains to recover his airship to deliver her to the Lady of the Vortex. He held his tongue. She could not fly, but it felt unreasonable to admonish her for her lackadaisical hold on the rail. 

He passed the handles of the wheel between his palms and they fit with a surety that comforted him.

The aether-soaked breeze tangled through her hair and the slow creaking of the airship’s revived mechanisms faded into the thrum of the clouds and the stars like music in her ears. She could feel Marques’s - rather, Cid’s, attention lingering on her. Was he worried?  She kicked her feet back down onto the deck and pushed back from the rail. He should not. Not for her, when she’d walked away where others had not, again and again. As if the gods of this place demanded it.

She curled her fingers, pointed nails digging into her palm. Noraxia’s tiny body in her hands. The smell of blood she knew. She’d buried too many parts of herself in the Lichyard too recently. Parts she hadn’t realized had become her own at all until they’d been laid out in neat rows on the ground, or disappeared.

Cid had been wandering his own thoughts and bridged the silence between them at last. “You…” he began, brow furrowed, searching the tangle of his resurfacing past. “You remind me of them,” he said. She hugged her arms around her shoulders and crept closer to him, glancing back at the sleeping curl of their young companion near the prow.

“Them?” she didn’t need to ask.

“The Warriors of Light,” he said.

“I am no warrior,”

“Your light,” he said with a wry smile. She winced.

“I wasn’t there,” she said. He nodded.

“I know. I think,” he said. “But all the same,” he stared past her, gaze trained as if he could see their course charted plainly ahead. He guided the Enterprise with a steady hand. Natural as breathing, in so much as breathing was natural until it wasn’t. She’d wondered briefly if Isgebind would do what Ifrit hadn’t, and Titan, and the Empire itself. A fleeting thought suspended in the moment the beast had roused with an unnatural roil in its aether. 

Alphinaud had been so quick to leave her to face those wicked teeth, and the rime, alone. Unwavering purpose, or juvenile confidence, or -

There had been faces at the Waking Sands she’d recognized with names she’d not learned. She’d carried them, woven her aether around their empty bodies to complete the task, and prayed to gods that weren’t her own in their honor. Perhaps there was a winged beast that would descend on the Vigil and offer the same to the wyverns she’d left in their wake. 

She twisted a strand of her dark hair around her finger, turning away to follow the path Cid’s eyes held. Had she ever set her own course, seen it tethered to some far horizon? She shivered. It hadn’t seemed like it mattered; she had been born into a bird cage of faith and expectation. She had always been chosen; crossing the sea had simply given it a different name.

“I find your Warriors of Light tragic,” she said after a long moment. The burden of being chosen was the sacrifice of choice; and choice was a  desire that had only just sparkled distantly in her periphery. An incubating sense that had been brought forth stillborn in blood on stone. In Thanalan. In Coerthas. She felt herself leaning into the skeletal support of her new menagerie. To steer her own course might be the height of hubris. Her gaze traveled back to Alphinaud’s sleeping form. “There’s peace and terror in giving yourself over to others. They take and take the things only you can give,” she turned back to Cid. 

The Garlean genius Eorzea had been happy to consume; pulled back between her teeth again before he’d reclaimed himself. But he held the handles of the wheel like he’d been given back a limb he’d lost and those blue eyes were unwavering. He smiled gently. “But you give yourself today,” he said, “and you will decide if you want to give yourself tomorrow. You needn’t be certain what the answer will be. You needn’t be certain that you can.”

She sighed as a sudden and deep exhaustion worming its way into her bones. Cid had stepped so easily back into certainty. She didn’t want to tell him she lacked the same fortitude; that it was easier to break herself on the altar of self-imposed duty. “You should rest,” he said. She nodded. Found a place to settle against the hull and carefully tucked away the violence that might have become her steadiest companion. Closed her eyes and let the fatigue permeate her body. Because he’d told her to. Because she could repent for the sneaking desire to forget the faces of the dead in her dreams, where they called her name again and again.

[dracanianwyvern]

PYRARE FOR CHARACTER BINGO!!

Blorbo by proxy and father of my favourite character. :]

[dracanianwyvern]

Achievement unlocked!

Wait what? A double theft?!

Have your gimmick stolen by a non-gimmick blog, while also having it stolen by another gimmick blog.

[opens up ask box]

[closes ask box]

[mousegard]

it's that time of month again! time for a new chapter of "edelgard and co drive the plot of symphogear g off the rails!"

Episode 11: Where Silence Has Lease

In this chapter, Maria breaks bad, Shirabe makes a new friend (against her will), Edelgard meets Chris's parents, and Heidrun (with reservation) embraces the life of a song-powered magical girl.

Heidrun closed her eyes and willed the circulation of magic in her body to tie a knot around the fragments of Gungnir near her heart; the words of the Holy Chant came to her lips, a fire in her lungs and a resonant tenor hum in her throat. Her feet slipped from the frame of the helicopter, but rather than meeting empty air rushing past her, she felt heat and light engulf her, like stepping into a blacksmith’s forge. In this realm of light, bright enough to burn through her eyelids, she felt currents take hold of her. Her body moved of its own accord, as like a dancer, and it reminded her of all those times Edelgard had taught her to dance. Heidrun—Hubert at the time, of course—had been taller than her, and a boy, and thus a natural fit to lead, but she had always preferred Edelgard play that role. Even then, perhaps, this had been right for her. Her hands traced the familiar sigils of magic spells while the innermost layer of Gungnir’s armor traced itself over a body she had once only entertained shameful fantasies of having, molding itself to her shape like a second skin—black, ash-gray, bloody streaks of scarlet. Machinery built itself around her; gauntlets assembled around her wrists, not unlike the arcane devices employed by Those Who Slither in the Dark, and glowed with pulsing violet lights. Next were armored boots, rising to her thighs; and skirt armor, along with what she supposed those ‘vernier thrusters’ were. A billowing shroud of a cape flowed out like spilled ink from the crimson jewel in her collar, spilling over her back. Last to form was the headgear: the sharp, protruding blade antennae flipped forward like goring horns, and—as a personal touch—a visor formed over her eyes and slid down to form a mask over her face. (She wasn’t sure why the rest of her fellow Symphogear adapters just ran around with their faces uncovered. Did they realize how much extra work that meant for poor Fujitaka and Tomosato? What if the Flame Emperor had run around without a mask?) And then, with the transformation complete, she found herself hanging motionless in thin air once more, the city below rushing to meet her, the helicopter above dwindling away. She unfurled her shrouding cape to form a set of broad, gliding wings like those of a wyvern’s, dark magic fluttering like raven feathers on the breeze, and slowed her descent.

[meggannn]

I put this on twitter but thought I'd write up my Golden Wildfire thoughts here too (have not played Scarlet Blaze or Azure Gleam yet)

short version: I didn't hate it. I actually really enjoyed several parts of it. I had to turn my brain off for certain plot events—it got exhausting watching them have Claude invade a neighboring nation on a whim and then immediately retreat after one victory due to an exceptionally vague threat back home, and I can't justify that as anything but bad writing—but it was kind of fun seeing Claude go off the rails.

for the whole thing to work, though, i had to look at Claude in a very particular way, a way I've come around to after thinking about it, and no it's not because I see him as Edelgard Lite. it really only worked because I've been long curious about this supposed "darker" side that didn't appear in Houses, but I fully acknowledge and dislike the premise that the brown guy from the east was set up to be the scheming, untrustworthy lord. I did like that the twist in Houses was that he wasn't actually super devious at all, he just wanted broader open boarders policies and to eat well with his friends. to me though, Golden Wildfire was Claude's struggle city, and his behavior matches: I think the context of what he had in Houses vs Hopes is what makes all the difference. more Claude thoughts are way at the bottom of this.

anyway the GW #vibes were fun, but it's possibly just because I played it first and was captivated by shiny new content. these are the rest of my thoughts that slipped through, because there was, as expected, a lot I didn't like as well

ALMYRA

I was really excited for Shahid and what his presence could mean (seeing his and Khalid's dad? Tiana? or Almyra at all?), yet all that amounted to was two chapters fighting wyvern riders in Fódlan’s Locket and a few tense conversations between brothers. I’m sure killing Shahid affected Khalid more than I can properly grasp right now—I certainly think it made him feel more alone, misunderstood, and isolated in Leicester, and maybe more inclined to make a big play like becoming king, which happens immediately after—but Shahid was barely mentioned after his death.

so I was kinda disappointed. sparing him the first time didn’t even really matter despite Claude going “I won’t make that mistake again”—Shahid didn’t betray his trust or injure him or affect his goals or friends, he just kept throwing himself at the Locket, so the necessity of killing him felt oddly justified.

Almyra in general has such a weird treatment where they keep telling us “Almyrans are good guys just like Fódlani!” yet the “representation” consists of:

a lord the writers keep insisting is manipulative and untrustworthy

his power-hungry brother who spends his entire screen time trying to invade a foreign nation

a kid who doesn’t want anything to do with his homeland

a pretty cool guy admittedly who keeps throwing himself against the brick wall that is Holst Goneril

interestingly, Claude never mentions or brings up his return to Almyra in Hopes like he achieves in Houses. was it a consequence of the game not ending on a finished note, or did killing Shahid harm his chances at returning home and claiming the throne? (I don’t think it would, because judging by his history, deaths in the name of power struggles are probably common and it wouldn’t be too hard to say “sorry dad, Shahid died in a border skirmish.”) anyway if killing him HAD hurt his chances, that could’ve been much more interesting I think—it could’ve made Claude more desperate in that he feels he had to resolve things in Fódlan before returning home, in a way he didn’t in SS/CF/AM Houses, leading him to make more ambitious plays. but all of that is conjecture.

LEICESTER FEDERATION

the logical part of me gets it: Claude is in a tough spot and forced to make tough decisions, and he doesn’t have the patience, curiosity, and knowledge that Houses!Claude developed over the year at Garreg Mach by investigating Byleth, Rhea, Seteth, etc. turning the Alliance into a Federation is definitely an interesting development and helped the route feel unique from Houses, and it stressed that Claude was spiraling down a difficult path. but the emotional part of me was disappointed because, well:

it felt very sudden and… oddly foreshadowed. looking back, I see what they were trying to do, but having a few characters go “these roundtable meetings are taking too long” was a weird way to stress that Leicester needed a new government. why not have the slow meetings actually affect Leicester’s ability to respond to a sudden threat? as it is, not much actually changes after the rebranding, because Claude (and Holst and Judith) are still around all the time to make decisions/lead their troops anyway. which makes the whole thing just feel like Claude painted the bus with a new coat of paint just for fun.

making Claude king gives all the nations kind of a… “samey” feel, idk how to describe it. I would joke Claude was feeling self-conscious he was going to be just a duke instead of an emperor or king, so he quickly made this reform happen so he could fit in at the Garreg Mach class reunion, but he is also literally a prince of another nation, so. as it is, it's like, really? being royalty in one nation wasn't enough for you?

Leicester certainly wasn’t democratic pre-Federation, yet the development feels like a weird step backwards, and the only indication Claude was considering its future progress was a single line in his support with Lorenz that maaayybe the position be voted by the people the next time? like. Claude. I don't think you're describing a monarchy. (that said, I would love to see Lorenz handing out LORENZ 4 PREZ campaign buttons)

NABATEANS & AGARTHANS

well, it sucks that one of my favorite parts of VW!Claude didn’t exist in GW, which was his sense of curiosity and nosy attitude. part of that is ofc due to Byleth—since he didn’t see them wield the Sword of the Creator, tear open a hole in the sky, or rise from the dead, he never grew to question his “faith”—yet he never really seems to have the same curiosity for Shez despite them… both being mysterious mercenaries with odd powers. and since he spent so little time at Garreg Mach, he didn’t have as much of a drive to uncover the church’s secrets, which, to be fair, I dunno if that would’ve made a difference in his decision to ally with the Empire, but I think his lingering questions did contribute to his Houses legacy as a lord who was concerned with the truth. I appreciated that a lot in VW so it was a shame to see it gone.

the fact that he never destroys Shambhala and uncovers the truth about the Agarthans+Nemesis kinda sucks, but I hope that plot point will be left for Scarlet Blaze, maybe? if there was only one route I would give Shambhala to in Hopes, it would be SB, so the jury's still out on my judgment there.

that said, it was disorienting as hell that they kept running into Solon and TWS and yet Claude’s sense of curiosity/frustration at not having answers never seemed to trigger the way it did in Houses. he was mostly just irritated that they took his attention away from the war. like I get they’re busy and all but damn.

“MY BLORBO WOULDN’T DO THAT”

Claude got his Discourse route here and I have to admit when I heard spoilers for this game a year ago, I wasn’t very happy with what I was hearing. Claude invades the Kingdom? he dissolves the Alliance and becomes king? but now that some of the shock is out of the way, I’m less opposed to it, or maybe most of my disappointment has just dissipated and I’m trying to see it as Claude not being at his best, rather than the writers trying to pose GW as his ideal route or him showing his “true colors.”

I have to give credit to some other folks I’ve seen online and even in fanfic exploring Houses!Claude’s darker side, because without them setting the stage, I don’t know if I still would’ve accepted some of his actions in Hopes. like, it’s one thing to retroactively piece together in Houses that this guy is foreign royalty, and another one to see it in Hopes when he comes to a new land and crowns himself Leicester’s first king within four years. it was a reminder that oh yeah, this probably isn’t meant to be a good thing. this is what happens when a stressed, paranoid young man is thrust into a role he’s not ready for and still feels like he can’t trust his friends despite putting on a brave face for everyone. with that in mind, things make a lot more sense to me.

as for Rhea and the Kingdom, I once joked (pre-Hopes) that I saw Claude as a centrist, cause like after all, he does try to play a lot of sides and “hear Rhea out” etc in VW etc. in retrospect with Hopes, I do think this is consistent with his characterization if I shift my view of his perspective from “I’m on the church’s side now just cause they’re not Empire” to “I’m on MY side”—or rather, “I’ll side with whoever I think has the strongest chance of winning and turn that into my advantage.”

I think his goals, as he discusses, necessitate Rhea being out of power, but whether that’s through disposing over her, having Edelgard take over, or putting Byleth in charge—doesn't matter if the church is still around or not, any version of Claude would spin these possibilities to his needs, but he just doesn't want Rhea at the head of it anymore.

In VW, Byleth is the biggest factor as an outsider who wields the SOTC, who people trust and will rally around, and most importantly, is open to Claude’s goals. Rhea's missing and they've appeared to lead (and change) the faithful? sure! it makes sense to keep the church, then. plenty of people have noted that in VW he approves of Byleth theorizing that Rhea might be dead, so I never thought he was particularly attached to Rhea herself. but with Byleth prepared to take over as archbishop and agreeing to his new dawn, that’s a big mark in favor of making use of the system already in place; having Rhea alive would just net him answers to all the conspiracy questions he never resolved during the academy, which was a plus but not critical to his understanding—until TWS attacked with the javelins of light and Hubert's warning about Shambhala, when he then gets frustrated at Rhea keeping secrets.

to summarize: Houses!Claude has spent months being suspicious of Flayn and trying to break into Seteth’s office for confiscated documents. he saw Byleth come out of a hole in the sky with Sothis’s blessing and started questioning his beliefs. he’s open to hearing Rhea's story, but he mostly appropriates Church dogma to achieve his goals in Part 2, but he never fully commits to it himself.

In GW Pt2, he has no allegiance to the church, doesn’t know or care about the Nabateans/the truth of the relics, the Empire is a few shoves away from toppling Faerghus, and he sees an opportunity to get what he’s wanted by removing Rhea from power. to Hopes!Claude, knocking a few pieces over in eastern Faerghus will end this war as quickly as possible and achieve what he wants, instead of watching Edelgard and Dimitri drag it out for years. why should he just sit by and watch more people die when he thinks he can 1. end it quickly and 2. get what he wants? a few people die now by his actions as opposed to watching lots more people dying over several years by others'. it isn't that dissimilar from Edelgard's philosophy, so it doesn't surprise me they teamed up.

so with all that context, I get it. it’s difficult to watch him having such a hard time and flip-flopping between sides! it certainly won’t help Leicester’s or his own reputation. but it IS kind of fun to watch Claude when he’s the controlling the train and tracks both with very few checks and balances to rein him in.

TLDR I’m putting GW!Claude in my pocket and then under a microscope

SHEZ/ARVAL v BYLETH/SOTHIS

literally what is going on here. this was the biggest disappointment for me, cause I was expecting, idk, lore drops? how does Shez have these powers? who was their mom? who tf is Arval again and why does it matter? why does Epimenides even exist when Arval was one floating white weirdo enough? why stress a big rivalry with Byleth/Sothis when it amounted to a confrontation in Zaharas that neither of them were even a part of?

I get why people like Shez but their actual presence as a protagonist felt odd. I didn’t really feel like they made a dent in the events of the GW; Claude just made decisions around them and occasionally thanked them for listening. the only thing Shez seemed to affect was Byleth’s recruitment, so again… all roads appear to lead back to Byleth and Sothis, which makes it even weirder that the mystery of Sothis v Arval was never addressed.

you could argue Houses!Byleth also let plot events happen around them, which is fair because they are relatively passive when it came to Part 2 politics, and I have my own criticisms about their Houses writing. but I think I’m more accepting about Byleth because we at least see them making decisions around the monastery, helping students conquer their demons, deciding to go after TWS, etc. there’s also a lore reason they’re the Houses protagonist. if there is a lore reason Shez and Arval are important, we never learn it, cause Epimenides popped in for like two scenes, spouted some nonsense, then left.

I do like protagonists who have personalities outside the player (Hawke and Shepard are my favorite Bioware protagonists for a reason). that said, I HATE it when that personality is joker/“memelord.” it is so boring to me when the designated Funny Character is also the protagonist who has to have the last word, or get in one last joke, and it's the reason I couldn't get into GTN lol. Shez is more than that, and I have seen worse examples, but I am a little bitter that people seem to think Shez is better written or whatever just cause they talk more than Byleth. (I think they’re both written weirdly, for the record.) Byleth was quiet but at least I understood why they were important. I got to the end of Hopes and still didn’t understand why or how Shez was the main character. they were SO CLOSE to telling us and then just. didn’t.

that's all folks

[red-velvet-0w0]

okay guys I had a wierd dream last night and I wanted to right it down just so I dont start misremembering it.

so I was on a road trip or something (I dont really remember) and we decided to stop at this roadside attraction. I did not yet know what this attraction was, when I noticed a sign warning to be careful of the wyverns and (I dont really remember the name but it was like antiwyverns? alphawyverns? amalgawyverns?), but only while on the ride as they couldn't reach you on the ground. looking up I noticed there were hundreds of wyverns flying around in the sky, and also realized that it was extremely foggy in the sky, so I could only really make out their silhouettes.

I was then escorted to what I at first thought was an escalator that led to the ride, but when I stepped on it shot me forward at like roller coaster speeds and I had to hold tight to the handrail to not fly off the ride. once we were fully up in the wyvern infested foggy skies, it then transitioned to a flatter plane (sort of like those speed walk things at the airport) but it was still moving at terrifying speed. every so often the speed would be broken up by rubber floored sections that would slow you down for just a second, before sending you flying once more.

The woman in front of me had brought her dog along (for some reason) and it was attacked by wyverns and nearly killed.

This entire time I was just clutching to the railings, begging myself not to fall off, holding on for dear life to the handrails (I cannot stress enough how unsafe the speeds we were at were, and how unnecessarily vivid my dream made these sensations. my hands are literaly shaking just by recalling what happened)

The path wasn't flat either, it kept going up and down like a rollercoaster, but without any safety precautions, no way of seeing anything, AND FUCKING DRAGONS IN THE AIR EVERYWHERE (though by this point the wyverns were the least on my concerns).

Finally i reached the end of the ride, and was able to walk on my own two legs again, but not before being being flung down one final escalator and slammed into the ground.

the last this I can remember for the dream is me and my sibling watched as a bunch of attendants and the woman in front of me tried to save the dog from bleeding out.

[pepperdee]

TCoH Excerpts that make me happy (in no particular order): Dragon-Lizard Hijinks

“Look at the lizards,” Clove said to Rose. He pointed to some sunned rocks in the sea, where castelosas feasted on the algae and worms. As the argument between her parents and sister continued, she drowned them out by giving in to her curiosity.

Though they were far away, Rose knew what castelosa lizards looked like: bearded dragons but make them wyverns. Instead of traditional front legs, they had dragon-like wings. Bearded wyverns, Rose mused silently. There was almost a complete rainbow of castelosas: red, orange, green, blue, purple…

Clove waved wildly at the rocks. “Think one’ll ride on my shoulder?” he asked her, his thick eyebrows peaking.

“But why should I be sweaty?” yelled Lily.

Rose forced herself to only think about lizards. “If you ask nicely,” she said to Clove.

Clove cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey! You!” he called. To Rose’s surprise, the purple one turned to them, his slender body pointing right at them. Clove perked up. “C’mere! Become my buddy!” The lizard tilted its head curiously. Rose elbowed Clove in disbelief. “Please!”

“Quiet yelling at the wildlife, Cadman!” scolded Momma.

The purple castelosa took off into the sky, swooping over Momma. Momma shrieked, Rose stumbled and ducked, Poppa and Lily dove out of the way, the nearby tourists scattered. The castelosa turned in midair, gliding back down at Momma, her hair mussed by the first attack. Momma shrieked again and bustled ahead in line to safety.

Apparently satisfied with its terror, the castelosa landed on the railing Clove and Rose were crouched by. Clove jolted as it climbed onto his arm and slunk around his shoulder, little red tongue sticking out of its lips like a marble. Rose’s jaw fell. It looked at her, perfectly circular pupil ringed by amber. How’d I do? she imagined it saying, probably.

A stillness fell on the surrounding area. The tourists all stared at the family in awe, exchanging mutterings in almost every language. Lily clung to the railing, legs shaking, face pale and green. Poppa had his arm extended in front of her, his other a fist, prepared for fire.

“What…just happened?” Poppa whispered.

Rose stared wide-eyed at Clove and the lizard. Up close, Rose could now see the little gold scales flecked on it. Rose blinked at the lizard. It blinked back. “Um…I…I think…” she mumbled but couldn’t come up with an answer. She didn’t expect asking nicely to work.

A huge grin split across Clove’s face as he stood up, pointing at Lily. “Aha! Gutsy is never wrong!” he declared, only causing more confusion. “Rose said if I asked nicely, it would come sit on my shoulder. Gutsy agreed. Now who’s stupid?” He crossed his arms proudly. Rose’s face fell to her hand.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Poppa said.

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 2.3 (NSFW)

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

NSFW. 6500words.

Today on TWB: join us as Adalyn gets railed by Slate's extended family. The whole damn thing is filthy. Though there's some wholesome dialogue if you squint.

Content warnings - sex with an audience (exhibitionism and voyeurism), PIV sex, oral (both cunnilingus and fellatio), anal, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, and spit roasting. Consensual drug use (aphrodisiac). Non human genitalia and marathon sex too. All sex acts in this chapter are consensual, though sometimes unenthusiastic.

Further content warnings - moderate amounts of humiliation, brief fantasising about noncon, squint and you miss it crying and begging, LOTS of praise kink, and an expected amount of profanity. Let me know if I missed anything.

Previous

The messenger leaves. Once more Adalyn and Slate are alone. Still tense enough to jump out of her skin, Adalyn slips off the bench and steadies herself.  

Slate doesn’t step back, and she finds herself too close to him, suddenly reminded of how tall he is in his current form. She clears her throat. “I need to get ready.” 

After a moment, he backs off. “Of course.” 

She glances at the pile of gowns. Bites down on her lip at her next concern. “I think Rin put the potions away.” 

He curses softly. “It might take too long to fetch them now. Can I bring you one after you’ve started?” 

She considers. “Yes. If it looks like I’m struggling.” 

“Which one would you prefer?” 

She shrugs off her jacket and picks up a dress, pretending to examine the material. She can’t bring herself to name it, and her cheeks burn when she replies. “The stimulant.” 

She appreciates that it’s only clinical concern she hears when he leans into her line of sight. “As long as you’re sure. When I said it will leave you with a major hangover, I meant it. You’ll be drinking the by-product of two different kinds of monster venom.” 

“Are there any other side effects?” 

“You’ll be almost unbearably aroused for six to nine hours. It will also take the edge off any pain you might experience. And if you fall asleep with it still in effect, you could have some particularly vivid dreams. The hangover doesn’t usually last more than a day.” 

Adalyn clenches her jaw and nods. “That sounds acceptable.” 

Slate makes to leave. “I’ll go track it down now.” 

It might be panic that makes her grab his sleeve. He pauses and glances down at her.  

“I don’t want to go out there alone.” 

His momentum fizzles, and he takes her by the hand. “Shall I escort you?” 

She nods. Fidgets and glances from him to the gown. “I still need to change.” 

“I can wait outside?” 

It’s a conscious choice to let go of his sleeve and let him leave – one she is reluctant to make. Once alone she removes her dress, her footwear, and her chemise, putting them in a neat pile. Naked, she shivers, suddenly struck by terror.  

She pulls the gown on, tying the sash with shaking fingers. She splays her hands on the bench and takes a few deep, centring breaths. Not giving herself time to overthink, she steps from the room and threads her arm around Slate’s elbow. 

“Let’s go.” 

Her posture is too stiff, and the silence between them is strained. She doesn’t look up at him; doesn’t want to see his reaction to her outfit. Fear and mortification fight for dominance in her gut. She pushes both down, focusing on her breathing, on the cold stone beneath her feet.  

She hesitates when they reach the dining hall. Standing at the threshold, nobody has seen them yet. Adalyn tightens her grip on Slate’s elbow. 

He reaches to grasp her hand again; the warmth and weight of his touch comforting. “You’re safe. You’re going to be fine. I’ll have that drink ready for you as soon as you need it.” 

Adalyn nods. Allows herself to glance up at the wyvern. He watches her with an unnerving intensity, but his features are otherwise arranged into neutrality.  

She can’t meet his stare for long, and looks away.  

There’s a lull in conversation as they step into the room. The sea of faces before her makes her light headed, and she has to stare at her feet to stay calm. Slate’s hand ghosts the small of her back. It’s the only thing grounding her. 

It’s cold.  

Even with the fires and the warmth of the crowd, Adalyn can’t ignore the fact that sheer glass armour would shield her better than her current attire. Not an inch of her is hidden. Not from the guests and not from Slate. All he has to do is look down and he’d have an unimpaired view of her breasts, squeezed together as Adalyn wraps her arms around herself. 

Somehow the path across the room is both the longest walk of her life and the shortest one. She stares impassively at her stage. Her mouth goes dry when Slate helps her get seated, hosting her up by the waist and sitting her on the edge of the table. He doesn’t mind her knuckle white grip, detaching himself gently when she’s in place and ready to start. He squeezes her hand and gives her a soft smile, before retreating to the dais. 

Adalyn allows herself a sweeping look around the room. Not everyone stares, but the number of people who do is unnerving. The way she’s eyed is entirely different from earlier: no longer the delegate, or Slate’s employee. Now she’s fair game. 

“You may begin.” The Matron’s voice cuts through the clamour of her thoughts. 

It’s too soon. Adalyn grips the edge of the table like a vice, stiff as a plank. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Incrementally, she relaxes.  

Of course, the moment somebody touches her knee she flinches and becomes tense again. 

“You doin’ okay?” 

The wyvern before her is pale, with his scales white and spotted in a way that almost reminds her of birch trees. One of Slate’s cousins – Dal, she remembers– who'd already had a turn with Lindel. 

“Yeah,” she rasps.  

He raises a brow. “You’re as pale as I am.” 

She clears her throat. “I’m not used to doing this with an audience.” 

She’s not used to being eyed with so much desire either. Nobody had looked at her a second time in Fleecehold. And her couplings in the other parts of the valley hadn’t been much to write home about. Neither had her lovers.  

Now the attention is impossible to ignore. The air is thick with excitement, and many of the spectators are too, to be literal. The wyverns at the tables closest to her are seated backwards, to better watch the show. Two other males sit at the centre table, too close for comfort, and a handful more stand in the periphery, waiting their turn. It’s as if everyone is keen but her. 

It strikes her that Lindel would have had an easier time of things. Her partners had been patient; not so worked up yet. With the whole night ahead of them there’d been no rush. She supposes that most of the night still waits, but the males were doubly eager after Lindel had whetted their appetites.  

Adalyn’s breath is unsteady. She tries not to tremble.  

Dal smiles, and Adalyn reflects that he’s quite handsome. She’d probably find him attractive if she weren’t busy being petrified. He’s short for a wyvern – perhaps seven feet in height – but tall enough that she has to crane her neck to look up at him. 

“Close your eyes. Pretend we’re alone.” 

She does. 

Jaw clenched, back damp with a cold sweat, she fixes that thought in mind. She could be alone with a stranger. She had been alone with a stranger. This could be a normal romp, and she’d be on her way tomorrow. There’d be nothing else – nobody else – to worry about. It could just be her and Dal. 

His hand slides up the outside of her thigh, slipping under the dress, and for a moment she does imagine it’s just the two of them. Eyes closed, she’s far away, pressed up against a stranger in some back alley during the annual Trade Festival. The hand on her cheek is gentle, and when he lifts her face to his for an exploratory kiss, she doesn’t feel quite so anxious.  

The touches are almost leisurely, increasing in intensity slowly, as not to spook her. Dal’s lips along her neck and collar bones tingle, and the hands squeezing her waist and thighs transition smoothly enough that she doesn’t balk when he parts her knees and moves between them.  

Her heartrate accelerates when he tugs open her gown. Cold air nips at her breasts and she shivers. Sensing her trepidation, he winds a hand into her hair, guiding her back and giving him clear access to her throat. He kisses the length of it before recapturing her mouth with his. Soon the intensity of his touch becomes dizzying, and she’s panting for breath when he turns his attention to the rest of her body.  

Her lips part in a silent cry when he kisses her breasts. Heat begins to pool between her legs, as he stops to suckle on one of her nipples, idly fingering the other. She arches into his touch, beginning to pant in earnest. 

His free hand continues up her leg until he brushes against the apex of her thighs and pauses. She’s torn between flinching away in shame and whimpering with need when he finds her slick with arousal.  

His lips go to her ear. “Fingers or tongue?” 

She opens her eyes in surprise. “Hm?” 

Dal’s cheeks are flushed with grey. He stares down at her, almost hungrily. “I can’t use these,” he bumps her erections against her thigh, “until you’re good and ready. How can I get you there?” 

Adalyn flushes. She presses her face against his shoulder, unable to meet his eye. “I don’t know. You choose.” 

She feels the curve of his smile when he kisses her again. Feels the rumble of laughter from his chest. “Both, then.” 

The idea makes her squirm, and she’d squeeze her legs shut if he weren’t gripping her thighs so tightly. 

Yesterday it hadn’t even occurred to her that a man could go down on a woman – watching it happen to Lindel had been an epiphany. The idea of experiencing it herself is almost bewildering. 

Dal's kisses become fiercer; his teeth brushing her skin as he sucks little bruises along her shoulder. Claws dig into her flesh, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to sting. Adalyn’s breath becomes unsteady.  

Her eyes widen when he crouches before her, spreading her wide. She’s never felt so exposed. Legs open, core on display, and clad in the flimsiest material imaginable, she must look obscene. 

She claps a hand over her mouth when Dal kisses her leg, nipping at her thigh and growing closer to her centre.  

“Lie back.” 

She does as he instructs, catching sight of the onlookers as she does so. Her other hand goes over her face.  

Everyone can see, everyone can see, Slate can see, he can-  

Between her fingers she looks to the dais. Something pangs in her chest when she finds his seat empty. Relief, or regret, she’s not sure. She quickly forgets the thought when Dal’s presses his tongue against her slit. She closes her eyes at the contact.  

His hold on her legs is bruising, but his tongue is gentle, working up and down her folds. It doesn’t take long for him to grow bolder, pressing deeper, probing her entrance, before gliding back up. She jolts when he finds her clit. Feels him huff with amusement. He circles it, and Adalyn’s hips leave the table. She puffs into her hand, trying desperately to hold still.  

The brush of stubble against her sex, the way Dal sucks on her clit – it's overwhelming. Adalyn’s thoughts are in disarray. She tries to keep quiet. She tries to keep still. But Dal’s treatment is good. She’s never enjoyed herself like this before. When he slides a finger inside of her it catches her off guard completely. 

There’s a whining, desperate sound, and when she realises it came from her, she doubles down on her grip, pressing her palm harder against her mouth. Her body betrays her anyway; anyone who bothered to look would see the effect Dal has on her. Her hips buck. Her legs tremble. Encouraged by her reaction, Dal curls his finger inside her, massaging her walls in a way that’s just delightful. She clenches hard around him, swallowing back a moan. 

She loses track of time as he slips another finger inside of her. Then another. Barely able to curl them at the squeeze, Dal instead pumps them in and out, coaxing more and more sounds from Adalyn. Her occasional whimpers turn into soft moans. She bites down on her lip to keep the noises to herself, but keeping her mouth shut only does so much. 

“You’re beginning to sound as desperate as you look.” 

She opens her eyes at his words, whisked back to reality for a moment. He’s not wrong. She’s begun to grind against his tongue, and her hands have left her face, instead fisted in the furs beneath her. Dal hadn’t even fucked her yet – had she really become so unravelled in such a short amount of time? 

Shame burns and rises within her, but at the same time her pride slips further. So what if she enjoyed herself? It would certainly make the night easier. And it’s not as if any of the wyverns considered the public act particularly perverted.  

Still, when she spies her intended husband sitting once more at the high table, she can’t help but close her legs around Dal’s head and cover her face again. She doesn’t want Slate to see her like this; exposed and incoherent for another male.  

Dal ignores her clamping, pulling her closer with his free hand. The way he continues, with little regard to her humiliation, she can almost pretend she doesn’t have a choice in the matter. That she didn’t consent to this. That she won’t have to brave Slate in the morning with the knowledge that she’d agreed to fuck half the males in his clan.  

She leans into that fantasy, fed by the filthy wet sounds Dal is making, and the grip of his fingers around her thigh. As the shame recedes, she finds herself... exhilarated.  

The thought settles into her, and a haze begins to cloud her rationale. Yes. This could be exhilarating. Still embarrassing. Still perverse by all human standards. But not quite so mortifying, nor unpleasant.  

She starts to relax, melting into Dal’s touches. She still twitches, shuddering with each ripple of pleasure. But her head lolls against the table, and her jaw goes slack as a guttural groan escapes her.  

“There you go,” Dal says before standing.  

Adalyn whines when he withdraws his fingers. The sweet pressure that had been building inside of her subsides. She cracks open her eyes in time to see Dal licking his fingers clean. At her shock he gives her a toothy grin. 

“You ready?” He nudges her with his erection. 

She opens her mouth to reply, but no sound escapes her. She nods instead and it’s all Dal needs to see before he unlaces his pants. 

His hemi springs loose and Adalyn’s mouth goes dry. Despite her reluctant resignation to the situation, she can’t help but sit up onto her elbows, both enthralled and unnerved by the sight.  

Stacked on top of each other, slightly thicker than any human length she’d seen, and pointed at the tip, they make for an intimidating sight. Standing at his full height, Dal has to lift Adalyn by the hips to fuck her. He pulls her towards him, and she loses balance, falling back against the table.  

She clenches hard when Dal pushes inside of her. His pointed tip makes for easy insertion, and Dal lifts her hips to meet his thrust, spearing Adalyn with one movement. The manhandling, the stretch, the warmth inside her; none of it is unexpected. None of it is unpleasant. But the way his topmost cock grinds along her sex is a surprise, and she jerks at the stimulation.  

She’s not sure if he’s being considerate or teasing, but Dal fucks her at a lazy pace. The friction is certainly enjoyable, but the lightness in which her clit is rubbed, and the gentle rolling of his hips isn’t nearly enough to satisfy her.  

“You’re taking too long,” somebody complains within earshot. 

Adalyn had entirely forgotten the other wyverns waiting at the table. 

Dal shrugs, insolent with his smile. “We have all night.” 

“Tsk.” Somebody stands alongside them. A male with dark hair and a short beard. His horns are the colour of coal, and the scales on the back of his hands shine with a similar sheen.  

She starts when he grasps her by the chin, turning her head to look at him. His black eyes bore into hers. 

“Is this enough for you? Would you like more?” 

Hazy from arousal and getting impatient with Dal’s pace, she whimpers. 

The stranger leans closer. “Do you want more?” 

More, she mouths the word and nods mindlessly.  

His grin is nearly feral. “Good. Open your mouth.” 

Heart fluttering, Adalyn does as he says, suddenly filled with trepidation, but too desperate to change her mind. 

His thumb brushes against her bottom lip, claw scraping her tongue. 

“Suck on it.” 

Her eyes widen when he pushes into her mouth. His claw is sharp, pointed, but not keen enough to cut at a touch. She circles the digit with her tongue, tracing the keratin before probing the softness of his flesh. Then she sucks.  

The wyvern smiles in response.  

Dal scoffs at the interaction, and thrusts with more force, the leisurely roll of his hips abandoned in favour of harder, sharper thrusts. Finally, being fucked at a pace that pleases her, Adalyn moans, clenching hard around the wyvern. Sweet tension begins to build in her core. 

The darker wyvern replaces his thumb with two fingers, and she suckles them enthusiastically. He tastes like honey – like dessert. But more pleasurable than the taste is the daze that fills her mind. The arousal that had clouded her rationale before now completely obscures it, and before long Adalyn’s inhibitions are almost entirely loosened. She slurps on the stranger’s fingers, opening invitingly for the wyvern to start pumping them in and out of her mouth.  

Distantly, she’s aware of their voices. The male using her mouth utters a string of filthy compliments, informing her just how good she sounds, how well she’s doing, and how fucked she looks. The praise buzzes her, and she moans around his fingers again. 

“Fuck. Roll her over.”  

It’s a relief to be lowered. Dal had held her by the thighs, but her legs had hung past the end of the table, aloft and unbraced, and her muscles burn from strain. She’s equal parts frustrated and relieved at the interruption, as the coil inside her loosens and her orgasm slips out of grasp.  

Dal rolls her onto her side, raising one of her thighs and using it as leverage to fuck her once more. His second member no longer brushes along her folds, and is instead pinned against her thigh, but the loss of its weight doesn’t faze her when Dal thrusts back into her. The new angle sends a spike of pleasure through her, and Adalyn’s thoughts stall. 

He takes his time getting used to the new position, lifting her hips with one hand and pressing her raised leg against his chest with the other. If he were any shorter Adalyn could hook her leg over his shoulder, but the sheer size of the wyvern prevents it. 

The fingers leave her mouth, and Adalyn pants for breath, blinking up at the dark-haired wyvern. Evidently, he’s had enough teasing, because undoes his pants and holds his hemi an inch from her lips. 

“You could suck on one of these instead?” 

Breathless, she licks her lips at the idea. She’s never been particularly into oral. Especially when the men whose dick’s she’d sucked had left her hanging afterwards. But with the fog of lust hovering over her, and Dal hammering her steadily towards a peak once more, she wants nothing more than to go back to sucking, and the warm buzz it had given her. She opens her mouth eagerly, lifting her chin.  

It’s at that moment when her eyes slip past the stranger. Rolled onto the side she has a better view of the room around her. Of the guests; drinking at their seats, turned to watch the show, or standing and waiting their turn. Of the high table, where matriarch and her kin preside over the evening. Of Slate; chin resting on his hand and face carefully blank as he watches Adalyn take a stranger’s cock in her mouth.  

She balks when her gaze meets his, drawn from her haze for a moment. The wyvern pressing into her doesn’t notice, and when Adalyn stalls, he begins to thrust shallowly into her mouth.  

At the weight on her tongue and the hand in her hair, she closes her eyes, entranced once more. He doesn’t taste much different from a human - salt and sweat. She salivates at the taste, and drool starts to drip from her lips, down her chin. The second cock takes her by surprise, rubbing against the side of her face with each thrust. The smear of pre-cum against her skin is obscene, the tip dragging from her cheek to her hair line, mussing her hair. 

Somebody grabs one of her breasts, and she arches into the touch, groaning around the wyvern. The touches meld together and she’s adrift in sensation. Somebody’s talking to her again. Somebody’s fucking her and filling her mouth. Fingers find her clit; in easy reach in her new position, and Adalyn has a visceral reaction, bucking and shuddering. Her eyes flit open for a moment, and she makes eye contact with the male using her mouth. He’d been gentle, grinding enthusiastically but not pushing into her throat. His hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping the length that wouldn’t fit.  

He’d been speaking. Murmuring another string of assurance, but Adalyn only catches fragments: “- doing so good... You look so- ...I’m going to paint your pretty-” he cuts off in a groan. 

Adalyn tastes his seed before he pulls out and spills the rest on her face. She flinches at each string of ejaculate, waiting until it’s safe to open her eyes. He leans against the table, flushed and panting.  

Dal pushes her onto her back again. He bites down on his lip as he takes her in: breasts on display, hair dishevelled, face a debauched mess. Unable to hold back any longer, he stiffens. Adalyn feels him pulse; feels the wet heat spread inside her before he pulls out. Reeling and winded, Dal is still transfixed as he watches his seed drip from Adalyn. 

Her legs hang limp. The pleasure building inside her recedes once more. Disappointment creeps in as she closes her eyes and tries to catch her breath.  

Her time untouched doesn’t last long, and she starts when she feels fingers on her face. She stares up at the dark-haired wyvern as he wipes the come from her cheeks. He pushes his fingers back into her mouth, this time coated with his seed.  

Her nose crinkles at the taste, but she doesn’t otherwise resist, obediently sucking him clean.  

He smiles. “Ready to go again?” 

She leans back, and he removes his fingers so she can speak. “Didn’t you just...?” 

He smirks. “Nobody told you? Two cocks. Two loads. Here. I’ll let you suck this one at your own pace.” 

- 

It sets the tone for the rest of the night. Nobody is shy about using either of her ends. Before long she’s sticky from sweat and spend, unsure if there’s a part of her not yet sullied. Her gown is pulled off. Somebody undoes her braids. Her hair becomes a tangled mess.  

Nobody hurts her. Clawed fingers dig into her skin, and some of the kisses plastered on her are a little toothsome, but no blood is drawn. The most she can complain about is how overwhelming it becomes.  

The night increases in fervour, and her fortitude starts to diminish. Her skin crawls as a spectator, impatient, climaxes over her breasts. She becomes dizzy, being led by the hair from cock to cock without time to recover. They're gentle with her, all things considered. She doesn’t choke, and while a few wyverns make her gag, she can always breathe. But it becomes overwhelming, regardless. 

Hands wrap around her neck. Faces become a blur. A stranger pets her hair. She loses track of who’s touching her. Of how many people surround her. 

It’s not embarrassing anymore, but it’s still upsetting. Filthy and used without break, she feels degraded. Brought to the brink of orgasm and denied numerous times; passed around and filled with a burning need, but ultimately neglected as her partners fail to notice how close she gets before they stop and start over. She’s not sure how much more she can take. 

Somebody takes her from behind again. Bent over the table with her rear in the air, she presses her face into the furs beneath her. She’s so slick from use and pliant from exhaustion that when somebody spreads her cheeks and starts to finger her ass, she can only keen when they push inside. Somewhere somebody is laughing.  

Tears prick in her eyes and she puts her hands over her head. She focuses on her breathing, and tries to let the sensations wash over her. Somebody asks her if she’s okay. If she can keep going. She gives them a thumbs up, but otherwise keeps her face down, hiding her distress. 

There’s a lull in activity around her. The male behind her stutters, before slowing his pace. The people around her – the hands in her hair, groping her breasts, touching her back – they vanish. It’s as if a bubble of breathing room forms around her top half.  

Adalyn cracks her eyes open. The figure sitting alongside table is one she is very familiar with.  

“How are you feeling?” 

She presses her face against the furs again, letting out a noise of non-commitment. 

“I brought you a drink. You must be thirsty.” 

She’s pretty far gone, but she blinks, fighting back the fog of exhaustion as his words needle at her memories.  

She is thirsty. But the drink is more important than that.  

He nods at her glimmer of recognition. “Roll onto your side?” 

She struggles, but Slate assists her, standing and placing his hand against her lower back. The male who’d been using her doesn't pull out, but he ceases his thrusts long enough for her to have a reprieve. Her hand shakes so much when she reaches for the offered cup, that she thinks she might spill it.  

“I’ve got it.” 

He brings the drink to her lips, and she nearly squirms from embarrassment. She downs the mixture, trying not to prolong the moment. Her nose crinkles at the aftertaste. Something cloyingly sweet had been used to cover up the bitter ingredients. 

Slate lowers the cup and she notices the effects of the potion immediately. The ache in her jaw disappears. The weight of exhaustion retreats from her limbs. Soon she can sit up on her elbow, unaided. Most noticeably, she becomes very aware of Slate’s closeness; his hand against her back, his face inches from hers.  

Roused to her senses and uncomfortably aware of Slate’s stare, she looks down, cheeks ablaze. “Thank you.” 

“Any time.” She misses the smile he gives her. “Here,” he takes her by the chin and angles her head towards him. 

She melts into the gentleness of his touch, letting out an embarrassing mewl as he uses a handkerchief to wipe the mess from her face. She doesn’t notice the way he stiffens at the sound; cheeks darkening. 

After a moment, he recovers, sitting beside her again. Adalyn’s heart races at his choice of seating. At his proximity, her embarrassment returns.  

Embarrassment, she firmly tells herself as the potion heats her blood.  

At Slate’s retreat, the male behind her reacquaints himself with Adalyn’s insides, resuming his fucking. With her attention suddenly brought back to the dick throbbing inside of her and the finger hooked in her ass, Adalyn squeaks, and bites down on her lip to keep any further noises to herself.  

She’d been able to relax with Slate across the room, but at his closeness she’s hyperaware of each noise she makes.  

She wants to crawl into a hole when the male slips another finger in her ass. He slows his thrusting while he stretches her out, taking his time to scissor his fingers and draw some huffs and gasps from Adalyn. He pulls out for a moment to collect some of her slick before pushing back in. 

The male slips in another finger, and at the stretch she squirms. It feels – good. Good enough that her mind blanks and she moans at the treatment. 

She didn’t realise how much the aphrodisiac would arouse her. She can’t imagine any other reason why having her ass debased in such a way makes her clench with need and pant wantonly into her hand. 

She curses under her breath.  

Slate’s hand finds hers and she flinches, casting him a glance. “Hah... you’re still here?” 

“There’s no rule against me sitting here. Unless it makes you uncomfortable?” 

She can’t identify the emotion behind his tone. Can’t stand to meet his gaze, so squeezes her eyes shut when the male behind her starts to pump his fingers and fuck her alternately. 

She doesn’t want to reply. Can’t even think of a reply. But the feel of his stare on her; having him see her like this – it's too much. She covers her face with her hands. 

“No, don’t hide,” he gently pries them off. 

“Please don’t look.” 

She tries to turn away, but he’s having none of it, grabbing her by the jaw and turning her to look at him. “But you look so good, sweetheart.” He takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

She nearly swoons at the contact, and lets out another whine. Her haziness is compounded by the increasing force with which she is being fucked, but she’s still flush with shame. 

“I look like a mess.” 

There’s that emotion again. It’s plain across his face now. His voice is thick with it when he replies. “You look irresistible.”  

It’s want.  

Adalyn’s eyes widen at the admission. Her hair is a rat’s nest, her skin is splotchy with spend, and she can barely hold her head up, but he thinks she’s irresistible.  

“Hey human, do you mind if I fuck this hole instead?”  

She almost doesn’t hear the male behind her – still reeling from the honesty and desire on Slate’s face. After a moment she processes the request. 

Any other day and she’d be too scandalised to even consider the suggestion. As it is, the words are entirely obscene, and Adalyn balks. “What?” 

His fingers curl in her again, and she lets out a throaty groan, before covering her mouth and flushing. With Slate looking at her like that, and the potion making her ache with need, she almost agrees immediately. Almost. 

It’s not like the male gives her space to consider. The tip of his cock drags against her back wall every time he moves inside her, and the pressure at the entrance of her other hole is unexpectedly delectable. She can’t help but wonder how it would feel when tested against the thickness of a wyvern member.  

She lets out another moan, and tries to press her face against the furs again. Slate holds fast on her chin.  

“Is that a yes?” 

She doesn’t reply, giving another indecipherable groan. 

“He asked you a question, Adalyn.”  

Her eyes widen when Slate speaks to her, somewhat stern in tone, but no less gentle.  

“Do you want a cock in your ass?” 

She whimpers at the stare he levels at her; entirely expectant that she’ll answer. Her cheeks burn with humiliation and she tears up when she nods her assent.  

He nods to the male behind her, relaying her permission.  

With no need to draw it out, the male removes his fingers from her ass, pulls out, and lines up with her entrance. Slick enough to slide inside he lets out a hiss as he presses against her, pointed tip helping him slip past the tight ring of muscle. 

Adalyn is unable to move as he seats himself. Hands fisted on the table, holding her breath, she feels every inch of him. She’s trembling and nearly delirious with pleasure when he bottoms out. Once seated, he pauses, giving her time to adjust.  

Slate squeezes her hand. “You’re doing so well.” 

She whimpers. The stretch is more than she’d expected. It’s overwhelming, and she suspects it’d be painful if she were sober.  

The male begins to fuck her.  

She’s silent at first, breathless as he plunges in and out of her. He takes his cock out fully each time, forcing Adalyn to experience that initial stretch of re-entry over and over. It doesn’t take as long as she expected to relax; to arch her back and lean into each touch. She spreads her legs further to accommodate the male, and when she slips too low for comfort he lifts her by the hips, holding her like a toy and fucking her at his preferred height.  

She doesn’t know if it’s the aphrodisiac or the position, but she’s desperate to be touched. Clenching around nothing while still being fucked makes her insatiable, and she lets out a throaty groan. Her eyes flutter open for a moment to find Slate watching her ardently. 

Does he have to peer so closely? All she wants to do is touch herself. To feel some extra bit of friction. But with the heat of Slate’s stare she can’t do anything by whine and sniffle, mind clouded with lust once more, but somehow held back by the last trappings of embarrassment.  

He leans closer, and Adalyn finds herself inching forward, as if drawn by gravity towards him. Soon his lips are brushing her ear, and she hangs on to his every word, eyes falling shut. 

“You can do it, sweetheart. You’re doing amazing.” 

She stares again, unfocused and bleary eyed until she narrows in on the bulge in Slate’s pants. 

Fuck. 

She closes her eyes but the image has seared itself into her retinas. Forever embedded into her mind is the knowledge that Slate doesn’t just want her, but he wants her. Still wretchedly horny, still achingly empty, still so damn close to coming, she whines, absolutely overwhelmed by the new revelation. It’s enough to bring tears to her eyes again.  

“Damn, you feel good when you clench like that,” the wyvern inside of her groans. He starts pounding into her in earnest, and Adalyn cries harder, drawn unbelievably tight with need.  

“Oh, please,” she whispers, “please, please, please,” she’d bury her face again if it weren’t for the iron grip Slate has on her jaw. She opens her eyes, stares sightlessly at him, begging to anyone who’ll listen, “please, I need to come, I’ll do anything, please-” 

The wyvern reaches around. He grinds the heel of his palm against her clit. There’s no gentleness, no finesse in the movement, but it’s all that she needs. 

Her nails dig into Slate’s hand and her vision turns white. She bucks and spasms, and would probably double over if it weren’t for the grip both wyverns maintain on her. 

Her ears are ringing so loudly that she doesn’t hear herself when she chokes out his name.  

He hears it though.  

The assault on her ass doesn’t stop, and when she drifts back down to reality she’s still being pounded relentlessly. Slate has loosened his grip on her face, and instead has his hands steepled in front of him. He’s flushed, his pupils almost entirely dark, and he regards her with wide eyes, as if watching her come apart had surprised him.  

Boneless, Adalyn slumps to the table, whining as the wyvern continues to palm her clit, drawing out the aftershocks of her orgasm until she’s twitching and entirely overwhelmed. She’s held up only by his hands around her hips, no longer an active participant in the sex.  

“Are you alright?” Slate eventually asks.  

She gives him a smile, eyelids drooping, and nods. “Mm.” 

When the wyvern finishes, she barely notices. She’s lucid enough to continue the trial, but not nearly coherent enough to give more than one-word answers. Thankfully that’s all anyone needs to continue.  

Nobody uses her mouth again. Slate acts as a deterrent, and she’s grateful. In her natural high, she’s no longer bothered by his presence. If anything, it only excites her more. Watching him react to each of her sounds; adjusting his pants, staring hungrily, digging his claws into the table – it's enough to make her giggle, damn near drunk on endorphins.  

The high doesn’t last long enough though, and the hours start to blur together again. The aphrodisiac keeps her wet and wanting, keeps any pain at bay. It does not keep her alert.  

She’s lost track of time when the room starts to spin. Her vision begins to tunnel; dark spots creep into her peripheral, and she blinks rapidly to stay awake. She tries to rub her face, but her arm won’t move. Her limbs feel like lead.  

She tries to say Slate’s name. Her tongue is too thick in her mouth. Too dry.  

“Here,” he says, bringing another cup to her lips. It’s water, and she drains it with relief. 

“’m tired,” she manages to mumble. 

“I know. It’s nearly over, Adalyn.” He brushes her hair back and she leans into his touch.  

Her eyelids droop closed.  

“Hey,” he taps her cheek. “there’s minutes left. I promise.” 

She stares, not really processing anything she’s looking at, but keeping her eyes open just for him. Somebody grabs her by the hair. Digs their claws into her waist. The sting is enough to keep her present, but when her partner finishes and the next one takes over, she finds herself fading again. 

Tears prickle at her eyes. “’m sorry.” 

“No,” he strokes her face. “There’s no need for that. You’ve done so good for us.” 

His words send a flicker of warmth through her chest, but her eyes drift shut. 

“Dunno... if I can keep... going...” 

“You don’t have to.” It’s not Slate that speaks. 

She cracks her eyes open, one last time. In her stupor she doesn’t place the Matron immediately. Doesn’t really place her at all. The wizened female points up to the skylights. The sky is turning pink.  

“The sun is rising. You’ve passed the test.” 

-

That marks the end of Part 2. I'll be taking a break and will resume working on TWB in November, for NaNoWriMo. Thanks for sticking with me so far <3

Next

[frozenartscapes]

A continuation of part one. Edelgard begins to experience modern Fodlan, and has many questions.

-- -- --

So this...was a “car”?

Edelgard stared at the metal contraption before her, head tilted slightly to one side. “I don’t...understand,” she said after a moment, “Is it like a carriage?”

“Sort of,” Byleth replied, “Only it drives itself.”

Another head tilt, this time in the other direction. “How does it do that?”

“Uh... To be honest, explaining it simply would be a bit of a challenge. I’m not much of a mechanic,” Byleth said sheepishly.

“A...mechanic?”

“You know what? Why don’t we get going and I’ll start answering while we drive.”

Edelgard awkwardly settled into the passenger seat of Byleth’s car, her antiquated armour and battledress making things a little difficult. It took a few more minutes for Byleth to teach her about a seatbelt and why it was necessary.

“We never had such precautions when we rode horses. Or wyverns.”

“Yeah, but even wyverns don’t fly as fast as cars.”

Eventually they were off, and the ride was painfully silent. Though it wasn’t because of any kind of animosity. Edelgard was too busy staring out the windows, quietly gasping in amazement as they drove through the city toward Byleth’s downtown apartment.

“If we hadn’t met in the palace, I would never believe you if you told me this was Enbarr,” Edelgard said eventually, as they drove down the main boulevard that was lined with all kinds of high-end shops and restaurants. It was the end of the week, and the nightlife was only just ramping up. People from all backgrounds were flocking to various entertainment venues for a fun night out. It was a far cry from the Enbarr the Emperor had known.

“I guess it has changed quite a lot,” Byleth admitted as they pulled up to an intersection.

Edelgard frowned in confusion. “Why are we stopping?”

“Because the light’s red.”

Edelgard glanced up at the light in question. “So it is, but... It doesn’t appear that anyone else is moving through the intersection. Can we not go?”

“No. Because the light’s red.”

“I fail to see why a simple light would have such power.”

Byleth let out a tired sigh. “It’s just...how traffic works now. Trust me: if you saw this light during rush hour, you’d appreciate the control way more.”

“...Rush hour?”

The light mercifully turned green, and Byleth allowed the subject to drop. Edelgard was once again preoccupied with taking in the sights of the city, marvelling especially at the tall condo and office towers. That’s when Byleth remembered the radio.

“Hey, I have something to show you,” she said, reaching for the power button on the dashboard. The radio flicked to life, softly playing a talk show station Byleth had been listening to that morning.

Edelgard’s eyes lit up like a child seeing snow for the first time. “What is this?” she breathed, leaning in to better inspect the radio.

Byleth chuckled. “Try it out. This dial here tunes it, so you can switch between stations. And this one is for the volume. Careful with that one: it can get pretty loud in here. All the numbered buttons are stations I’ve saved.”

Edelgard tentatively turned the tuning dial, gasping in pleasant surprise when the radio switched to playing some classical music. Byleth couldn’t help but grin as she watched the fearsome Emperor messing about with a car radio, fully and un-ironically engrossed in the technology.

She spent the rest of the trip like that, and the way she struggled to hide her disappointment when the radio turned off with the car brought another grin to Byleth’s face. “Just wait until you discover the TV,” Byleth teased as she led the Emperor toward the elevator.

“I can tell you are clearly enjoying yourself,” Edelgard commented coolly, “I’m glad my curiosity is somewhat entertaining.”

“Sorry,” Byleth said gently, “I guess it’s just...strange. Seeing you like this.”

The elevator doors opened with a ding, catching her attention once more. “Doors that open on their own?” she wondered, “What sort of magic is at play here?”

“No magic, just...technology,” Byleth explained. She headed into the elevator, and Edelgard hesitantly followed. She pressed the button for her floor, and the doors closed. The elevator lurched - it always did, they really needed to fix that - and Edelgard latched onto her arm almost instinctively. A blush spread across the Emperor’s face, and she quickly stepped away in embarrassment.

“S...so...” she stammered, tucking one strand of hair behind her ear as she desperately avoided eye contact, “Why did we purposely trap ourselves in this tiny room? And why does it feel like it’s moving?”

“It’s an elevator. It’s taking us up to the floor my apartment’s on,” Byleth told her, “And before you ask: no, there’s no magic involved here, either. This one’s a giant metal cable attached to this box, and it’s pulled and lowered by a giant mechanism on the top of the building.”

“...And...how high up is this floor we’re going to?”

“It’s the fourteenth.”

“...I don’t know how high that actually is but you’re telling me the thing keeping this box from crashing to the ground below is one measly cable?”

“Well, technically the cable’s not measly. And there’s a failsafe installed in every elevator, making it impossible for them to fall, even if the cable breaks.”

Edelgard was staring at her like she had grown a second head.

“Ok, elevators freaked me out at first, too. But trust me: this totally beats taking the stairs.”

The elevator doors opened, and Byleth led the way to her apartment. Upon opening the door, they were met with a cozy space. A small hallway led down to the living room, the kitchen was just off to the left, a closet to the right. There were a few dishes left piled in the sink, some books left scattered around, clothes draped over the back of the couch.

“Heh, sorry,” Byleth said sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Edelgard glanced around at the strange new setting. Her eyes settled on the large windows in the living room, her feet taking her over without even realizing it. Byleth followed, watching closely. The Emperor gazed over her former home, seemingly sprawling in every direction as far as the eye could see. The sun had just set, with a few traces of twilight still in the inky sky. But the city had become alive in the darkness, millions of lights from windows and streets forming a completely new metropolis.

“The view’s even better from out here,” Byleth offered, sliding the balcony door open and gesturing out.

Edelgard seemed hesitant, but she wordlessly followed and stepped out onto the balcony, moving to the railing as she once more took in the sights with an unreadable expression. Eventually though, her eyes trained downward, and she realized just how tall fourteen floors really was. “Oh Goddess, we’re high,” she gasped backing as far from the railing as she could get.

Byleth chuckled. “Believe it or not, there’s still another ten floors to this building, too,” she said lightly.

“How were they able to construct a building so tall?” Edelgard demanded, “I don’t think even the tallest spire at Garreg Mach could reach this height.”

“No, it was...actually pretty short by today’s standards,” Byleth admitted, “They figured out how to build tall and skinny buildings by utilizing steel and concrete.” She paused. “Ok, I realize that probably doesn’t explain much. Just...just trust me: tall buildings like this are the norm now.”

“O...ok,” Edelgard stammered. Her eyes darted out to the view for a moment. “It...it is a nice view, but I think I’d like to go back inside now.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Byleth agreed, “Come on. I’ll show you the guest room.”

Byleth gave Edelgard a quick tour of the apartment, concluding in the second bedroom. Edelgard had been strangely quiet for the whole tour, and now stood awkwardly near the bed, glancing around the room with mild uncertainty. Byleth decided to give her a little space, so she headed out to the linen closet.

When she returned, Edelgard had taken a seat on the bed, and was staring down at her hands.

“Ok, so here are some towels. If you like, I can show you how to get a shower going. And I’ll grab some of my old clothes, too. If you’d like to change out of that dress,” Byleth stated, hoping her hospitality would help the Emperor adjust, “And are you hungry? I don’t really have a whole lot of food right now, but I can order something. Maybe some Almyran? Or Duscurian? Oh! I know a place that does really good Brigid-spiced chicken.”

Edelgard sighed, unable to meet Byleth’s eyes. “There are...many things I don’t understand,” she admitted, “I think...it’s all starting to hit me. But the strangest thing isn’t that I’ve been transported into the future.” She gulped nervously, and finally looked up. “It’s that you’ve been so kind to me.”

Something clamped around Byleth’s heart and refused to let go. She carefully headed over and took a seat on the bed next to the Emperor. “I’m...I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I suppose the change must feel quite sudden for you. But...I’ve had many years to think about what I did... How I treated you...”

“We were on opposing sides of a war. It seems like only a few hours ago I was waiting for your army to break down my door and for us to engage in our final battle,” Edelgard uttered, “It was, for me. I was prepared to die by your blade... And you were prepared to do it.”

Byleth grimaced. “I...did do it,” she confessed, running a hand through her hair to push her bangs out of her face, “I... Goddess, Edelgard, I... I split your skull open.”

“I suppose I should thank you for being quick about it,” Edelgard commented grimly, “I wonder if that’s why it seems I suddenly appeared here, as if nothing had happened.”

“You came here the moment you died...” Byleth muttered, “But...why?”

Edelgard frowned, clearly thinking about it. “I’m...not sure,” she eventually admitted, “This certainly wasn’t any trick of mine. By the time we fought, I just wanted to... Never mind.” She drew a deep breath, and Byleth could practically see her shoving those negative thoughts and emotions away. She cast Byleth a small smile, and said, “I’m just...glad it was you who found me, Professor.”

“I... Me too.” Byleth returned the smile with one of her own. She then got up, offering a hand to the Emperor. “Well, you probably want to get cleaned up. I’ll show you how to work the shower.”

“...Is there some sort of device that makes it rain indoors?”

“Well...sort of.”

-- -- --

“Ok, so you’ve got hot and cold water,” Byleth said, pointing to two nobs imbedded into the tiled wall, “You pull this little lever all the way up to turn on the shower. You kind of have to give it a good tug - it sticks sometimes.” She then motioned to the various bottles on the wall. “You can also use the shampoo and conditioner - make sure you use both, and in that order. I don’t know why, to be honest, that’s just how they make them. And soap is there.”

Edelgard followed along intently, still mesmerized by the strange room Byleth had led her to. The tub and sink were simple white, with silver fixtures that magically distributed water whenever it was desired. Byleth insisted it wasn’t magic, but... Come on. Something had to be magic in this world, right? There was also this strange, porcelain seat that Byleth had to awkwardly explain, too.

Eventually, Byleth left her alone for some privacy. And she was met with her first real challenge of this new world: taking a shower.

She hadn’t realized just how badly she had lost that fight until she started removing her mangled dress and armour. Her hair was practically tied to her crown, and it took a good twenty minutes just to be free of the heavy golden contraption. Removing the rest of her armour was easier, and it wasn’t long before she had stripped down to just her underclothes. She decided to wait until she got the shower working before discarding them, just in case she needed to call Byleth.

She turned one of the nobs on the wall, and water started to flow out of the large spout into the tub. She then tugged on the lever, and the water stopped. There was a beat, and then it started to flow out of another spout mounted higher on the wall, pouring out in multiple little streams as if it were a heavy downpour.

“Huh. So it does make it rain indoors,” she mused.

She then removed the rest of her clothing, and tentatively stepped into the shower.

COLD

She yelped in immediate surprise, and almost slipped on the smooth surface of the tub, only just managing to catch herself on the metal bar with a curtain suspended over the top. Probably for just such a purpose. She scooted away from the frigid water as much as she could.

What did Byleth say again? The other nob must be for the hot water. She bit her lip and lunged into the cold water, grabbing the hot water dial and cranking it as far as it would go.

There was a brief moment when the shower was perfect. Then...

HOT

She yelped again, once more fleeing the water before her skin began to burn.

Why in Sothis’ name would Byleth have such a torture device in her home? And supposedly use it regularly?

“Edelgard?” Byleth called after knocking on the door, “You ok in there?”

“Y...yes, my teacher!” she called back, too proud to admit this stupid shower was besting her.

“You have to balance the temperature,” Byleth shouted, “Don’t turn both nobs up all the way! Try just turning them both a little at a time until the water’s warm.”

Edelgard huffed, but set about it. Rather than diving back into the boiling water, she hopped out of the tub and approached from the side. Eventually, after much trial and error, she managed to get the water to an appropriate temperature.

And only then did she start appreciating it. To think: just having constant hot or cold water on demand! No servants or fire spells necessary. She could feel the warm water and steam washing away all the sweat and grime and blood from her body and it felt so relaxing.

She supposed it was time for to wash her hair. The shampoo bottle said it was fragranced to smell like cucumber and green tea, and was supposed to make hair shiny and soft. She followed the instructions carefully, and only cursed the stuff once when some of it got in her eye. She did the same for the conditioner, and before she was even out of the shower she could tell this stuff was going to do wonders for her hair. She had never felt it so sleek and smooth before.

She had at least experienced soap before, and found herself relieved to find something she was familiar with.

Once finished she turned the water off and reached for the towels Byleth had provided. She returned to her room to find Byleth had left a small pile of folded clothes on the bed. It felt...strange, to wear her old teacher’s clothes. But she had no desire to wear her dirty battledress again, so she reached for a shirt on the top of the pile.

Byleth had just ordered that chicken from the Brigidian food place, and was anxiously pacing back and forth in her living room, ears trained for any sign of distress. Nothing too catastrophic came from the bathroom, but Byleth still guessed she’d likely have to take a mop to it once Edelgard was done.

Speaking of, the former Emperor of Fodlan entered the living room, hair still wet but brushed and free from any intricate hairstyle. Byleth couldn’t hold back the smile spreading on her lips, though, much to Edelgard’s annoyance. The smaller woman was practically swimming in Byleth’s old clothes. The legs of the sweatpants bunched up around her feet, and the blue, red, and yellow sweatshirt was at least two sizes too big, with sleeves going well past her hands and it being so long it could count as a dress.

“Ok, we’ll go out clothes shopping for you in the morning,” she stated, still unable to stop her grin.

Edelgard nodded, glancing down at her new borrowed wardrobe. “I have to admit... These are strange clothes, even if they did fit me,” she said, “What does ‘GMU’ stand for?”

“Garreg Mach University,” Byleth replied, “I, uh, thought it was fitting.”

“So it’s a university now?” Edelgard wondered.

“Yeah, I was a prof there in another life. I wanted to try teaching again,” Byleth told her casually, “It’s...different when it’s actual academic stuff and not military training.”

Edelgard chuckled at that. “I can imagine... No offence, but you were never really good at that side of teaching,” she said.

“None taken. I know I was bad at all that school stuff. But I got better.”

They fell into somewhat of an awkward silence, Edelgard taking in some of the details of Byleth’s apartment she missed earlier, and Byleth unsure of where to go from there. Eventually, she gestured to the couch. “You’re welcome to take a seat!” she suggested, “Dinner’s on the way. But I can make us a snack in the meantime, if you like.”

“That...sounds nice, my Teacher,” Edelgard said as she hesitantly made her way over to the couch. As she got herself comfortable, Byleth headed into the kitchen to throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

It only just started popping when she noticed Edelgard in the kitchen entrance. She glanced at the microwave, that inquisitive stare back on her face. “Is that...”

“It’s not magic, I’m afraid,” Byleth said before the thought could be finished.

Edelgard frowned. “Is anything magic in this world anymore?” she asked, a hint of worry beginning to show through.

“Not really. Well, technically, yes,” Byleth said, “A lot of the technology nowadays was inspired by the magic we knew. Some of it even still uses magic, but not to the same degree we needed it before. It makes it more accessible, especially since not everyone was skilled in magic.”

“I...see...”

The popcorn finished up, then, and Byleth fished it out of the microwave. She dumped the bag into a large bowl, then offered it to Edelgard. “Well, here you go: your first modern food,” she said with a smile.

Edelgard glanced down at the popcorn with skepticism written all over her face. She delicately selected a single puffy piece from the bowl, eyes narrowing as she closely inspected it. Eventually, she finally popped it in her mouth.

Her eyes widened almost instantly. Byleth couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“You lied,” Edelgard breathed, taking another few pieces of popcorn eagerly, “This food is proof magic is still alive and well in Fodlan!”

[dracanianwyvern]

I also find it funny that the one anon on the ask blog is [seemingly] trying to get this ghost child to calm his ass down with what seems like some to little experience in actually calimg somebody down.

You go Chano, I believe in you.

i find it a little funny that SBNS's "starter plot" is that the caretakers and other Heroes r absolutely shaken up and honestly kinda depressed BUT MEANWHILE Tsavorite's just having the time of his life with his newest bestie

[dalishious]

how does ur adaar feel about solas? i'm trying to envision a scenario where that balcony scene DOESN'T end with any adaar punting him over the railing and coming up short lmao. did that moment change her opinion of him or solidify it?

“What were you like before the Anchor?” When Solas asked for a moment of privacy, Taam was not expecting that question. If anything, she was preparing to defend her relationship with Sera yet again. Taam looked down at the mark in question, and let it drop to the balcony railing, as Solas continued. “Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your... spirit?” “No,” Taam answered plainly. “Wait,” she added, to which Solas perked up to full attention, “I think I may have gotten taller. Either that, or Skyhold’s design really puts two metres into perspective.” Taam bent over in order to lean on the railing for effect, but Solas simply pursed his lips, unamused. “Jest as you will, you show a wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected.” “What have I done that's so surprising?” “Qunari are savage creatures, their ferocity held in check only by the rigid teachings of the Qun. But you have shown a subtlety in your actions. A wisdom that goes against everything I know of your people,” Solas said with a smile. Taam did not reciprocate the grin. She stood up straight again and crossed her arms, looking down at the little man intensely. “I guess what you’ve been taught has some holes in it.” “I have seen enough of the world to know I was not misinformed. Most people are small... petty. But not you.” “Get out.” Solas balked, his genuine surprise only infuriating Taam all the more. “Excuse me?” “Get off my balcony. Before my savage ferocity throws you off it.” “Inquisitor, it was a compliment,” Solas shook his head. He truly did not seem to understand how horrible what he just said was. “You call my entire race savage creatures, and instead of apologizing for being wrong, you insist I am some exception? What part of that do you call a compliment, Solas?” He looked down, and Taam assumed he was considering what she had to say. Instead, Solas shook his head, and looked back up stony-faced. “I only wished to say I respect you deeply, Inquisitor. You do not know the world as I do, seen it as I have... in the Fade. It was a compliment. One day, you will understand.” Taam opened her mouth, but Solas continued before she could speak. “But I have disturbed you enough for one evening.”

Taam’s eyes trailed his departure, until Solas descended down the stairs of her tower. As she heard him close the door, Sera rolled out from under the bed and bounced on top of it. “Right, enough of that shite,” she said. “You okay, Tadwinks?” Taam came in from the balcony and plopped down in Sera’s lap, who immediately pulled Taam’s ponytail loose and started running her fingers through the thick white hair. “I respect you deeply, Inquisitor,” she quoted Solas in an exaggerated imitation of his voice. “Really? Then fucking act like it!” “Never fun, getting called the wrong kind of person. Just ignore him,” Sera said, and leaned over to place a kiss on Taam’s forehead. “Oh, better yet, I just got a brilliant idea for what we can do with that wyvern spit your research-y people didn’t want...” Taam felt a slight grin slide across her face.

[veiledfox]

The Kitsune’s Dangerous Experiment: Day 2

Trigger Warnings for: vomitting, blood, self-harm, body horror. Portions marked with ----- both before and after

Extra: 1 Meter = 39.37 Inches / 3.28 Feet / 1 Yard

A part of her didn’t want to continue these tests. Remembering the discomfort and pain she had felt in that fourth layer, and that hallucination of distorted laughter. She didn’t get much rest the night after, even with being back home and safe from the Abyss’ curse. Having had to more or less argue with herself after she woke up on whether or not to return today or wait for another day.

Yet here she was, descending through the Abyss once more. Though, this time, she had packed a little lighter to make travel easier, while still having what she’d need to protect herself. Having her pouches of ammunition, with Quad-Rail strung over her shoulder. A small flare gun holstered on her hip, with a pouch cartridges varying from standard flares for light, to smoke-screens to provide cover or distractions. 

Though she wouldn’t take her Wyvern form this time, no, she was taking her time. Having used the early night to sneak through the southern district of Orth to find one of the many delving points that had been established outside the Delver’s Guild. Took her drop from one of them, she conjured the magick platforms beneath her feet twenty meters down, and continued leaping down further and further by twenty meters each time. 

With how she had begun her descent earlier in the night this time than the last, she had to fend off a few predatory avian creatures. Thankfully nothing like a Crimson Splitjaw, or a Madokajack. Managing to get through the first and second layers, and finding herself progressing down the third like the day prior. Quad-Rail at the ready, it’s rings alight with rocks set within each, as extra precaution. 

Last she was here she had heard the Crimson Splitjaw stirring somewhere out of sight. Muffled noises, was all she got at the time, but she didn’t see one show itself. Something she had to be thankful for, when she really thought about it, but here and now there was another chance. One for it to, this time, go wrong if it was still out and about. It was already about an hour or so earlier in the night than it was last time.

If there was a time it would still be moving about, it was likely now more than any other. So she took this slower now than the time before. Instead of jumping down to try and rush through, especially after having suffered the effects of the curse within the first and second layer, she was walking at a brisk pace. Using her magick to condense the invisible platforms beneath her feet, and using them like a staircase, running round and round the Great Fault’s wall in her descent.

She could hear some light flapping of wings this visit, every few minutes. Each time looking above and spotting some Hammerbeaks returning to their nests to slumber. Having held her breath each time, however, and letting them free with relieved sighs when it turned out to be the harmless creatures of flight that inhabited the abyss’ upper layers.

Kyuushi pushed onward after each interruption of sleepy Hammerbeaks above. After a half hour or so, and another hundred meters or so down into the Fault, she would be interrupted by a Hammerbeak again. Though this time the bird flew right beside her a brief moment, sharing a brief glance with her, where it would give a quiet squawk, then continue down past her toward it’s nest. She would watch it briefly, spotting a second reaching it’s head out to greet them. A mate. 

The sight brought a little smile across Kyuushi’s face, and improved her mood a tad. Encouraging her to put a little more pep to her step, and reach the bottom of the Fault to progress into the Goblets sooner. Picking up her pace a little, while still doing her best to ensure she kept her breathing in check, and didn’t let anything on her person rattle about too much.

She would reach the last hundred meters without any more interruptions. Able to spot the indent within the wall where she had stopped and tested this layer’s curse along the way. Now spotting the bottom edge of the vertical drop that was the third layer, and the hints of the Goblets within the fourth below. 

Continuing on, she would find herself pausing, hearing a shifting sound somewhere. It sounded almost like it was beside her, beyond the surface of the wall to her right, Though as she turned her gaze toward it, she would just barely catch the sight of the large beak dropping past her view, scrapping along the wall now and then as it spun wildly with it’s momentum. Every few seconds or so leaving traces of blood across the wall.

“Shit-” Cursing out, she doesn’t hesitate one bit before leaping away from the wall toward the center of the gaping maw that was the Great Fault. Seeing a rush of red soar down, right past where she had been. Following it with her eyes, the shape and the vestigial stalks confirmed her fears. A Crimson Splitjaw, Four-Star danger class, deadly, attacks delvers on sight.

The serpent like creature, it’s wide hood extended to surf the unseen winds of the Abyss itself, was following the head of the Hammerbeak that had plummeted past her. Catching up to, and swallowing it whole, before the beast would swirl about. It’s vestigial eyes twitching to recognize the Kitsune amid the air in the center of the Great Fault, before it gives out guttural cries of aggression.

Spiraling into it’s ascent towards her to attack, she’s given little time to jump out of the way, and quickly pull at the ring on her weapon’s bowstring to prime, and launch the four rocks at the beast. Hearing it screech out in pain as, with having lead her shot into it’s path, the rocks pierced into the creature’s side. Sending the Splitjaw recoiling in pain and growing anger as it would circle above and ready to attack her again.

Quickly using the brief moment as it recoiled, she began descending again. Now leaping from random point to random point with varying distances between each. Doing her best to keep her movements random and unpredictable to the creature while loading four more stones into the rings of Quad-Rail. Hearing the constant noises the wart-riddled monstrosity made growing closer and closer with each second, her ears twitching rapidly to keep track. 

Eventually she would fit the last rock in, and launch herself forward from her most recent platform. Hearing the rush of the Crimson creature bursting past behind her, and an angered cry from it as it immediately swerves to try for her again. Though this time, Kyuushi takes a risk.

Knowing the beast would be smart enough to go for where she was just finding purchase with her feet, thanks to how swiftly she knew it turned, she wouldn’t jump any horizontal direction or let herself drop. Having avoided one of these before, she knew it’d be fast enough to catch her in any such direction. 

Instead, she would leap upward, and backward. Putting enough strength into her jump that she would keep under the twenty meters that was her limit in ascending by a good distance, and spinning herself mid jump to get sight of the beast. It’s large form could turn fast, but with the angle she knew it was going to try for her at, she knew that her jump would get it not only above, but behind it with the distance she aimed for. This making it have to turn in a way that it had a harder time in doing to try and get her, in turn slowing it down.

This would allow her to fire at it again with Quad-rail, this time aiming for one of it’s vestigial eye stalks so that, at the very least, one of the rocks would hit it. Drawing the bowstring by the ring at it’s center, the light shafts connecting to it, they collapse with a dull thump of force sending the four stones rocketing to the beast. 

The top right most would hit it’s stalk, her mark, though it was at it’s edge. Just a little too far over that, with the placement of the rocks, aside from the cut through a lower section it was missed completely. Still, the projectiles would pierce into the body of her opponent, making the Crimson Splitjaw shift course and writhe about in pain.

All the while the Kitsune lets herself drop a distance. Catching herself upon her magick about another thirty meters below, and glancing beyond. From a simple glance as this, it seemed to her that there was maybe thirteen meters left before she would exit the third layer. Continuing her progress down once again in her random movements hearing the creature shriek out above her, and the rush of wind from it beginning to dive to try and get her.

Unlike the time before, now Kyuushi would retrieve an arrowhead from the respective pouch on her waist. A single arrowhead, readying it into the top left ring of her weapon, seeing the blue light take around it’s central base. Continuing to descend while she readied her next shot, and even called upon her magicks to produce the sound of a separate Splitjaw farther above the one pursuing her.

She can hear the moment the one chasing her down hesitates and moves to check behind itself for the other of it’s species. In the same instance turning around after planting herself on a platform. Raising her bow, she aims the shot, draws the string back, and lets it loose in mere seconds. 

The more aerodynamic shape of the arrowhead letting it soar through the air, this time severing the stalk as a whole and piercing not only into, but through the Splitjaw’s maw. Hearing a high ting a second after, one that she could recall as the distinctive sound of one of her arrowheads hitting the stone wall of the Abyss. Though, from her experience last time, she knew that would mean the arrowhead couldn’t be retrieved. She’d need to replace it later.

Her opponent was reeling from the dismemberment and the piercing hit straight through it. Screeching out in agony and rage while beginning to circle and swerve about within the air. Likely, it was trying to orient itself and pinpoint her once again, using it’s brief confusion to swiftly continue down, and towards the lip that is the end of the third layer. 

Again she would hear the beast making it’s guttural sounds as she gets past the bottom edge of the Great Fault, continuing past it and getting the widely expanding ceiling of the fourth layer above her. Still hearing the beast making it’s noises, she turns to look to the opening that was the way out of the third layer to watch for the creature.

Just in time to see the red serpent come rushing down with a shriek, going past where she was and down into the Goblets of Giants. Furiously swirling and spinning to find Kyuushi, who was readying rocks into the rings of Quad-Rail yet again. Taking small leaps to get herself farther down, while keeping distance from the beast as it kept trying to find her.

It was about a minute after that the creature seemed to finally catch onto her again. Turning sharply with a growl as it faced her. Opening it’s maw to let out a horrid, angry shriek, she can see it bare it’s two large fangs in it’s anger. Quickly beginning it’s approach toward her, this time with such energy behind it’s movements to drive forward and try to consume her. 

Raising her Artifact, she aimed at the fast approaching Crimson Splitjaw, facing down it’s opening maw bravely, though her heart was quickly racing with anxiety. Letting the wart-riddled thing grow closer, and closer, getting within range for her to smell the rot on it’s breath. Widening it’s maw almost to an impossible degree, about to bite down over her and consume her whole. 

The instant it’s maw got close enough that she could be enveloped by it, she would swiftly jump back, watching it’s mouth snap shut with a rush of wind from the speed it did. Jumping forward this time, getting on top of it’s head as it realized it missed her, and recovered from shutting it’s jaws so fast. A hesitation in it’s movements which let her swivel on her heel and line up a quick shot of the loaded rocks against her foe.

With her proximity and angle, two projectiles shot straight through the stalk of the beast’s remaining vestigial eye. Them, with the other two, continuing to pierce into the monstrosity's head. Something which she quickly follows up, by bringing both her hands to the Bow’s grip, and plunging the bottom bladed tip into the creature beneath her. 

Keeping the blade embedded a moment, feeling it’s body lurch in attempt to shake her off. Taking the next opportunity available to pull it free, and stab down into the creature again, and again. One last time piercing it’s flesh with another downward thrust to embed it once more, feeling the thing begin a downward trajectory. Riding it as it swirled in it’s plummeting, until coming upon and crashing down onto one of the Flat-creepers of the fourth layer.

Yet, while glad she had grounded the beast for now, a new worry would rise quickly. With the steam of the heated waters surrounding them, visibility was hindered. On top of this, the lifeforms that made up these ‘Goblets’ were sometimes taken as territory by another threat. One that she understood was much worse than the Crimson Splitjaw she stood atop while it wriggled about, trying to gather itself.

Orbpiercers. The first of the Abyss’ beasts that Delvers would likely come across, which had an odd ability to, from what it seemed, sense the future. Capable of predicting the movements of it’s prey or the intruders of it’s territory. A creature with quills sharp enough to pierce metals of the Abyss itself, and coated with a nasty poison. They were beasts of five-star rating in danger levels, ranking among the absurd, while the serpent she had downed for the moment was merely listed as ‘deadly’.

Thankfully she already had a plan forming as she twists Quad-Rail a bit, turning the blade still within a fresh wound on the Crimson Splitjaw. The action making it screech out in agony, the sound echoing through the cavernous layer of the Abyss. Though it would also make the beast flail about more beneath the Kitsune, nearly managing to force her off before she removes herself from it. Watching it slither forward some among the shallow waters, and raise it’s bleeding head to hiss at her.

 In the next second, it’s large form was lunging for her, leading Kyuushi to launch herself backward from it. This wouldn’t avoid the creature’s assault entirely, but it would at least keep her from being consumed by it right away. Continuing her back-pedal like movement to keep ahead of it, just by inches at the least and a foot at most. 

Though with the splashing each time she landed and kicked off from the plant below them, and the rapid sloshing of water from the serpent chasing her, she couldn’t hear what she was hoping for. A distant splash among the water, the approach of some other thing, the charge of one of the Orbpiercers into the side of the Splitjaw with it being the bigger threat.

A glance behind amid her retreat would show the mist parting way and giving sight to the edge of her current platform approaching. An edge she’d need to utilize against the slithering beast in front of her if an Orbpiercer truly wasn’t present on this plant-top. Something that ruined the plan that had come to mind, but wouldn’t be a bad result overall.

Using her next leap backward to turn herself and catch into a hard sprint. Able to access more of her speed in doing so, she begins to gain distance from the Crimson Splitjaw. Rushing to the edge ahead of her, and leaping the distance and drop down to the next one in her sight. Hearing the splashing water behind her cease and the tell-tale sound of the serpent spreading it’s hood to take flight. and glide behind her.

This thing was truly persistent with her, and she was down to keep letting it chase her as long as she could keep ahead and moving downward. Which, with the pace she was reaching, and a quick look behind her, she knew would be possible. Able to keep away from the lesser threat as much as she could need, as long as she didn’t come face to face with the bigger.

Kyuushi knew, however, that her only caveat to this would be that she couldn’t turn at any point as long as the serpent was behind her. Any divertion from her patch would give it ample chance to close the distance and consume her the instant she had another blunder. Her only chance to change course would be if she were to swing herself beneath the current Flat-creeper she was dashing her way across. 

She wouldn’t be allowed the chance to think about such thing, however, catching sight of white spikes being thrust toward her. The abrupt nature of this forward assault  caught her off guard, but her flexibility and agility allowed Kyuushi to drop into a slide under what she would confirm to be an Orbpiercer. The large white mass passing over her while she slid under and past, hearing the wet squelching and gushing of the piercier spearing the Crimson Splitjaw behind her.

Not one second would be allowed for her to stop, however, getting back to her feet and continuing her sprint she could already hear the the new threat beginning it’s chase. Best chance she had to get away now would be to use her flare gun, slinging Quad-Rail over her shoulder and retrieving the small firearm from it’s holster. She retrieves a cartridge for a pure smokescreen, loading it in as she begins to near the edge of the current plant platform, firing at the lip which sends it recoiling backward, and into the air above her. 

The wildly spinning cartrige spews smoke around itself and surrounds the immediate area near Kyuushi with this veil. She wasn’t sure this would even work to disorient a beast that can somehow sense the near future and predict her actions, but she hoped, and kept her pace. Hearing some form of deviation in the movements of the Orbpiercer unseen behind her.

Seeing the lip grow ever closer, she readied herself to leap off to the next Flat-creeper, but as the mist and smoke gave way to the sight of it, she immediately began to feel panic fill her. The next pad in her trajectory was thirty meters up. Not like she couldn’t clear that jump, she was a mythical being herself after all. Here in the Abyss, however, she immediately recalled the events of her test the day prior and felt her stomach drop.

It was almost like the Abyss itself could sense she was needing to cross to the next platform. As the moment she could register how much higher it was, she could feel that pressure of the curse already weighing down on her. Unlike yesterday, however, she would heed it’s command, listen to it’s suggestions to go lower, though at this point she had little idea what she would find for footing beyond aside from that which she could make with her magicks. 

Leaping a little early, she just barely clears the edge of the Flat-creeper she was on. Hearing the splash of water, and feeling it rain down on her, from the Orbpiercer having slid to a stop up above. Having left the Flat-creeper it is on, it no longer deemed her a threat to it’s territory. Finally allowing her a chance to take a breath, dropping a little further before she catches herself on some magick formed platforms, getting a moment to store her flare gun.

Spotting another Flat-creeper a short distance below and to the side, she decides on avoiding it. Jumping down past it with a few hops and continuing on below. Still doing her best to gather herself again, to breathe and calm her heart from the chase she had just escaped from.

Able to take her time now, though as she proceeded down in a slow, comfortable pace, progressing away from the Flat-creepers. Eventually she coming across the sight of the scorched hills of the Garden of the Flowers of Resilience. A place she had come across each time she’s descended into the fifth layer, though the times she did was few and far between. 

Twice she’d come here, and seen the beauty that was the countless white flowers. One of the hills marked with a gravestone of sorts in the form of a large pickaxe the first time she ever saw this place. The second, it was gone, then the third... the hills were being set ablaze. Flames and smoke billowing up, consuming the air that filled the central shaft of the Abyss. This was her first time returning since, and to see it all blackened and scorched... it hurt her a little.

Still, she would have to press on, to pass through to the fifth layer, the sea of corpses, and find herself somewhere to conduct her experiment. Somewhere that was away from the Idofront, where the Sovereign of Dawn resided. She wouldn’t be entirely free of his watch, or that of his Umbral Hands, but she could at least try her best to conduct her experiment in peace. At least... as much peace as she could manage within this deep a layer.

Looking down through the opening which would lead her into the fifth layer, she can just barely spot the light of the Idofront far in the distance below. Though before that, nearly a full thousand meters of pockets of water, each one massive, deep, often lined with sandstone, or otherwise with the usual rocky flooring of the Abyss itself. She would simply just proceed down, but in the same moment as she saw the next layer she recalled some new information that had been recovered. 

A delivery balloon had been recovered some dozen visits to this Abyss or so prior. One supposedly from near the seventh layer itself, the very depths of this cursed, yet always oddly beautiful, pit into the planet. Written by one of the White Whistles of the Delver’s Guild, one “Lord of Annihilation”, or Lyza the Annihilator. Pages within the package the balloon carried telling of the most present predator within the Sea of Corpses, large seven-tailed Scorpions with acidic venom.

Such creatures, according to the information received, made their nests within areas of sandstone which smelled of dried vomit being burned, and that had been discolored due to their acid. Thus ruling out a great many spots she could see right away, though she could see a few potential places for her to go to conduct her test. The only issue would be that, either way she looked at it, she’d likely need to take a dip into one of these pockets of ocean to manage a twenty meter ascent to test the curse’s effects against herself.

After a few minutes of looking, however, she does manage to spot a good location. One where it was mostly the standard rock of the Abyss, with some sandstone closer to the waters themselves. Though the sandstone looked to be that of it’s standard coloration, a pale sandy look to the floor right at the edge of the pocket of water that it held. The location looked mostly flat, maybe a five meter incline, but there were a few larger rocks she could spot closer to the wall of the Abyss.

Stepping off from the sort of cliff she had been surveying from, she begins her descent to this spotted zone. A small area which, while not guaranteed, should provide the space and safety she’d like to have, knowing full well what this layer’s level of the curse would cause upon her. Finding her feet touching down upon the ground below, just a few feet away from the waters she’d need to dive into, a couple minutes later.

Turning away from the portion of the Sea of Corpses, Kyuushi turns to look to the rocks she had spotted earlier. Heading to the one farthest back, a large stone which seemed to connect the wall to the ground, she would nod to herself. The space beneath the stone would be adequate to safely store her equipment, and to keep it out of her hands for when she ascends.

Removing Quad-Rail from her shoulder, she slips it beneath the stone, before removing her belt and it’s contents of her ammunition and her holstered flare gun, and doing the same. Setting everything else beneath, atop of her bow, and ensuring it would be generally hidden from plain sight. She didn’t want it stolen, of course, though knowing the nature of the few Delvers who had black whistles such as herself, they rarely ever came down here. Not only that, but she doubted one of the Umbral Hands would ascend from the Idofront to where she was.

The only chance she had of being interrupted at this point would be by the Stingerheads, as the Annihilator called them, or by the “Lord of Dawn” himself, Bondrewd the Novel. The first, she couldn’t smell any nearby hint of dried, burning vomit nearby. Some faint hints of it from farther away, but nothing close to her current location. The later threat, however, she doubted would be an issue after the events that had occurred just some time ago. 

He seemed oddly incapable of just dying off, but at the same time, he was still subject to the curse most of the time. Ascending the nearly nine-hundred meters she was sure still lay between herself and the Idofront where he resided, didn’t seem to be something worth his time. Even if he knew of her true nature, she was sure he would likely not risk the ascent, with his unclear methods of negating the curse or not. If he even had any of those cartridges of his left.

So Kyuushi could feel at least a little more comfortable, with the knowledge that she wouldn’t be interrupted by anything but herself. The best kind of situation which she could be in, given the effects of the curse this deep. Complete sensory deprivation, causing confusion, and behavior that often leads to self-harm. A curse which she felt much safer experiencing when she didn’t have her weapon hanging on her shoulder, especially with it’s bladed portions.

She would also remove her jacket, and the larger pants she had on over some shorts and leggings. It was generally a good idea to wear layers within the Abyss, after all. Provided protection and warmth, as despite the odd atmosphere of the Abyss dragging sunlight down over 20,000-meters into the planet, it could still be rather cold. Even more so around this layer with all it’s fossil-riddled bodies of water. The fifth layer was named the “Sea of Corpses” for a reason.

Having set her removed clothing with her equipment, she stands and turns to the waters again. Taking a moment to practice her breathing, utilizing Total Concentration Breathing once more. Calming her heart from it’s climbing, anxious pace, and collecting herself to ready for this. Only beginning toward the water’s edge minutes after her first breath.

Standing at the edge, looking into the depths, she takes a deep breath and makes a small leap forward. Straightening her body out, and plunging down into the water. Letting herself sink, lower, and lower, and lower. Only able to see darkness surrounding her when her eyes opened, though looking beyond her feet would show the faint form of bone remains of some kind. Though she couldn’t let herself get distracted trying to figure out what they belonged to, beyond the fact they didn’t look human.

A little farther down, just a short distance more, she was sure she’d reach her twenty-meter distance. Though it was a little difficult to tell with how little she could see of anything. Including the light from above the surface when looking up again, though she could spot what she assumed was the edge of the water where the land took hold. Something she’d have to aim for, after turning to face the wall of this pocket of water.

One minute, she had been sinking into this cold wet water before finally feeling she had descended far enough for her test. Finally shifting her body from it’s straightened position to begin swimming toward the surface. Knowing full well that she’d need to climb out onto dry land, and stay low while getting as far from the water as possible once she had ascended. Though a part of her worried she’d have the curse hit her on the way up, due to the uncertainty of how far she had gone down.

-----

It seemed to be about half way into her return to the surface when the telltale sensation of the curse wanting to effect her shook her body with a shiver. An issue which made her worry worsen, but she would push on as much as she could. Increasing her pace a little in the process.

Eight meters.

Five meters. 

Two meters.

One meter, Kyuushi felt her hands and feet beginning to numb, and her head beginning to spin, some panic settling in almost immediately. Pushing the last of the distance she needed to get out of the water. Barely able to feel the ground as her hands met it, and subsequently feeling her arms and legs grow rather weak as she pulled herself onto land. Only for the world to spin around her as she begins trying to get as far from the water as possible.

She couldn’t hear herself breathing, but could vaguely feel herself starting to gasp for air. Only the most vague sensation of her throat tightening, of the pain surging through her body. Barely catching the sight of blood spilling from her mouth as her body convulses, before she can get too far, and her sight began to darken. 

Unable to feel or hear, and her sight dimming so severely, she forced her body best she could with the whole of it numb and throbbing in pain. Getting that little bit farther from the water that was possible, before everything felt like it gave out. Her body, unaware to herself, collapsing. Though naturally turning to it’s side, though she’d feel like her body was floating... why was it floating?

What was she doing in this place, why was she so far down, why was she growing cold. Was she on stable ground, or maybe she was sinking into the waters and that was why she could hardly breathe? She was testing something, right? That was her whole reasoning for this, her drive for coming... back... today? Was it today? She was here yesterday, she was sure of that, right? Or was that tomorrow? What... was she... w-was she a Human? The curse only effected Humans, right? She had to be if she was suffering from it... but she had ears and tails of a Fox.

Was she even awake... Ky-... Kyuushi was her name, right? She couldn’t tell whether she was awake or not, If she was still whole, herself entirely. The Woman could only feel like she was just... existing. In a form she couldn’t comprehend in the moment, or was it minutes by now? Hours? How long has she been suffering this... thing, whatever this was. 

A ringing in her ears would wake the... Kitsune, yes, she is a Kitsune, and her name’s Kyuushi. How long had she been out? Her body felt stiff... felt, it felt, she could feel again. Stiff, her face sticky, her head... absolutely pounding. Even after having removed herself from the Abyss for a day. Right, that was yesterday, at least, she was sure it was? The curse had still hit her this hard. 

The question returned, how long had she been down from the curse. Trying to move her body, to open her eyes, she is briefly stalled and blinded by what little light she could register. Seeing her arms in front of herself, her lower with it’s sleeve reddened from blood. Though... she couldn’t see properly. Couldn’t even open one eye, her lower eye to see her arm better. 

Moving her arm, she quite slowly brings her hand to feel over her face. Touching mostly dried, still rather sticky substance more or less sealing her eye shut. It became clear to her almost immediately that it was her blood. Urging her to sit up and try to feel over her head for the source. Bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mouth was expected from the prior tests, as much as she could remember in the moment, but those wouldn’t cause this. 

Her right ear felt clear, so did most of the right side of her face, beyond the expected spaces. It would only be as she feels above her left eye, over her forehead, that she could feel a small wound breaking her skin. Clearly the cause of how badly her face was covered in blood, but the question that came to her throbbing head was... why?

Looking over the ground around herself, she would notice a smaller rock coated with the crimson from her head that was just beside where her head had been laid. Giving her her answer rather quickly, she was glad for that, but as she tried to take in the rest of her surroundings, she couldn’t see too much... it was darker than she last remembered.

She had fallen unconscious, from what she could piece together. Having crawled about four or five feet from the water before her body gave out, and she hit her head against the stone coated red. On one hand, it made her worry a little on how her brain was handling the impact. On the other, she was simply glad she didn’t do more horridly dangerously things, because she had lost consciousness so soon.

The taste of iron came to her tongue now, her senses all back at last, the numbness and pain across her body subsiding, no longer dizzy or nauseous. She was simply just... sore from it all, and having slumbered atop hard, cold ground. It must have been an hour or two at least, if not more. Which she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was or not, but she could figure the specifics out later on. 

-----

Right now, she was remembering her clothing and equipment. Struggling to her hands and knees first to try and move in general. Able to get closer to the rock she remembered she had set everything under. Eventually managing onto her feet proper, though her stomach would churn briefly once upright, but she was able to get to the wall of the Abyss beside the stone. 

A large wave of relief filling her seeing her belongings untouched. Leaning down to gather everything, and begin to hold it all tight to herself, with a hand around her Artifact’s grip. Turning her mind’s focus to calling out to the Tori Gate, wanting to return home and rest again. Feeling the gush of wind behind herself a moment after, which would prompt her to turn and take steps through an unseen opening, readying herself to catch upon her magick platforms as soon as she could once through.

Heading, like last time, immediately for the bath. Requiring a good clean more this time than she did the last. Returning to her room after, and opening her notebook to fill the fifth layer within her noted results. Laying down to let her body recover afterward.

First layer curse: dizziness and nausea after ascending ten meters.

Experienced: Light dizziness and weak beginnings of nausea after ascending twenty meters.

Additional Odd sensation causing fur to stand on end.

Second Layer Curse: Strong nausea, headaches, numbness in limbs.

Experienced: Mild dizziness, dry retching, light headache centered at the back of the head, numb hands, feet, ears, and tails.

Odd sensation from first layer returned, about 1.5x strength compared to before.

Third Layer: Vertigo, audio and visual hallucinations.

Experienced: Prior curse symptoms from the two layers above, the negatives all doubled,  headache spread to entire head, minor vertigo, audio hallucinations in the form of Mother’s giggling.

The odd sensation from the two layers above, stronger, but not oppressive, almost possessive.

Fourth Layer:  Intense pain throughout the body, and spontaneous bleeding from orifices.

Experienced: Prior symptoms of the curse, doubled in severity, gigging from Mother’s voice distorted, throbbing pain throughout the body, bloody vomitting, bleeding from the nose, minor bleeding from the eyes.

Odd sensation prior to the curse present again, likely some form of invisible layer of atmosphere or barrier within the Abyss which, in retaliation of delvers trying to ascend, retaliates with the curse.

Fifth layer: Complete sensory deprivation, causing confusion, and subsequently leading to self-harm

Experienced: Symptoms from layers one through four returned immediately, similar strength to the time prior. Loss of all senses caused hallucinated giggling to not be heard, however. All senses gone within two minutes, confusion taking hold immediately after. Fell unconscious due to body giving out and hitting head on a rock, avoiding any self-caused harm. Awakened two to three hours later.

Confirmed, odd sensation of the curse’s presence is the curse itself demanding the person suffering it to stay within the Abyss and to only proceed deeper. Goign against this by ascending, and breaking it’s ‘barrier’ in the process, causes the retaliation that is the curse itself.

Do not test sixth layer curse, under any circumstances, unless unavoidable.

[merryfortune]

mead of berries and honey

Un-Love You Challenge: 12. I’m drunk.

mead of berries and honey (little miss liquor lips)

Ship: Ethlyn/Travant

Fandom: Fire Emblem Genealogy of the Holy War (mangaverse)

Rating: M

Warnings: Choose Not to Warn

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: Canon Divergence, Dub-con, Alcohol, Abuse, Forced Relationship,

   Her perfume smelt so sweet, Travant could drink it if he could. 

   He had no doubt the high of it would be worth the low: the blackberries entwined with the extracts of cherries and vanilla beans. The way she spoke was like an easy liquid pouring out of a crystalline bottle. She was purer than liquor but gods, she got him drunk.

   Everything about her got him intoxicated on an affection that he had never felt before. Her hands were those of a cleric’s but her heart, Travant wanted to believe, was one of a lover’s. 

   It was irreverent and pathetic that the regal, passionate King of Thracia would be reduced to nothing but a drunkard because he was chasing the skirt of a rebel woman. But his own court and his own troops did not know that woman like he did. She helped him when he was blinded, when he was wounded: she either did not know or did not care that he was the very man whom she crusaded against. Travant did not know what was better for her kind heart, her obliviousness and ignorance or if her kindness truly knew no such bounds, transcending the sides of war.

   Just as he would take the bottle of the finest mead of berries and honey - just like her hair, just like her eyes, just like everything about her - he would take her too. A spoil of war. And so, Travant stole her from the desert and from the corpse that she was so futilely trying to heal. Every smack of her clerical magic only made flowers grow around the dead man that she was wedded to.

   Her eyes were brimming with tears as she tried to resuscitate this goner. She hardly noticed him until Travant had put his arm around her midsection and carried her off. Pulling her atop his wyvern, child - their child now - in tow. The babe giggling and gurgling despite this being a place of no esteem or honour for the rebels she was parented by.

   It was hardly a place of esteem or honour for Travant, he, the victor. He had not wanted to fight the rebels but their cause was unjust. He would prevail, the rightful heir and prince of Thracia and now Thracia would have a new queen and royal rugrat to pay their dues to. And they would have a new transgression to gossip about in courts and at the fringes of his country, where there were patches of sympathisers, new fodder for the fall of his Thracia.

   But Travant decided he would care not so long as he had her, his darling Ethlyn. She skulked about the few rooms that she was permitted host in. Always glaring but her eyes were so sharp, like jewels, that Travant couldn’t fault her for that or any other token of her hostility that she used against him like a weapon. He had to keep her close, his grip on her was firm, he paraded her around. The rebel who had been inducted into the very monarchy that she railed against. Dressing her in the finest clothes and allowing her to eat the finest that there could be; so much different to the soup kitchens she would run in her own camp.

   She was a little trooper, that Ethlyn, Travant observed. A healer, yes, but a healer who hailed from a scrappy army, nonetheless. Travant enjoyed her compliance but her protests were what struck the flint to the iron in him. Her hardened gazes as she forced herself to wear the regalia of her enemy at the dances that Travant took her too: propagandistic events to show that his rule would not be usurp. And also because he did enjoy a dance and as an expert rider of horses, Ethlyn was quite good at them, too, to Travant’s utter delight.

   After those such soirees, they would retire for the night and Travant would let Ethlyn release all her qualms of the evening. She railed about how she hated all of this and him and yet she would be in their ceremonial marriage bed that night, their child Altenna in the crib beside it.

   And, oh, Altenna, what a precious babe. She would undoubtedly grow big and strong with parents like these. Her brown hair was fluffy and ruddy; her blue eyes were bubbly. There was not a thing about her which did not charm Travant. He would take pride in her and looked forward to the day that he could perhaps take her beyond mere baby steps and teach her the gait of a soldier. Give her a lance and a training, perhaps even a wyvern as she was always so happy to visit the stables to see Daddy’s draconid and Mommy’s horsey.

   Where Altenna was still so innocent and happy, her mother was a contrast of discipline and care. Ethlyn was fierce. Protective. All the traits of being such a good mother. She did not let anyone but either herself or Travant to touch Altenna. There would be no substitute milk or anything else for her child. In the crooks of dusky afternoons, Ethlyn would rock Altenna to sleep for a pre-dinner nap and Travant would rock Ethlyn in faux of true, marital domesticity. He had such adoration for both mother and child.

   Ethlyn was caretaker was such a wonderful attraction that Travant had unto her and so, despite her prickly nature as a captive bride whom Travant was captivated by, to have the honour of looking after her child when she bathed or was otherwise occupied was the highest pleasure that Travant knew. And Travant knew of many pleasures that Ethlyn could give, be it on her lips or between her legs, it was when her fingertips ghosted his own and they exchanged Altenna between them. Those were the moments that Travant desired most from Ethlyn. In any form, any shape. So long as he was touched by her.

   When he was reckless in battle or reckless at the bar, Travant was confident that he could retire back to her, stumbling, and he would be taken care of without hesitation. Be it reeking of too much liquor or reeking of too much slaughter, retiring to his quarters where his wife remained was such sweet pleasure. She would set down her sewing and take him by the mid-section - so differently to how he had stolen her from that arid desert. She would support him and lay him down gently and Travant would close his eyes. She would grunt and struggle, every step a delay as they got closer to safety and privacy.

   Was it blood or the grime of a tavern’s floor that she was wiping off? It mattered not so long as it was her cloth that cleaned him down. She huffed and glared and huffed again, hearing her - their - baby cry in the background as she dealt with the mess that Travant had made of himself again but she would persevere between her duties and her ethics. Looking after them both as it were.

   And Travant would drink in whatever affection there was that Ethlyn had for him. He knew that she was counting the days like pomegranate seeds swallowed, dreaming of the day she could escape but he didn’t mind. He loved her in all honesty and he knew that she knew that. 

   Truly, he was drunk on all of her. The power he had over her and the more subtle things, too. Again, the scent of her perfume and the tears that she cried. Travant was utterly intoxicated on her and knew her to be his hangover cure, as well. It was just a shame that it was all poison, all the same given their circumstances.