#zynnis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leeesbian · 8 years ago

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so i got my sword for my zynnis cosplay and then wanted to address in fiction why zynnis would have a super fancy longsword so i wrote this sad bullshit enjoy!!!!!!!

The day of the attack, the sky opened up and let loose sheets of rain. Zynnis trudged through the forest, soaked in blood of their own, blood of the raiders, and the blood of their friends. Thrown over their back is the limp body of Aman Rockbelly, who stopped breathing an hour ago, his stomach torn open and wet with blood, even through the plate covering Zynnis’s back. Zynnis marched, throat tight and dry, pain shooting up through their body from the gaping wound above their hip with every step. Thoughts race through their head- if only I had moved faster, if only I had thought quicker, if only I had been stronger…

They had come out of nowhere, the raiders. It seemed like they fell straight from the sky, attacking Zynnis and the rest of their party with arrows, with scimitars, with daggers. Steeltank had been the first to fall, a raider had attacked him from behind and slit his throat- it was actually how Zynnis and the rest of the party had figured out of the raiders’ presence. Florentin went to try and save him, muttering healing spells and applying hard pressure to the wound in his neck with his bare hands. Aman and Marvela charged while Zynnis went to attack the masked man attempting to take out Florentin. They fight long and hard, and while their back is turned, they hear Marvela scream. When they turn, they see Marvela stumbling backwards- one arrow in her shoulder, one in her gut, and one in her eye. Zynnis looks up and spots the masked marksman up in a tree, and Zynnis attempts to jump to Marvela’s aid. It’s when they do this that Florentin shouts and collapses over Steeltank’s body, a dagger plunged into the back of his head. “You bastards!” Aman bellows, launching one of his hand axes into the chest of one raider, sending him stumbling backwards. Zynnis quickly jumped to his side, greatsword glinting in the last of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds just before rain began to fall. It seemed that the two of them fought for hours until another blade made contact with flesh- this one, a raider’s scimitar embedded deep into Zynnis’s side just above their hip. A gasp left their lips but they quickly lifted a foot to kick the assailant in the chest, the blade tearing out of them leaving behind jagged bloody skin. Zynnis fell to one knee, gasping for breath and watching as Aman tore apart one, two, three raiders in his fit of rage. It seemed he was unstoppable-

Right up to the moment a raider buried his daggers into his stomach and ripped him right open. Aman screamed, an ear splitting sound Zynnis didn't even know Aman could make, and he collapsed to the ground. The raiders muttered to each other before nodding and darting away down the path. The rain got heavier, and Zynnis made eye contact with Aman, who was breathing heavily and had one hand clamped over his stomach. “Looks like this is it, Cranan,” he wheezed, coughing up a mouthful of blood. Zynnis sucked in a deep breath and shakily got to their feet. They bent down slowly, the pain in their side searing hot, and gripped Aman’s arms. They pulled him up to his feet, then quickly stepped in front of him, allowing him to fall across their back. “Like hell it is.”

The plan had been to get back to town in order to save the both of them. It had taken three hours for Zynnis to cross paths with another patrol. The minute they noticed the other soldiers, they fell to the ground, praying that death would take them too.

After the ambush, Zynnis took solace at the Charming Conjuress, away from the barracks, the other soldiers, everything. They left to assist Knight Captain Harriet Greatrider, a few other soldiers, as well as the families of Florentin, Marvela, Rarsesli and Aman with funeral processions for the lot of them. A bounty was put out on the raiders that ambushed the party. Derrersa put them up in their old room at the brothel, and said any food or drink they ordered would be on the house.

Not that Zynnis did much else than sit at the bar, drink, and sleep.

About six months later, Zynnis was called back to the barracks by the Knight Captain herself, for a purpose unknown. When Zynnis arrived, dressed in simple dirty street clothes as opposed to their usual shining Watch armor, Knight Captain Harriet had gathered every single soldier, as well as many citizens of Little Ivywood. “Zynnis Cranan,” she said in a loud voice. She was flanked by four soldiers, who stood facing Zynnis and saluted. “Your bravery has not gone unnoticed. If it wasn't for you, it would've been days- maybe even weeks- before you and your platoon members, Aman Rockbelly, Marvela Kue, Florentin Wisesnow, and Rarsesli Steeltank, were found by your fellow men. Though we lost four lives that day, it would've been much more without your assistance and identifying the raiders which acted against us. It is true, they have yet to find those particular assailants, but we know that they will be found through the hard work of the Guard.” Harriet turned to a soldier to her left, who knelt before her and offered her a glimmering silver sheath. Harriet took it then approached Zynnis. “This is Knight Griever, a long sword forged right in Little Ivywood in your name,” she explained. As she spoke, she unsheathed the sword, the hilt decorated with expertly designed dragons, mouths agape as they chased after each other. The blade itself was straight and sharp, just as any excellent blade should. “The steel from which it was made came from pieces of armor worn by your compatriots. They were given to the blacksmith per the request of their family members. Consider it a gift from all of us in the Guard, from the families of your fallen soldiers, from the whole of Little Ivywood to thank you for your bravery and excellence.”

For a minute, Zynnis just stares between the sword, the Knight Captain, the saluting soldiers, and the hundreds of teary eyes surrounding them. It took them a bit to find their voice again.

“No.”

The Knight Captain blinked. “What?”

Zynnis cleared their throat. “Knight Captain, with all due respect, I… I failed. If I had acted in the way a good soldier must, my…” They choked a bit. “My friends would still be alive. I failed my mission and broke my oath. I don't deserve a gift like this. It should be buried with those that were braver than me.”

“Zynnis-”

“What do you want me to say?” Zynnis shouted, voice much stronger now, yet still quavering. “Thanks everyone for the gift of a weapon made out of my dead friend’s armor? This will definitely fill the void of losing five of the people closest to me.” Zynnis took a deep breath and rubbed at their eye with the heel of their hand before dropping their voice to a more suitable volume again. “I’m sorry, Knight Captain,” they said, staring down at their feet. “I… I can't accept this.”

When Zynnis returned to the Conjuress that night, the Knight Griever was lying on the bar next to a foamy flagon of ale, and a small note. Zynnis sighed, picked up the flagon and took a long swig before reading the note.

Zynnis,

I understand the pain you must be feeling. Becoming Knight Captain was a path filled with death. I’ve watched fellow soldiers, friends, even lovers fall at the hands of an adversary. Granted, I’ve never carried the body of one of my friend’s on my back for miles through the pouring rain with a near deadly injury, but nevertheless, I am no stranger to this sort of emotional grief. This gift will, of course, not bring your friends back by any means. But I know along with your Guard’s Oath you have a personal mantra of always fighting the good fight. And I know as your captain that you can use this sword to continue to do so, and your friends- wherever they are now- would be ever so grateful to see you take down the ones that took their lives with a blade forged from the armor they wore with pride.

I don't know if it’s revenge that you want. If it is, I would send an army behind you to help you take down those bastards. If not, hang this sword on your wall with pride, or carry it with you on your travels as a memory. Or, if you truly do not want it, return it to me and it will serve as a memorial for the troops lost that day.

You did not fail your duties, soldier. You fulfilled them to the best of your ability. Now it is time to grieve, and to rest.

Yours,

Harriet

Zynnis set the note down and picked up the sword. It was a perfect weight, feeling just right in their hands. They slowly unsheathed it, watched as the candlelight in the bar glinted off the steel like stars. They squeezed the grip of the hilt and set the sheathe on the bar counter. They swung, listening to the blade cut through the air with a whistle.

“Pretty sword, Zee,” a voice said. Zynnis looked up and saw one of the women of the Conjuress breezing through the common room- curly brown hair tied up in a loose bun, soft lacy pink dress loose on her form and sliding off her shoulders. “Where'd you get it?”

Zynnis lowered their arm and caught a glimpse of their reflection in the sword. “The Knight Captain,” they said softly. The woman whistled and chuckled. “How fancy. You must've done something impressive.”

And Zynnis laughed, the sound foreign to them after not having done so in over six months. “Yeah,” they said. “I guess you could say that.”

“Looks like it might rain,” Florentin says, squinting up towards the sky through the thick of leaves. Zynnis looks over as Marvela snickers, her graying black hair falling loosely around her face out of her tight bun atop her head. “You’d hate that, wouldn’t you?” She says, bringing a chuckle out of Zynnis. Florentin blushes and stutters as Aman interrupts him- “Yeah, he’d probably melt!” This makes the whole platoon laugh, sans Florentin, who just looks down at his shoes, flustered. Marvela nudges Zynnis with an elbow. “Rain would never slow down a tank like you, though, right Cranan?”

Zynnis laughs softly. “I don’t know, Kue,” they say. “I might rust over.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” Aman says joyfully, elbowing them playfully in the side. “You’re stronger than all of us combined.”

Zynnis laughs again. “Oh, shove it, Beerbelly,” they say, shaking their head. “You all give me too much credit.”

The conversation goes like that for fifteen, twenty, forty-five minutes- Zynnis actually loses track of time. It’s like they aren’t even on patrol, keeping Little Ivywood safe, it’s more like they’re just a group of friends taking a walk together.

“You know what I’m going to do after this patrol?” Aman says, folding his hands behind his head as he walks. “I’m going to the Conjuress and I’m having a drink.”

Zynnis laughs. “You just want to bother me more, huh?”

Aman laughs back. “I’m not going to bother you-”

“You’re going to bother me and all of the ladies you tell your awful jokes to!”

Aman laughs again, hearty and gleeful. “My jokes aren’t that bad!”

Marvela wipes a tear of laughter from her eye and sighs. “Well after this patrol, I’m going to go home to Colette and I’m going to make her dinner-”

“You’re going to poison your dear wife?” Aman says with mock horror and astonishment. “How will your daughter go on?”

Marvela punches Aman hard on the arm and smirks. “I’ll have you know both Colette and Charmaine love my cooking. I’m sure you would to if you took up any of our offers to come to dinner.”

Zynnis snorts and crosses their arms. “I’ll probably just take a damn nap,” they said, looking up at the sky. “Feel like I deserve a good rest.”

Florentin catches up with the three of them, leaving Rarsesli to tail the group and keep an eye out. “Maybe I’ll go to the bookshop,” he says timidly, wringing his hands around the leather grip of his staff. “I’ve had my eye on one by Nadine Sunpelt- that author down in Golgotha? I guess she’s writing a new series of-”

“Erotic romance novels?” Zynnis supplies, grinning at Florentin. Florentin blushes and laughs awkwardly, stammering as he attempts to get out exactly what this woman is writing. Marvela claps him on the back, which causes him to fall forward just a bit. “Don’t worry, Wisesnow, we’ve all been there.”

“I-it- it isn’t-”

“Well, then, what about you, Steeltank?” Aman interrupts, leaving Florentin a blushing mess and falling behind.

There’s no response.

“Rarsesli?” Marvela says, looking over her shoulder towards him.

Zynnis looks over to Rarsesli-

And their vision gets blurry.

#zynnis #my writing

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