#Also I tried to the playlist follow the chronology of the story and might continue to add to it/edit 🤔 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hovercraft79 · 5 years

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Winter Song

Ch 27 Underneath the Tree

Chapters: 27/31 Word Count: 2,199 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Teen Warnings: None Summary: Hecate and Pippa are finally winding down on as Christmas comes to a close. Will an exchange of gifts – and confessions – bring them closer together or push them further away?

Notes: This story is part of the B-Sides: Stories from the world of Hecate’s Summer Playlist series. It is a prequel to Hecate’s Summer Playlist.

Underneath the Tree is a lovely song by Kelly Clarkson that really goes with the mood of this one, I think.

Thanks to Sparky for her endless efforts in making me sound like I did pass basic English and composition.

“I loved you, you know…” Pippa spoke so softly that she wasn’t sure Hecate could hear her. But when the other woman froze in the middle of putting another log on the fire, she knew. “I know you probably don’t want to hear that…but it’s true.” She took a sip of her wine. “I don’t mean like a friend, either. For the longest time I thought that was why you left.”

Hecate dropped the log into place and straightened up, hands gripping the mantel. She closed her eyes, willing her rising stomach back into its place. “It wasn’t why I left. I…I didn’t even know you felt that way.” Would it have made a difference if she’d known? Honestly? She didn’t think so. Most likely she would have been even more determined to protect Pippa. She turned around but stayed near the fire, pretending she wanted the warmth. If anything, she was burning up inside. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Pippa shrugged. “You were my best friend, Hiccup. I was too afraid to jeopardize that. Part of me was always afraid that there would be something that made you decide I was… too much. Whenever I’d lie in bed at night I’d think about telling you. Especially on those nights that we slept in your bunk or mine, I’d think about telling you.” She took another swig of her wine, downing the rest of the glass. “I could imagine a lot more ways it could go wrong than it could go right. Would you have really wanted to know? Would you have stayed? If you’d known?”

Stricken, Hecate shook her head. “I couldn’t…” She refused to meet Pippa’s eyes. “Please… Pippa… I’m sorry that happened…that I did that…”

“I know. I’m sorry it happened too.” Pippa stared at her empty glass. She wanted another glass. She wanted the whole damn bottle, but that wouldn’t serve her well tonight. She forced a smile on her face and brightness into her voice. “But it was a long time ago, Hiccup. And here we are…and it’s Christmas.” She held out a hand, beckoning Hecate over. “Come here, darling. Please, sit with me. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Hecate hesitated before moving to perch stiffly on the edge of the sofa. “Okay…” She did her best to keep her face impassive, but inside her stomach bubbled and churned. At least it was cooler on the sofa with Pippa.

“Relax, Hiccup, I promise it’s nothing bad. At least I hope it isn’t.” She shifted on the sofa so she could see Hecate’s face. “You look like there’s a First Year trying to brew a level nine potion in your best cauldron.”

“I think that’s what I feel like.” She brushed an invisible speck from her dark green skirt. “I just don’t recall any good conversation that began with ‘there’s something I want to talk to you about.’”

“It isn’t bad, darling. I promise.” She held a hand out and waited as Hecate tentatively laced their fingers together. She still felt the same butterflies she always did when Hecate took her hand. “Do you remember? When we were girls, we held hands all the time. I know I had to make you to start with, but…eventually you would reach for my hand, too. At least you did for a while. Then things changed. You didn’t reach for my hand anymore. You’d let me hold yours, but as soon as there was some sort of excuse… you’d let go. You’d move away. That’s why I thought you knew how I felt.”

“It wasn’t,” Hecate said, staring straight ahead. The flames flickered merrily in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the walls and furniture. Brightly wrapped packages sat beneath a tiny Yule Tree on her side table. The whole scene should have been joyful. Instead, Hecate felt like a Founding Stone was sitting in her stomach. “Do you want more wine?” She asked, trying to lighten the mood and unable to think of anything else to do.

“I do, but I think it’s best I have some club soda instead.” She held out her hand and summoned a bottle of club soda, opening it and pouring half the contents into her wine glass before sending it back to Hecate’s kitchenette. “Do you remember our conversation the night of the Spelling Bee? Our reconciliation?”

“That’s hardly the sort of thing I could forget,” Hecate said, smiling in spite of her nerves. “You said that you wanted us to be friends again – and you understood that I wanted that too, even if I couldn’t get the words out. You said that you would give me all the space I needed, but you wouldn’t go away.” Nervous brown eyes lifted up to meet Pippa’s. “That’s still true, isn’t it?”

Pippa smiled gently. She knew she was the one who should be nervous about Hecate leaving again, but…she didn’t really think that was very likely. “It’s true, darling. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” She watched Hecate’s shoulders stiffen. “Sit still. Let’s open presents, shall we?”

Confused, all Hecate could do was nod in agreement. She summoned the packages from their spot beneath the tiny Yule Tree. “You go first,” she said, pressing her package into Pippa’s hands.

Pippa tore the paper off the narrow box and flipped the lid onto the sofa. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but folded papers wasn’t it. She pulled the papers out and opened them up. Scanning through them, Pippa realized it was a registration to the witching world’s most prestigious potions conference. Her potions teacher at Pentangle’s asked to attend every year.

“I’m giving an address… and you said you wanted to hear one of my lectures.” Her cheeks began flushing red. “You also said you wanted to go somewhere together. The conference is in Italy. I thought we could… stay a few days after and sightsee?”

“Oh, Hiccup! It’s perfect. I love it.” She looked up, shining, smiling eyes filling Hecate until she thought she might burst. “I’ll put it on the calendar right away.” She pressed the registration to her chest, sighing deeply. This definitely made her feel better about the rest of the conversation. “Open yours now.” She nudged Hecate’s gift towards her.

Hecate smiled shyly as she pulled the gift onto her lap. “You really didn’t need to get me anything. I think,” she paused as she felt the beginnings of a blush creeping up her neck. “I think having you back is gift enough.”

“Me too, darling.” She reached a hand out and squeezed Hecate’s elbow. “But I wanted to give you this anyway. Have done for a very long time, actually.”

Frowning, Hecate picked up the package with reverence. Her fingers trembled as she slipped them beneath the tape and removed the paper. Delicately, she folded the paper and set it aside. Pippa squirmed with anticipation beside her. Hecate smiled up at her before removing the lid to the box and revealing a deep forest green, leather-bound album. Hecate reverently traced the edge of the album with a black painted nail.

“Go on, then,” Pippa said, “have a look.”

Hecate opened the album, hand flying to her mouth as she stared down at her twelve-year-old self, looking serious and severe standing next to a bubbly blonde girl who had her arms wrapped around Hecate’s waist. “I remember that day,” Hecate said. “The last day of term when your parents came to collect you. You wanted them to meet your best friend.”

“I did,” she said, chuckling. “You weren’t at all sure about it, though.”

“I kept waiting for the punchline.”

“You kept waiting to be the punchline, Hiccup. But that was never going to be the case with me.” Pippa corrected gently. “It took a long time before you believed that, I think.” She ran a hand down Hecate’s arm. “Or maybe you still don’t quite believe it?”

“It’s… still surprising that you would ever have chosen me.”

“Funny – it’s never surprised me at all.” Pippa ran her hand back up Hecate’s arm before leaning back against the sofa.

Blushing slightly, Hecate continued to flip through the album. With the photographs arranged chronologically, Hecate was able to watch them grow up a bit with each flip of the page. In each photo Pippa beamed, one or both arms always draped around Hecate. Early on, Hecate looked like she did in the first picture – stiff and uncomfortable. She noticed that she changed as she moved further into the album. She started to smile. She stood a little closer. Halfway through and she was loose and grinning, one arm thrown across Pippa’s shoulders.

Hecate’s breath caught in her chest when she reached the last photo. She knew exactly when it was: the day before the broomstick waterskiing display. They were tan, wearing swimsuits and laughing, leaning against one another. They weren’t looking at the camera. They were looking at each other, and Hecate couldn’t believe what she was seeing. How had they not known? The love between them was so, so, visible. Tangible, even. She turned the page to find nothing but blank pages after that.

“It’s pretty obvious in hindsight, isn’t it?” Pippa tapped the album with a pink nail before taking Hecate’s hand in her own. “This is what I want again.”

Hecate’s heart lurched in her chest. “I don’t understand…” Hecate stared at the album in her hand. “I’m sorry, Pip. I’m afraid I’m not following you.”

“Don’t be sorry, darling. I haven’t been clear. After the Spelling Bee I told you I wanted to be friends again, like we used to be.”

“I remember.” She looked up into Pippa’s eyes. “I said I wanted that, too.” Her lips twisted into a rueful grin. “At least I tried to; you told me that you’d let me get away with just shaking my head yes or no.”

“And you shook your head yes, and I’ve never been so happy.”

“But it didn’t last,” Hecate pulled her hand free from Pippa’s and began wringing her hands together in her lap. “I’m not what you remembered…I’m harder, more rigid. Too difficult.”

“On the contrary, darling. It did last. In fact, it grew. And it’s true, you are all of those things. But you’re so much more, as well. That’s the part you never could see, Hiccup.” She reached out and took Hecate’s hand between her own again. “What I’m trying to say is that I’d like the opportunity for us to be more than friends. If you’d consider it… I’d like to start thinking in terms of getting back what I felt for you before you went away. Those feelings never left, Hiccup, or…if they did, they came flooding back as soon as you were back in my life. I’m not saying I want us to start… dating right now or anything like that. I’d just like to know if you feel… willing… to consider the option.” She squeezed Hecate’s hand one more time before letting go and leaning back against the cushions. It was done. She’d said her piece, and now it was up to Hecate. She reminded herself that she could live with any decision that Hecate made, as long as they could remain friends.

Suddenly, every feeling Hecate struggled to keep tamped down welled up. Her breath caught in her chest and she started to cough. Without thinking she gulped down the rest of her wine – the better part of the glass. This set her to sputtering even more.

Pippa leaned forward and began rubbing Hecate’s back. “Easy there, darling. That’s not quite the reaction I’d hoped for.” She kept soothing until Hecate caught her breath, then kept rubbing light circles on her back just because she wanted to. “You’re okay. You don’t have to say anything. No pressure, Hiccup. Just breathe.” She offered her glass of club soda, pleased when Hecate drank from it.

“I’m all right, Pipsqueak, I’m just not used to the wine…” She smiled a tight, embarrassed smile and handed Pippa her glass back.

A log popped in the fireplace, startling them both and setting Pippa to giggling. “Look at us, Hiccup, jumping out of our skin because of a little noise.” She stood up and held a hand out to Hecate again. Again, she felt the butterflies when Hecate took it. “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.” She waved her hand, and the sofa lengthened and widened. Hecate summoned some bedding and magicked it in to place.

Once the sofa was made up for Pippa, Hecate said goodnight, awkwardly accepting a hug and another kiss on the cheek. At least this one wasn’t followed by another infernal nose boop, but she blushed just the same.

Stopping at the door to her bedroom, Hecate turned around and looked at Pippa, finding the blonde witch looking back at her, smiling. “I loved you, too, you know. That was never the issue.” Without another word, Hecate retreated to her bedroom.

Pippa stared back at her, heart pounding in her chest, smile growing wider by the second.

#ww2018winterfluffevent #hicsqueak #hecate hardbroom #pippa pentangle

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transfemininomenon · 6 years

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hey i dont know if anyone would be interested in this but this is the back story i wrote for one of my dnd characters a WHILE ago that im finally allowed to leak and its something im very proud of and she’s a character who means a Lot to me

so here’s the story of gwyndolin, half-elf warlock of the raven queen

(warning for things like suicide as well as Fantasy Racism & parental neglect)

you can also if you want a complete experience listen to the playlist i made for her, which for once i took the time to really think about the songs and make them chronologically follow along her story https://open.spotify.com/user/1226762026/playlist/4p9jT3uiew58QetdfQCmEn?si=ElqSvpmATFCUfCE-dtZXqQ

OKAY here we go:

Sundamar Trismyar was born on a chilly Autumn evening in Nyva Serine to uncertain parents and an even more uncertain future. While neither parent would admit it, they both had dark wishes that maybe the child wouldn’t make it. That such a child wouldn’t have to live with their mistake and live in a world that would no doubt try its hardest to kill them. Unfortunately for both, and unfortunately for the child themselves, the child survived.

From a young age it was clear that Sundamar was… different. While he couldn’t ever fully explain why, he never really felt comfortable in his body, always dwelling in it like an uninvited guest. He always assumed it had something to do with his half-elven heritage; the blood coursing through him not understanding this world any better than he did. That didn’t quite explain it all, though. There were times when he was younger before the world really began to hate him, before people fully understood what he was, and yet even then he had that off feeling.

Aside from that off feeling, Sundamar had a normal enough childhood. Or at least, as normal as a half-elf could expect in a predominately elven city. He wasn’t allowed to get out of the house much, choosing instead to devote much of his time to reading, something his father taught him at a very young age. Much of his time was spent living vicariously through the tales and legends he read about, with him having a particular fascination with stories of the gods. A quiet child, he spent much of his time in his room. He never really felt his parents were neglectful, but he very often couldn’t shake the feeling that they were maybe a little resentful of him. Even before the world began to truly show how little it cared for him, he began to learn his existence was wrong from his parents.

It wasn’t until he began to attend a private school in the city at the age of 7 that he began to truly see how unwanted he was. His parents had warned him that perhaps schooling wasn’t the best idea, that he could learn just as much at home, but he had big dreams of becoming a diplomat like his parents and knew from studying that all the best diplomats had gotten proper schooling. The beginning of school was marked with him doing his best not to stand out, trying to blend in as a pure elf with the hope that staying out of the limelight would keep suspicion off him. This worked for a while, until he befriended a girl named Valtris.

He hadn’t exactly planned on making friends, but once while doing a group assignment he was partnered up with Valtris, and he found her strangely easy to talk to, especially compared to the other children in their class. After that day they would often work together whenever they could, and would play together during their break time. This went on for a few months, all up until the day that her dad came to pick Valtris up - a man named Zanlannah.

Zanlannah was the main man that Sundamar’s father worked under, and he was well known throughout the city for being for pro-high elf, and only high elf. Humans especially he viewed with great disdain, seeing elves as genetically superior with their longer lives along with natural dexterity and skills when it came to magic. The only thing he hated more than humans were half-elves, who he saw as a mockery of his race, an unnatural diluting of their genes. He had met Sundamar a number of times before during business meetings with his father, and from the beginning was disgusted by him.

Seeing his child playing with, as he put it, a “disgusting half-breed” caused Zanlannah to fly into a rage, shouting at both Sundamar and Valtris in horror. He demanded that a half-elf such as him never be allowed to be near his daughter again, and as Valtris attempted to protest, her father silenced her with a quick smack. Silently crying, Valtris was lead away. He would later be told that Valtris was sent off to a private school in another city, and he never heard from her again.

After this, the floodgates were opened and hatred toward Sundamar began to rush out. His classmates all quickly took to bullying him, taking any chance to assault or humiliate him. Zanlannah’s outrage must’ve reached others throughout the city, for soon other elven nobility were looking at Sundamar with disdain as they passed him on the street, and he often found himself being followed home by masked figures. His family suffered as well, with Xalph’s position as a diplomat constantly coming under fire, his mother being spat at and called a “human whore,” and their house often being vandalized.

Sundamar blamed only himself. It was his fault, he thought, for his existence was the source of all this misfortune. He began to resent his parents too, feeling it was irresponsible and unfair of them to have a child such as him knowing what kind of world he would be born into. While they tried their best to understand, any hope of connecting to Sundamar was now lost, and there was frequent arguing between them.

As Sundamar began to enter puberty, he found himself growing increasingly sadder, and angrier. While he continued his studies, he had no friends, and his school days were full of insults and injury. Even his home life wasn’t much better - most days he’d immediately lock himself up in his room, and any time he ventured out would very often lead to an argument with his parents. He hated who he was, he hated WHAT he was, and he hated this world that was so unfair to him just for being alive.

On top of all of this, around the age of 12 is when his dysphoria really began to set in. He watched as his classmates and himself were beginning to grow, and somehow watching his girl classmates grow filled him with a deep longing that he couldn’t describe. As he began growing taller, his voice beginning to deepen, he found himself wishing he could stay shorter, that his hips and chest would grow like that of the girls in the class. This feeling made him feel even more confused than he already was, growing even more unsure of WHAT he was.

It was right around this age that a fateful day happened, a day he was home sick while his parents were off at work. Growing bored of lying in bed all day, he began to dig through a closet in his family’s home, and came across a collection of old clothing from his mother’s youth. Taking out a dress that looked right about his size, he stared at it for a while and, thinking about his classmates, tried it on. As he looked in the mirror, he was struck by how right it felt to wear, how right he looked wearing it. Trying on different clothes, he spent hours staring at himself, feelings bubbling inside of him that were a mix of great happiness and also deep sadness. Eventually, he tore everything off and went back to bed, spending the rest of the day crying for reasons he couldn’t understand.

Years went on like this as he entered his teenage years, feeling his body grow in all the wrong ways while the world’s view of him continued to grow in hatred. Insults from his peers turned into open attacks, and he would often come home covered in bruises. His parents tried their best to talk to him, to talk about what was happening and how he was feeling, but he constantly shoved them aside.

The one solace he had came around the age of 16, when he met a young girl named Arveene. While walking home from lessons one day, he suddenly felt the weight of his coin purse no longer there. Spouting a young girl running down the street, he sprinted after her, and after several blocks caught up to her. Backing her into a corner, the girl suddenly pulled a dagger on him. At first fearing an attack, Sundamar realized that the girl was crying, and that she was terribly skinny. Realizing she must be living on the streets, he took pity on her and offered to buy her food along with anything else she might need. While at first suspicious, she eventually agreed, and Sundamar set her up with food to last her a few weeks along with new clothing and a sleeping mat.

This lead to a several year long friendship, with Sundamar slipping Arveene what extra food and money he could, even letting her stay at his family’s home whenever his parents were out for extended periods of time. In return, he found himself with his first real friend since the age of 7. Despite their difference in age they could relate in how unwanted they were to the world, with Arveene being an orphan who escaped from an abusive orphanage and eventually ended up in the city. Finally having someone he could trust was something Sundamar had never experienced, and it did wonders for sorting out a lot of what he was confused about. He even managed to talk about his gender confusions with her, and she was nothing but supportive, saying he should live however he wanted to.

As Sundamar entered adulthood, he struggled to find work. He set out to become a diplomat like his parents as he always dreamed, however his name had been smeared by Zanlannah, and even with his father’s connections few people were willing to work with him. Doing odd jobs throughout the city, he began trying to save up enough money to off to a different area, a place where he could maybe escape the cruel treatment he had experienced in Nyva Serine. And, maybe once he’d found a more accepting place, maybe even begin finding ways to live as a woman.

By now she had accepted that she was a girl. Thinking about it she knew she had accepted it years ago, all the way back to the age of 12, if not sooner than that. Such a revelation put her mind at ease, clearing up a lot of her confusion, but it also left a great sadness within her. She knew that despite her best efforts many people would never see her as the woman she was, especially when she was already seen as such a joke. Not knowing how her parents would react, she never brought the subject up with them, only mentioning it to Arveene in the few times they managed to see each other now that Sundamar was so busy.

Sundamar.

She realized the name couldn’t stay, but she didn’t know what to call herself instead. There were a few names she thought to maybe try, and even had Arveene try calling her a few of them, but none of them felt right. This left here starting to doubt herself - maybe she was being silly, maybe she really was a man, this entire thing was just a phase. As good as it felt to think of herself as a woman, she felt awkward, almost ashamed thinking of other people addressing her as such.

Things continued to get worse for her. While she accepted herself as a woman, her dysphoria ran rampant as her days became a constant swirl of “sir” this and “boy” that. Relations with her parents grew worse and worse as keeping a steady job grew harder, with them implying that it was maybe time that she move out. Attacks on her grew more frequent as she went throughout the city trying to find work. Her opinion of herself dropped more and more as each day passed, each one seeming bleaker than the last.

The final catalyst came a few months after her 19th birthday. It was a cold winter night, and she was heading home late from working on someone’s broken wagon. Light snow was falling and she could see her breath forming in front of her. Nearing her family’s neighborhood, she grew unnerved with how quiet it was. That was, until she heard crunching of snow coming from nearby. Turning to her right, she saw Zanlannah and a group of five other nobles coming toward her. From the noise they were making, they had clearly been drinking, and Zanlannah in particular was stumbling about.

Zanlannah suddenly locked eyes with her, and she could see his face turn up in a horrible sneer. “Well, look -hic- what we have here boysh!” he slurred out, advancing toward her. “It'sh the -hic- half-breed!”

She tried to back up, only to bump into a building behind her. Quickly, the elves all had her surrounded. “What'sh a halfie like you doing out thish late, huh?” he began to demand. “Up to no good, are you?”

He was right up in her face by now and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She tried to stammer out a reply, not even knowing what she was saying, when suddenly Zanlannah swung a bottle of wine at her, breaking it over her head. As she fell to the ground, she heard his horrific laugh, and then heard him say, “Let'sh teach him a lesshon, eh boysh?”

With that, they all began assaulting her, kicking and punching at her as broken glass dug into her side. Trying to escape, she struggled to stand up only to be knocked back down. The group wailed on her for what felt like an eternity, until finally they backed off. With one final kick to her gut, Zanlannah spit on her, declaring, “The only good you’ll ever be ish dead.”

She believed that.

She knew the world would never accept her, neither as a half-elf or as a woman. This world wasn’t right for her, and she thought it was about time she left it.

Eventually stumbling to her feet, she walked the remaining blocks to her family’s home, only to find her parents had changed the locks. Her parents had as of late been threatening to do such a thing if she was out too long, also convinced that maybe she was up to things she shouldn’t be. Collapsing at the door, she began to sob, her tears freezing to her face in the winter air. (holy fuck that last sentence was emo)

Eventually opening her eyes, she looked to the side of her home and saw some rope her father had left out the day before. Staring at it, she hesitated for only a few seconds before crawling over to it. Clutching the rope in her hands, she knew that it was here time to leave this world behind.

Using what little strength she had left, she climbed up a tree they had growing by the side of their house. Tying the rope to one of the branches, she deftly tied a noose on the other end. Tightening it around her neck, she hesitated for just a second before she jumped.

She expected to hear a crack, and then nothing. Instead, she felt herself hanging there, and began to panic thinking she hadn’t tied the noose well enough. “Figures,” she thought to herself grimly, “you can’t even kill yourself right.”

A few minutes passed though, and she still felt herself suspended in air, and that’s when she realized that she didn’t feel anything around her neck.

Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself surrounded by swirling shades of black as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, before her a figure began to appear. This figure turned into that of a tall, elegant looking, though deathly pale woman, with a cloak of raven feathers that flowed to her feet. Perched on her shoulder was a massive, three-headed raven with pure white eyes, and as she looked into the raven’s eyes she suddenly saw her life flash before her; her childhood spent reading, playing with Valtris, her first encounter with Zanlannah, meeting Arveene, all the events leading to where she was now.

She was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been before. Beginning to cry out in confusion, she suddenly heard a voice in her head say, “Don’t be afraid, child. While you may have tried your best to make it so, it is not yet your time. Fate has much more interesting things in store for you.”

Confused, she struggled to think of what to say, finally stammering out, “What-who are you?”

In response was a laugh, though not a malicious one. “My name was forgotten long ago,” the voice said. “If you must call me something, you may call me… the Raven Queen. However, who I am is not important. What is important is who YOU are. You have much more to see still, Gwyndolin.”

Gwyndolin.

As soon as the voice spoke the name, she realized how natural it felt to her. She suddenly remembered hearing the name before - it was the name of a princess in a story she had read long ago. Said princess was born a boy, however she had magic powers gifted by the moon, a gift usually reserved for women of her land. Growing up, the princess learned more and more how much more she enjoyed being a girl, and eventually used her magic powers to grant herself the body of a queen.

It was always one of her favorite stories.

She repeated the name over and over in her head, liking the sound of it more and more, when suddenly she stopped herself. “Wait,” she began, “why do you call me Gwyndolin?”

The Raven Queen laughed once more. “It is who you are,” she said, “Who you truly are. The name sounds nice, no? And wouldn’t you like to have a body to match?”

Gwyndolin was taken aback. She was beginning to understand what the Raven Queen was saying, but there was no way she could… “What… what do you mean?” she managed to stammer out.

Laughter once more. “I’ve seen you, Gwyndolin. I’ve seen the thread that is your life, and it is not meant to be cut here. And I’ve seen that this body is not the one you want to dwell in, and I think it would be a waste to spend another second living a life where you feel a prisoner.”

Pausing once more, Gwyndolin took in everything the Raven Queen was saying. “You… you would give me a new body? For me?”

This time it was the Raven Queen who paused. “I would,” she cautiously began, “though there would be… a price. A fair one, I hope you’ll see. But a price.”

“Anything,” Gwyndolin said instantly. “I’ll pay any price.”

A smile crossed the Raven Queen’s face. “Well then. The pact is formed.”

Confused, Gwyndolin opened her mouth to say more, only for her vision to suddenly begin to dim. The Raven Queen began to fizzle away in front of her and the darkness around her began to swirl. With a sudden burst of light, Gwyndolin found herself laying on the ground.

Getting up, she found she was just outside of the city, with the sun just beginning to come up. Rising to her feet, she shook her head, wondering if everything that had just happened was a dream. As she shook her head though, she felt long, soft hair hit gently against the side of her head. Having generally kept her hair short in an attempt to try and squelch feelings of dysphoria, this shocked her. Reaching up to her face she began to feel around, and already she could tell the face she had was different.

Rushing over to a nearby stream that had yet to freeze, as the sun rose above her, she gazed at her reflection in the water. As she stared tears began to well up in her eyes, and she realized they were tears of joy. Staring back at her was… her. The her she had always imagined. Still the physique of a half-elf, but her hips had widened, her legs were long and slender, her face sharper and her eyes brighter. She could feel her shirt pressed against her chest, and with joy she looked down and saw her once flat chest was now full. Falling down on to her back, she felt her body fall into snow, the cold gripping at her curves.

She knew she would never forget that moment.

#dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #gwyn tag #suicide /

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