#about: i am no hero. merely a man who has seen and done and endured what can never be forgotten or forgiven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

edenmemes · 3 years

Text

the witcher 3: wild hunt starters

including quotes from the dlcs hearts of stone & blood and wine

❝ you were always an unruly child. i adored that about you. ❞ ❝ mmm. yes. of course. the excuse you resort to when you’d rather not talk about something. ❞ ❝ how many have you killed? how many more might you still? ❞ ❝ you know who i am. and why i’m here. ❞ ❝ you're a madman and always have been. a cruel, cold-blooded killer. ❞ ❝ a man should frame his wishes carefully. it forestalls disappointment. ❞ ❝ no argument. you knew what you were signing up for. ❞ ❝ maybe once, in a different time...i’d have helped. ❞ ❝ don’t train alone, it only embeds your errors. ❞ ❝ wanna get drunk off my ass. and it’s gotta be on cheap wine. ❞ ❝ you’re a heartless bastard. ❞ ❝ try to trick me anyway, anyhow, you won’t go anywhere, you know that. ‘cause i’ll take your head off right where it meets your neck. ❞ ❝ sorry. i don’t want to talk about it. not now, at least. ❞ ❝ we are more like a family. we support each other and help each other survive tough moments. ❞ ❝ so how’s it feel to be the village witch? ❞ ❝ realize, please, that you were made for great things. ❞ ❝ folks say a curse has fallen on that place, a dark power brought down by the bestiality of the murders it beheld. ❞ ❝ so, now you’ve threatened me and all...are you in or are you not? ❞ ❝ i know it must sound foolish, but in the dream - well, it was all too real... ❞ ❝ we may not survive this. in fact, our chances are slim. ❞ ❝ it’s always been about you. only you. ❞ ❝ i remember finding your sense of humor both groan-worthy...and somehow endearing. ❞ ❝ kings die, realms fall, but magic endures. ❞ ❝ i detest banquets. vacuous conversation, food portions fit for a mouse, drinks that taste like piss... ❞ ❝ despite what you’ve heard, i don’t lunge at every monster i see, sword in hand. ❞ ❝ each day’s more dangerous than the last. ❞ ❝ it’s folks like you that restore my faith in humankind. ❞ ❝ my power lies in possessing knowledge, not sharing it. ❞ ❝ the rotten smell brings back childhood memories. ❞ ❝ awfully noble of you, showing so much concern for the needy. ❞ ❝ no need to thank me. always glad to save your ass. you’re welcome. ❞ ❝ i may be inhumanely beautiful, but i don’t have super human senses. ❞ ❝ anyone can be made to talk, even a corpse. one must simply know how. ❞ ❝ we’ve done the hardest part. only got the pleasant bits now. ❞ ❝ there are few causes worth saving. even fewer men. ❞ ❝ don’t treat me like a child. ❞ ❝ there’s strange men lurking outside the house. watching me. ❞ ❝ you must be careful what you wish for lest your wish be granted. for there are consequences. ❞ ❝ shall i be free of the suffering? the sadness? ❞ ❝ i wish to gaze into those eyes, eyes the devil would be proud to have. ❞ ❝ you were born with a great gift. and only you can decide how to use it. ❞ ❝ any other words of wisdom? or can we go? ❞ ❝ what i need is an ally. and something tells me i shall find none better than you. ❞ ❝ i can see no row can occur here without your participation. ❞ ❝ i and what concerns me have not been a concern of yours for some time now. ❞ ❝ if you’d not arrived in time, things might have ended considerably worse. ❞ ❝ if they can bleed, they can die. ❞ ❝ a man must display some madness from time to time --- it helps him feel alive. ❞ ❝ i was deeply troubled. you’ve no idea. ❞ ❝ done that so many times, but...it felt like our first kiss to me. ❞ ❝ don’t need to play tough on me. ❞ ❝ i've lost too many mates already. i won’t risk it, i can't. ❞ ❝ there’s just not enough of us. it’ll be a hard fight. ❞ ❝ in lonely woods, screams carry long. ❞ ❝ things used to be simpler. monsters were bad, humans good. now, everything’s all confused. ❞ ❝ as for your missteps --- i don't rightly see why i shouldn't laugh if they're amusing.. ❞ ❝ i’ve no gold to offer you in reward...but i shall be ever so grateful. ❞ ❝ if you’re scared, turn back. i’m gonna go on. ❞ ❝ if anything happens, i’ll defend you. ❞ ❝ once you say "i love you," a kiss has to taste differently. ❞ ❝ maybe we should sit? you look a bit dazed... ❞ ❝ drink it off, sleep it off, whatever it takes...just get yourself together and think things through. ❞ ❝ i shall join later, if it’s no trouble. i don’t yet feel strong enough to venture out. ❞ ❝ awake at last. you writhed like a squirrel caught in a snare. ❞ ❝ again you plan without even asking what i think! ❞ ❝ come to see how i’m feelin'? thanks, not bad. ❞ ❝ i remember that day quite well...there was a light drizzle, yet the cold tore right through you. ❞ ❝ you gotta keep your eyes peeled wide open. someone’s taken an interest in your work. ❞ ❝ oof...for a minute, i actually thought we were doomed. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t worry yourself --- it tarnishes your beauty. ❞ ❝ i’d even embrace you...were you not covered in blood. ❞ ❝ guess i could’ve been someone worse...just a shame i had no choice. ❞ ❝ facts interest me. not fairytales. ❞ ❝ hm, odd smell. blend of alcohol, blood and monster stench. ❞ ❝ i’m old and i am wealthy. i may say what i please. ❞ ❝ now, be so kind and leave me to my thoughts. ❞ ❝ in your shoes i’d pack it up and go hide somewhere far away. ❞ ❝ forgive me, but that's the blatherin' of someone who clearly can't snap out of it after a tragic loss. ❞ ❝ that all you gotta say? i saved your life. ❞ ❝ i swear on all that is holy: we shall be together forever. ❞ ❝ think of me as part of the decor. ❞ ❝ anyone who’s bold enough to fight is already a hero. ❞ ❝ if this is a trap of some sort... ❞ ❝ you can count on me, you know? always. ❞ ❝ you don’t know how much it means...to have someone you can rely on in this fucking city. ❞ ❝ i know you. you have no heart. ❞ ❝ no room for friendship in this business. ❞ ❝ evil is evil. lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. the degree is arbitrary, the definitions blurred. ❞ ❝ hands off, or i'll cut them off. ❞ ❝ i’ll need to clear my head first. after those deranged dreams, i feel it’s full of cobwebs. ❞ ❝ on your way? or will you stay longer? it’s far safer with you around... ❞ ❝ really sad story, but something’s not right. got a feeling you’re not telling me everything. ❞ ❝ gotta admit, there’s something about you. you’re...different. ❞ ❝ with each arrow i shoot, i think of my dad. he’d be proud, i think. ❞ ❝ i merely know when to indulge my pride, and when to swallow it. ❞ ❝ you were born to greatness. ❞ ❝ these’re dark, grim times. no room for knights pure of heart or happily-ever-afters. ❞ ❝ a life without liquor’s like loving without licking. ❞ ❝ my certainty i walk the right path grows strong as iron, firm as steel. ❞ ❝ few make me feel awkward, but in your presence, i feel anxiety, discomfort. ❞ ❝ some men have got good reason to fear their own shadows. ❞ ❝ some men cannot admit defeat. some keep fighting from beyond the grave. ❞ ❝ stare into their eyes, feast on their terror. then go in for the kill. ❞ ❝ forget not that you are a person right and honorable, devoted to doing good. ❞ ❝ ash shall fertilize the soil. by spring, the valley shall bloom once more. ❞ ❝ there’s lots of wraiths here. i hear them whispering every night. ❞ ❝ no one has the courage to face this threat! yet we must kill them, or sooner or later we will all die. ❞ ❝ you are a step away from losing your head. speak the truth and you might yet keep it. ❞ ❝ you carry within you the weight of a terrible tragedy. you are a good person, but lost. which is why you come across as grim. ❞ ❝ if i understand you correctly, you would rather help a monster than kill it? ❞ ❝ discouraged after a mere eight attempts? ❞ ❝ easier to pat someone on the back and hope things will work out than it is to face the truth. ❞ ❝ know that they can’t teach an old dog new tricks? ❞ ❝ my, you’ve grown beautiful. ❞ ❝ my swords a promise --- if i reach for it, heads will roll. ❞ ❝ one condition: no one dies. that clear? ❞ ❝ patience happens to be my weakness. so dispense with the dramatic pauses and talk. ❞ ❝ you proved today you can take care of yourself. ❞ ❝ you under the delusion you’ll complete your tasks, live happily ever after? ❞ ❝ i will not sit and twiddle my thumbs. i'm sick of waiting, sick of hiding! ❞ ❝ glad you know who i am. haven’t introduced yourself, though. ❞ ❝ i’ve seen a great deal --- cruelty, cynicism, greed. ❞ ❝ you tempt fate, because at heart you are unhappy. ❞ ❝ we had our chance, but...let it go. ❞ ❝ come now, you didn’t expect it to be that easy, did you? ❞ ❝ promise me one thing --- you’ll stop risking your life for others. ❞ ❝ instead of dwelling on the future, i’d rather live in the moment. ❞ ❝ i adore love stories. especially the ones that end happily ever after. ❞ ❝ we are drops of rain that together make a ferocious storm. ❞ ❝ the path to freedom is paved in blood, not ink. ❞ ❝ we’ll get our happy ending. one day. ❞ ❝ i’ll never forget what you did for me...and what we had together. ❞ ❝ don’t meddle in other people’s lives. ❞ ❝ i don’t get attached to places. just people. ❞ ❝ it’s dangerous, there are risks involved. understand that, don’t you? ❞ ❝ and here i hoped someone would finally take pity on me. ❞ ❝ seen a lot of dead in my time, but that must’ve been hard. ❞ ❝ air is strange...like dropping into a deep cellar on a hot day... ❞ ❝ wouldn’t carry a sword if i didn’t know how to use it. ❞ ❝ take it you didn't summon me to reminisce about the good old days, so... ❞ ❝ i was attacked --- had to defend myself. ❞ ❝ guards have never stopped me, you know that. ❞ ❝ treating the ill and wounded...it’s my calling. ❞ ❝ you think it’s enchanted? ❞ ❝ there are times when a woman should simply not explain her decision. ❞ ❝ won’t find too many comforts, but try to feel at home. ❞ ❝ i was looking for you...sometimes i thought you were just a step away. other times, i felt like i was going around in circles. ❞ ❝ i’ll remember you. always with a smile. ❞ ❝ i’d rather you not make anymore trouble --- for yourself, or us both. ❞ ❝ got the stench of corpes on you. ❞ ❝ you stood to gain --- that is why you saved me. ❞ ❝ sages invariably have hidden agendas. altruism is simply not part of their constitution. ❞ ❝ the gods have abandoned us. the mighty of this earth care not for our fate. ❞ ❝ is that admiration i hear in your voice? ❞ ❝ i started off heading in the opposite direction, but then turned around. ❞ ❝ i’m fed up. i won’t have others deciding for me behind my back. ❞ ❝ where’d you get this idea? what’s gotten into you? ❞ ❝ i don't expect you to commit now. think it over, what you've heard, what you feel. ❞ ❝ head torn clear off...takes incredible strength. ❞ ❝ desperate fathers have been known to do a lot to find their daughters. ❞ ❝ you cannot kill me. you know this... ❞ ❝ "i give you my heart”? what kind of spell is that? ❞ ❝ i’d go anywhere with you. ❞ ❝ why? because i am a woman? in a frock, rather than plate? i can take care of myself, i assure you. ❞ ❝ everything we discussed here, hope you’ll keep it to yourself. counting on it, in fact. ❞ ❝ trusted you once. won’t make that mistake again. ❞ ❝ shut up. i’ve heard enough of your bullshit. draw your weapon, let’s get this over with. ❞ ❝ exaggerating for effect, right? ❞ ❝ well, well...when cornered, you can bite. ❞ ❝ you cannot win...even if you kill me. ❞ ❝ you know i’m good at accomplishing the impossible. ❞ ❝ it’s nothing, really. you’d have done the same for me. ❞ ❝ you are not ready. you do not control your powers. ❞ ❝ you’re a tool in their hands, even if you don’t see it. ❞ ❝ i’d do anything for you, i would. you know that well. ❞ ❝ this is a land where the fantastic is normal, and the impossible occurs daily... ❞ ❝ know when a legend becomes a prophecy? when it gain believers. ❞ ❝ i thought you’d become a stranger to me. that i’d look at you and not feel a thing. but it’s not like that at all. nothing’s changed. ❞ ❝ to be honest, i just wanted to go on a walk with you. ❞ ❝ what i really want is to be with you, to...to be together and... ❞ ❝ this is not the kind of offer one refuses. ❞ ❝ despair devours you like maggots devour a corpse. ❞ ❝ before long every soul will kneel before you. ❞ ❝ i run into dilemmas all the time. situations where it's hard to judge, hard to know what's right, make a decision. this is not one of them. you disgust me. and deserve to die. ❞ ❝ you know me. i’m rare to praise, but when i do, it’s sincere. ❞ ❝ i'm not a thug for hire. ❞ ❝ i like being on adventures, sleeping under the stars, waking up with dew on my face. ❞ ❝ the dream's within reach now. i’m not about to let it go. ❞ ❝ unlike you, killing gives me no pleasure. ❞ ❝ can't speak for the world you inhabit, but in mine, nothing is ever black and white. ❞ ❝ you cannot possibly imagine how much i detest this place. ❞ ❝ stones you’ve got. but i didn’t think you’d have the stomach for a massacre. ❞ ❝ the dead man --- looked like a monster attacked him recently. ❞ ❝ finish all your business before you die. bid loved ones farewell. write your will. apologize to those you’ve wronged. otherwise, you’ll never truly leave this world. ❞ ❝ i've had nothing but nightmares lately. pretty horrible. ❞ ❝ i was wandering through the forest, breathing deep the air, and then i heard a strange sound, unsettling. ❞ ❝ had a few nice dreams. for example, in one we sat around a fire, drinking good wine, and all around people danced and laughed. ❞ ❝ they’re all dead! mountains of corpses. yet here i stand alone. all alone. ❞ ❝ this isn’t a game. men have died. ❞ ❝ if you wanna listen, listen, if not --- i'd rather you spared me your wit and throw me out now. ❞ ❝ you fed me, cared for me, had my wounds looked after. we're even now. ❞ ❝ you’ll return, you shall. our fates are bound. ❞ ❝ i’ve nothing left. not a fucking thing. ❞ ❝ i don’t question your abilities. i simply don’t trust you. ❞ ❝ what foolish things men sometimes do. ❞ ❝ dare harm me, and against you will rise all the powers of nature. ❞ ❝ did you destroy the evil powers? have you brought peace to my domain? ❞ ❝ well, perhaps i shall tell you about it one day. one day, but not today.. ❞ ❝ times like these, you never know what tomorrow will bring. ❞ ❝ you worry too much. what will be, will be. ❞ ❝ have you gone completely mad? we must leave here at once! ❞ ❝ time eats away at memories, distorts them. sometimes we only remember the good... sometimes only the bad. ❞ ❝ you don’t need magic to strip men of their humanity. i’ve seen plenty of examples. ❞ ❝ if i’m to choose between one evil and another, i’d rather not choose at all. ❞ ❝ see what i’ve got on my back? wolves fear it. kings do, too. ❞ ❝ i missed those awkward compliments of yours. ❞ ❝ sometimes i think it’s all too lovely to be true…that something’s bound to happen, another war or some other horror. ❞ ❝ took you a while. did you run into trouble? ❞ ❝ i just travel a lot. and i don't always happen upon such good and civil company. ❞ ❝ what can you know about saving the world, silly? ❞ ❝ done my share of fighting. wouldn't carry a sword if i didn't know to use it. ❞ ❝ all right, perhaps i wasn’t completely honest. ❞ ❝ ever thought this day would come? me and you...peace and quiet...bees buzzing, birds chirping. ❞ ❝ i detect a shadow of impatience in your face. ❞ ❝ took me a long time to find you. wasn't an easy road to travel. ❞ ❝ wipe that frown off your face, or i might think you don’t like me anymore. ❞ ❝ always believed attack was the best defense. ❞ ❝ once it’s all over, if we survive ... i wish to leave, go far away. and i’d like you to come with me. ❞ ❝ naturally, you suspect me of the worst. i don’t deserve that. ❞ ❝ we can fight another time, in another place, where the walls have no ears. ❞ ❝ once i was free...i shall be free once more. ❞ ❝ believe me...a tavern, mulled wine, our boots drying by the fire --- i’d like nothing better. ❞ ❝ prove it. kiss me. ❞ ❝ the prophecies do not lie...you cannot survive this struggle. ❞ ❝ i know you better than you think. ❞ ❝ you know me. nothing i like more than breaking rules. ❞ ❝ what’s happened? it’s so quiet, all of a sudden. ❞ ❝ thank you, for coming with me. ❞ ❝ i cannot do everything for you. use your head. ❞ ❝ i'm angry and tired. had to kill a lot of people along the way. ❞ ❝ we’ve come a long way, and i’d be damned if we’ve come to fail. ❞ ❝ i sense your pain. i see your fear. ❞ ❝ how’s this for an answer: kiss my ass. ❞ ❝ how many have you already killed? how many more might you still? ❞ ❝ i'm quite alive and extraordinarily well. better than i've ever been in this rotten life of mine. ❞ ❝ i like it when you smile. come here. everything will be all right. ❞ ❝ ugh. don’t fall in love with me. ❞ ❝ i don’t like you. in fact, i feel like slapping you. ❞ ❝ i'm too old to play the blushing bride...unless you ask nicely. ❞ ❝ that bit of my life --- forgotten it already. ❞ ❝ the world doesn’t need a hero. it needs a professional. ❞ ❝ next time you wonder why i’m so bitter...well, there's your answer. ❞ ❝ nothing wrong with having a drink in good company. ❞ ❝ i want you behind those rocks. and keep your mouth shut. ❞ ❝ nice of you to worry...but i've made my decision, and i won't change it. ❞ ❝ this is my story, not yours. you must let me finish telling it. ❞ ❝ after all that toil, i believe we deserve a bit of a rest. ❞ ❝ i was afraid you were dead. ❞ ❝ we’ve all some stain on our conscience. ❞ ❝ leaving the castle walls means certain death. ❞ ❝ right good jest. had us a laugh. now fuck off. ❞ ❝ i’ve heard about you. you bring trouble, or thus far have, always. ❞ ❝ ah, you’ve struck a raw nerve. memories of a time long past to which i’d rather not return now. ❞ ❝ we meet again. and it seems you need my help. again. ❞ ❝ got a relative i can talk to? someone - how do i say this - a smidgen less irritating? ❞ ❝ miss the target, you owe me fifty push-ups. hit it, you owe me twenty. ❞ ❝ oh. serious talk coming. ❞ ❝ i feel like one more lie'd be the last bitter drop in a chalice full of sorrow. ❞ ❝ romantic? thought we came here as friends. ❞ ❝ you’re hiding something. and that’s one thing i can’t stand. ❞ ❝ tell me, how do you do it? always manage to pull yourself together, focus, no matter what’s happening? ❞ ❝ i go wherever i please, whenever i please. ❞ ❝ uh oh. i know that look. ❞ ❝ sounds tempting. so tempting i don’t think i can refuse. ❞ ❝ so, what do you say to a moonlight ride on horseback...and dinner? ❞ ❝ perhaps...perhaps you’d stay just a bit longer? ❞ ❝ how are you feeling? sleep well? ❞ ❝ such a gloomy subject to broach... simply shouldn’t have. ❞

❝ such a gloomy subject to broach...i simply shouldn’t have --- not during our romantic dinner. ❞ ❝ got it. a bit of blackmail --- just your style. ❞ ❝ it’s the crack of dawn. where do you wanna go? ❞ ❝ shut up before you wake someone. last thing we need is a crowd. ❞ ❝ watch what you say. the trees have ears. ❞ ❝ no bow at hand, no spear. my sword was all i had. ❞ ❝ never expected you’d take such an interest in my private life. ❞ ❝ i’m special. always was the rare beauty. ❞ ❝ damn. been ages since we last saw each other. ❞ ❝ some charming orchards nearby. in bloom, even, so you almost can't smell the corpses. ❞ ❝ you know me. nothing i like more than breaking rules. ❞ ❝ man spends his whole life learning. ❞ ❝ if only i was as skilled with my words as i am with my blade. ❞ ❝ i wished to know what was going on in that head of yours. i thought perhaps i could help. ❞ ❝ i can tell something’s bothering you. ❞ ❝ dangerous times. each thinks five times before sticking their neck out. and i can’t blame them. ❞ ❝ now i care not in the slightest how you think or feel. ❞ ❝ i no longer know if i still hate you. ❞ ❝ i see how you look at me, and i see you wither. ❞ ❝ one last bit of advice --- find a new tavern. everyone here knows you. ❞ ❝ you won. no point bothering with ‘what ifs’. ❞ ❝ it’s time i took fate into my own hands. lived life anew...and truly, this time. ❞ ❝ ahh, 'cause you thought you'd killed me that time. surprise, sur-fucking-prise. ❞ ❝ who...who’s that? gods, i’m hallucinating. ❞ ❝ it’s no exaggeration to say i’ve never met a warrior like you in my life. you’re lithe as an eel and strong as a bear. ❞ ❝ i’ve a heart again, yet all it feels is grief, sadness and defeat. my life is a ruin. ❞ ❝ sought only to protect myself. in doing so, i put you in harm’s way. forgive me. ❞ ❝ there’s a charming grove nearby where kisses taste sweeter than anywhere else in the world. ❞ ❝ you’ve handled tougher situations. you’ll figure this one out. ❞ ❝ who you are and why you’ve come matter little. for you’ll not leave this place alive. ❞ ❝ i’m not panicking. just trying to be realistic. ❞ ❝ hahahahaha...i can’t believe you fell for that! ❞ ❝ i was actually going to recite an anthem praising your glory, but if you’re not in the mood... ❞ ❝ lying didn’t always come so easily to you. ❞ ❝ everyone wants to rule. i can do that better than any monarch. ❞ ❝ tell me what you want already, and make it quick. ❞ ❝ what a mess we made of it all...if i’d only known then how it would end... ❞ ❝ seems a faded dream now, but there were a time where i was happy. ❞ ❝ why’d you leave me? you claimed you loved me. ❞ ❝ never liked boats. not one bit. ❞ ❝ you must be mad. i’ve no intention to make things easier for you. ❞ ❝ i don’t wish to look at your face any longer than i must. ❞ ❝ please, no. i can’t stand spells. ❞ ❝ we agreed not to keep any secrets from one another. we promised. ❞ ❝ that i like! a man who boldly dares, damn the risks! ❞ ❝ i thought you bowed before no man. ❞ ❝ smile a bit wider. ...you were meant to smile, not bare your teeth. ❞ ❝ is that blood? have you hurt yourself? ❞ ❝ no reason to trouble the guards. i’ll go willingly. ❞ ❝ look at me. promise you’ll stay out of it. ❞ ❝ the minute we’re in trouble, you make me responsible for getting us out. ❞ ❝ they say they don’t fear the wrath of the gods. and you, do you fear it? ❞ ❝ i’ll let that pass. i know grief eats at your heart. ❞ ❝ we all lie sometimes. but lying to yourself is running away, whereas there’s really nowhere to run. ❞ ❝ don’t need your sympathy, just your help. ❞ ❝ your loss -- it must hurt, bad. but there wasn't anything we could do. ❞ ❝ i wish to leave, go far away. and i’d like you to come with me. ❞ ❝ i trust you have an explanation for this. a very good one. ❞ ❝ lot of bitterness in you. ❞ ❝ i assure you, you’re excellent at covering your tracks --- though not terribly subtle. but i’m even better at uncovering them. ❞ ❝ glad to see you happy...but i don’t think what we did was right. ❞ ❝ i look at you, and...and feel like i am exactly where i am supposed to be. at long last. ❞ ❝ i’m no coward. i'll not run this time. ❞ ❝ yes, i know you’ve trained with swords. but you’re still shit with them. ❞ ❝ how many innocents have you cut down? ❞ ❝ problem is, you’re not ordinary. you were born to greatness. ❞ ❝ not too late to surrender. ❞ ❝ men turn honest when they feel a blade at their throat. ❞ ❝ i'm not gonna drink. why dull my senses when i’m in such pleasant company? ❞ ❝ it’s bound to come in handy, and each time it does, you’ll think of me. ❞ ❝ lie still or you will bleed to death. ❞ ❝ your life is yours, exclusively. you choose who you are. ❞ ❝ for a minute there, was almost sure you’d leave me to die. ❞ ❝ there is never a second opportunity to make a first impression. ❞ ❝ it’s all because of that secretiveness of yours. ❞ ❝ plead the gods spare us, for without their favor we shall most certainly perish. ❞ ❝ i must say -- seen a lot, but nothing like this, never. ❞ ❝ you don’t look like you can get home on your own. i’ll walk you. ❞ ❝ all’s in the past, never to be restored. ❞ ❝ you know full well i never hold a grudge. i forgive you. ❞ ❝ the good gods sent you to me. ❞ ❝ and the guilt, the responsibility of all this, lies with me. ❞ ❝ you’ve only been here five minutes, and you’ve already managed to offend me twice. ❞ ❝ you will certainly fetch me a higher bounty alive. ❞ ❝ what's wrong with my beard? always thought it added to my dignity. ❞ ❝ if i’m to die today, i wish to look smashing for the occasion. ❞ ❝ i was stupid. stupidity costs a lot. ❞ ❝ even your humblest requests seem like threats. ❞ ❝ your motives do not interest me. only results. ❞ ❝ and you laughed, oh, how sweetly, how brightly you laughed! ❞ ❝ you don’t know how it is. to see someone you love die. because of you, for you. ❞ ❝ to have a scapegoat --- that’s the key. ❞ ❝ no need to fear me. ❞ ❝ sorry, but -- your life story? just not interested. ❞ ❝ with you...it was love at first sight. ❞ ❝ gotta understand. you don’t betray people like me. ❞ ❝ i struggled long to find a place where i’d feel safe, needed. until i finally arrived here. ❞ ❝ just don’t faint on me. ❞ ❝ could never be there for you everyday. but i’m happy to see you always. and today, i’m all yours. ❞ ❝ what others think...your image...that’s all you care about. ❞ ❝ in these foul times one must be wary, even of their friends. ❞ ❝ come on, don’t get angry - it’s not good for you.. ❞ ❝ so, apart from the sword play, you know potions and all that? ❞ ❝ i actually envy your sense of wonder --- common in children, and morons. ❞ ❝ a lot of misfortune for a small village. ❞ ❝ who are you? do you seek to hurt me as well? ❞ ❝ the hand that feeds can also strike its wayward wards. ❞ ❝ shh. eat now. we’ll speak once you’ve rested. ❞ ❝ brother has turned against brother, the land is soaked in blood. evil reigns stronger than ever before. ❞ ❝ good looking and clever. where’ve you been hiding? ❞ ❝ doesn’t bother you, having monsters for neighbours? ❞ ❝ stay here --- no matter what happens. ❞ ❝ i never told you this, but i’ve always felt it: i love you. ❞ ❝ listen to me this once -- don't take matters into your own hands. ❞ ❝ love these moments. the air before a battle -- nothing smells as sweet. ❞ ❝ they tried to get in through the main gate. i’m afraid they could succeed next time. ❞ ❝ too many claim you’re evil. ❞ ❝ why are you so eager to help strangers? sit your ass down or there’ll be misfortune. ❞ ❝ you'd never have managed without me, would you? come, now, admit it. ❞ ❝ for those who remain, death should never take precedence over life. ❞ ❝ thanks for coming. thanks for risking your life for me. ❞ ❝ don’t force me to speak of it. no more, please. ❞ ❝ when doubt plagues your mind, follow your instincts. should they steer you wrong and land you in muck, you'll land at peace with yourself. and that's most important. ❞ ❝ just know that i know you're here. one misstep, one error...you'll make a mistake, it's inevitable...i'll be the first to learn it. ❞ ❝ i do not know you. i’ve done you no harm. ❞ ❝ try not to panic...just doesn’t suit you. ❞ ❝ we’ve come a long way, and i’ll be damned if we’ve come to fail. ❞ ❝ had i known what would happen here, i'd never have come. ❞ ❝ i can say i’ve seen it all now. ❞ ❝ these scars have long yearned for your tender caress. ❞ ❝ i don’t fall victim to curses. i cast them. ❞ ❝ come outside. we can hold hands and stare at the sky. ❞ ❝ we’ll work well together --- i can see that already. ❞ ❝ from the first moment i set eyes upon you that fateful evening, my heart has only beaten for you. ❞ ❝ i trust you as much as you trust me --- not at all. ❞ ❝ you’ve gone all red in the face just for talking about it. ❞ ❝ wake up. it’s just a dream. wake up! ❞ ❝ i still don’t believe everything that happened. ❞ ❝ i never miss twice. ❞ ❝ bit too old to believe in bedtime stories, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ you humans have...unusual tastes. ❞ ❝ didn’t think it worthwhile to tell me, warn me of your plans? ❞ ❝ i think you will not attack one unarmed. ❞ ❝ the deeper i get into this, the more i gotta wonder...why’re you even helping me? ❞ ❝ to live in peace, we first must kill. ❞ ❝ at times fate muddles our path, and life turns toilsome, hard to bear. ❞ ❝ i fight for whoever’s paying the best. or whoever’s easier to rob. ❞ ❝ do not let my beauty distract your aim. ❞ ❝ i’ve seen what is to come, i know destruction approaches. ❞ ❝ the war awoke an ancient power. an evil one that feeds on bloodshed. ❞ ❝ guess you’re no stranger to fury, either. ❞ ❝ think i’m gonna fall for that? no chance, you’re wrong. ❞ ❝ gotta admit --- you do pretty well with a sword. ❞ ❝ you dare tell me to calm down?! you?! ❞ ❝ let's say i go about my business, and when there's coin to be earned, i don't readily turn it down. ❞ ❝ i wish to know the truth...be it sweet, be it painful, i wish to know. ❞ ❝ men, the polite ones at least, would call me a monster. ❞ ❝ even i grow ill at the sight of you. ❞ ❝ i’m going on a walk. or is that not allowed either? because i could break my leg? ❞ ❝ plan’s crazier than it is sane...but there’s an irrestistible charm to it. ❞ ❝ unbelievable! you said something romantic! you! ❞ ❝ we may not survive this. in fact, our chances are slim. ❞ ❝ if anything should happen to you... ❞ ❝ there’s not been a dark cloud yet that didn’t have a silver lining. ❞ ❝ those are some fresh lookin’ scars you’ve got there. ❞ ❝ no. no more about the battle. just hold me. and say something nice. ❞ ❝ stay. this is the only home we’ve ever had. ❞ ❝ you’re so charming when you try to be funny. ❞ ❝ not proud of it...yet i considered all the options and found none better. ❞ ❝ i look far different from when you last saw me. ❞ ❝ i admire your optimism. wish i shared it. ❞ ❝ and...try not to draw any attention to yourself. ❞ ❝ nightmares haunt our nights and days. folk sleepwalk from their homes, never to return. ❞ ❝ forgive me. it couldn’t be avoided. i truly am sorry. ❞ ❝ well i’ve departed, escaped, been forced to flee so many times…yet i always returned. you ought to be used to it by now. ❞ ❝ the human mind is as wild and unexplored a place as any land far beyond the sea. ❞ ❝ you think you’ve won. you are wrong. i can’t die. ❞ ❝ you’re something more. something more. ❞ ❝ barely nicked me, i’ll be fine. ❞ ❝ it’s just that i felt...stifled, in your shadow. i’d have suffocated had i stayed. ❞ ❝ come, don’t just stand there. i want a hug. ❞ ❝ it’s lovely here! i could stay forever. ❞ ❝ do what you will, but leave me out of this. ❞ ❝ we should end this discussion -- before i say something i'll regret. ❞ ❝ you all right? you’re as pale as death. ❞ ❝ let’s get back to the hut. i’ll protect you along the way. ❞ ❝ not to keen on talking about it, are you? ❞ ❝ it’s better to die than to live in the knowledge that you’ve done something that needs forgiveness. ❞ ❝ i was afraid you were dead. ❞ ❝ at times one must use reason, rather than blades. ❞ ❝ need some peace. gotta prepare. ❞ ❝ i suspected it might not be the best idea, but i was desperate, had no choice. ❞ ❝ so tell me how it happened. step by step. ❞ ❝ it was a bit of a lark, a jest. i meant to bring it all back, i swear. ❞ ❝ if i wanted to kill you, you'd be long dead by now. ❞ ❝ that is precisely one of the reasons why i abhor your world. your senseless brutality. ❞ ❝ i won’t let them take you, you know that? ❞ ❝ magic...childish hocus-pocus. it’s just not interesting. what i find fascinating are true tales of true human lives. ❞ ❝ save your praise for others. i couldn’t give a shit. ❞ ❝ well, well, i am impressed. doubted you still had it in you, frankly. ❞ ❝ i like you. don’t make me hurt you. ❞ ❝ you know very little can hurt you being immortal, so you take wild risks, chase extreme sensations. there comes a point you’ve done it all, and all seems boring and monotonous. ❞ ❝ with you i finally feel...harmony. a calm. feel like things are the way they're supposed to be. ❞ ❝ i'm afraid the dishwater’s as good as it gets in this establishment. ❞ ❝ sorry to take so long, but i had to deal with the guards. ❞ ❝ i’d never miss a chance to spend a pleasant evening with you. ❞ ❝ you know too much. yet one more reason why you must die. ❞ ❝ or perhaps you seek to trick me. ❞ ❝ if you acknowledge any gods...start praying, now. ❞ ❝ it’s very simple. you either deceived me...or not. ❞ ❝ i am known neither for my sense of humor nor for my patience. ❞ ❝ naturally, it would be easier with your help, but...you irritate me. ❞ ❝ love questions like that. am i holding up? what, my dick? ❞ ❝ we never hunt in these woods. not even if it means the whole village starves. ❞ ❝ we’re only ever the ones to know the truth about ourselves. ❞ ❝ you’re insolent because you believe i cannot afford to hurt you. and you’re right. ❞ ❝ i detest graveyards, especially wandering them alone. ❞ ❝ you know too much. you impede me too often. and i find your arrogance an annoyance. ❞ ❝ i know it’s wartime, but try not to be a hero, all right? ❞ ❝ i don’t know that i’ll make for engaging company. in truth, i rarely talk to men. ❞ ❝ you know...had a dream about you recently. ❞ ❝ i thought i could at least count on you to treat me seriously. ❞ ❝ don’t ask questions you know the answers to. it makes you look stupid. ❞ ❝ you’re nosy. starting to piss me off, you know? ❞ ❝ what did i do to deserve this? have i given you cause to doubt my intentions? ❞ ❝ don’t fret about me. i always get by somehow, right? ❞ ❝ i wanted to go with you --- that was my idea. ❞ ❝ i shan’t stray a step from your side. ❞ ❝ if that’s what it takes to save the world, it’s better to let that world die. ❞ ❝ what’s that supposed to mean? that a threat? ❞ ❝ i’m offering a great and true adventure, an experience like no other, the fate of only the chosen few. ❞ ❝ that’s like choosing between pestilence and the plague. ❞ ❝ what’s it matter? i only ever thought of you. ❞ ❝ did you know you’ve gained twenty-seven new scars since we’ve last saw each other? ❞ ❝ i need to know the details if you want me to get my hands dirty. ❞ ❝ don’t know you. go away. ❞ ❝ ever vigilant, even in your sleep. quite vampire-like, in fact. ❞ ❝ gotten used to people treating me like a freak, an outcast. ❞ ❝ we share a cause, then. just like the old days. ❞ ❝ ever considered becoming a burglar? skill like that’d come in awful handy. ❞ ❝ there’s never been a frown that couldn’t be turned upside down. ❞ ❝ honesty's an attribute of the truly brave --- and thus the privilege of the very few. ❞ ❝ you do not have a monopoly in altruism, my friend. ❞ ❝ great love demands great sacrifices. ❞ ❝ i believe it wise at times to share one’s secrets, unburden oneself to those one can trust. ❞ ❝ it would be nice from time to time if you could sit back and enjoy life, instead of going around solving everyone’s problems. ❞ ❝ we shall dance until the break of dawn! ❞ ❝ a man could lose his head for a lass like you. ❞ ❝ don’t have to come if you don’t want. wait here. ❞ ❝ never seen this side of you. ❞ ❝ i’m to kiss the ground you walk on, is that it? but you just did your duty. ❞ ❝ the day you give me a smile...that moment, that’s what i’m waiting for. ❞ ❝ i need a soul intelligent and clever, an individual who fears no dare. someone like you. ❞ ❝ if i was you i’d catch some shut-eye, not go on flapping my tongue. ❞ ❝ the plan is simple...which does not mean it will be easy to execute. ❞ ❝ sometimes you really get on my nerves, you know. ❞ ❝ you shall not turn on me, use what i say against me? you shall not tell anyone? ❞ ❝ gave you a chance. should’ve taken it. ❞ ❝ always better to do a bit more and even gain nothing by it, than to do too little and face regret. ❞ ❝ it’s lovely out here. the birds singing, the bees buzzing...blissful, really. ❞ ❝ what a lovely dress. the color suits you exquisitely. ❞ ❝ pretty fantastic tale. hard as hell to believe. ❞ ❝ it’s time you discovered my romantic side. ❞ ❝ you gotta understand the whole world doesn’t revolve around you. ❞ ❝ can you not see i am out of my mind with worry? ❞ ❝ every rose has its thorn, and there are no happy endings. ❞ ❝ pretty quick to reject help. why is that? ❞ ❝ don’t need to like each other. just gotta do our jobs. ❞ ❝ frankly, if i can do something for you, i'll do it, willingly. ❞ ❝ you were hired you kill me, were you not? ❞ ❝ what’s it like, going toe to toe with a monster? knowing you’ve only two options --- to kill or be killed? ❞ ❝ this place --- there’s evil here. death hangs in the air. ❞ ❝ intellect counts as much as strength. ❞ ❝ i run back inside, hasp the doors, and then i hear it --- someone whispering my name. ❞ ❝ you know i like you. unlike the rest of this lot, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. ❞ ❝ if you love somebody, set them free. ❞ ❝ if you hate me so deeply, why don’t you tell me to my face? ❞ ❝ i’m afraid you’d not realize which way the wind was blowing if you pissed straight into it. ❞ ❝ that was courageous. i'd never expect it from you. ❞ ❝ i am not easily impressed, but i must admit you have succeeded, my dear. ❞ ❝ kill me if you must. i’ve nothing to live for anyway. ❞ ❝ aren’t you an extraordinary beauty. ❞ ❝ never suspected you believed such things. ❞ ❝ wait...you want to go with me? out of the question. ❞ ❝ used to it. not the first time i’ve been hunted. ❞ ❝ enough of this hesitation, this fretting, these feelings of guilt! ❞ ❝ strange working with you. strange, but great. ❞ ❝ give me a moment. i must don something more appropiate and concealing. ❞ ❝ killing comes as naturally to me as blowing my nose. ❞ ❝ ...... another tale of a life compromised and ultimately claimed by greed and ambition. ❞ ❝ in the future, though, remember this --- i can look after myself ❞ ❝ you'd really worry about me if i went on alone? ❞ ❝ you have many merits. you merely hide them from the world very diligently. ❞ ❝ is it true virtue always trumps villainy? ❞ ❝ watch my movements. i’m spry as a cat and sly as a fox. ❞ ❝ ah, if only this could last forever. ❞ ❝ few i can rely on like i can on you. kinda hoping you think the same of me. ❞ ❝ you are angry at the whole world. you feel inferior, feel pain, though you mask this with confidence, arrogance, even. ❞ ❝ there exist worries for which there quite simply is no other medicine. ❞ ❝ your bones look thin, your breathing’s wheezy. afraid one punch might kill you. ❞ ❝ to love is to build a house of cards, or play a game of chess, but one word or ill-thought move and you must start it all afresh. ❞ ❝ i’m doing what i ever wanted to do, being who i wanted to be. i believe that’s one definition of happiness. ❞ ❝ you’ve not an ounce of refinement in you, have you? ❞ ❝ pain rules the body, but fear is born in the heart. ❞ ❝ either i get burned, or i’ll burn all else down. no other options. ❞ ❝ should you decide your sword is the sole solution, i shall not stand in your way. ❞ ❝ c’mon, come closer. ❞ ❝ would you prefer i treated you like the lying manipulater you are? ❞ ❝ i regret nothing. one lives but once. ❞ ❝ i just hope this tale has a happy ending. for me, for you. for everyone. ❞ ❝ just gonna go our seperate ways? no parting words? ❞ ❝ you still stand to be quite useful to me. ❞ ❝ i suppose you wanted to frighten me...alas, you didn’t in the least. after all, i’m a monster too, am i not? ❞ ❝ i trust no one. learned that long ago. ❞ ❝ it cannot be! you actually have a sense of humor. ❞ ❝ didn’t ask for a lecture on probability. need a simple answer --- yes or no. ❞ ❝ another word, and i shall spill even more blood. yours. ❞ ❝ you feel resentment, i understand, but we shall work through all the unfortunate matters of the past. ❞ ❝ stop playing dumb. i know everything...your plan. ❞ ❝ honestly can’t see what all those dames see in you --- you’re a stick in the mud. ❞ ❝ not showy, lovely location...perfect for romantic getaways. ❞ ❝ i hope you’re not upset i came like this, without warning... ❞ ❝ i’m still a long way from mastering anything. but i am trying. ❞ ❝ now i know how you do it. just annoy your opponents to death. ❞ ❝ word on the street is there’s a hefty bounty on your head. ❞ ❝ for a few days now i’ve been having dizzy spells. ❞ ❝ i’ve always had a way with ostensibly dangerous types. ❞ ❝ wound doesn’t look good. patch that up quick if i were you, before it starts festering. ❞ ❝ always seemed to me you were a very complicated creature, by nature. not one to resort to such simple methods like drinking your worries away. ❞ ❝ may i be honest? yes, i’m nervous. i really would prefer to just run off. ❞ ❝ father always said a wise man learns from others’ mistakes, so here i am, learning from his. ❞ ❝ ever since that horrid night...everything has changed. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? afraid? gut feeling queasy? ❞ ❝ used to bother me, all your secrets...now i know if you have something to tell me, you’ll tell me. ❞ ❝ i so don’t feel like going anywhere. sit here a while longer? ❞ ❝ there’s something i’d like to know...how can you be so damned calm? ❞ ❝ my knees quake like a carnival rattle. ❞ ❝ honestly didn’t think this’d work. doubted anything would happen. ❞

#roleplay starters #roleplay meme #long post for ts /

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highfaelucien · 3 years

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Ardere - A Helion/Lady of Autumn Fic

y’all heathens made me have feelings so i wrote a thing. hurt/comfort, angst, all sorts. Tagging some folks who inspired this with their emotional dashboard shenanigans/that I feel would Appreciate the content. @exiledelain @confused-as-all-hell @asteria-of-mars @ratabrasileira @ladyvanserra @vanserrasvalkyrie @rarephloxes @queen-hypaxia

Title: Ardere

Length: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, given Lady Autumn’s situation

Summary: Set during the High Lords meeting in ACOWAR. Canon compliant, I suppose, but do any of us care about that anymore?? Hestia, the Lady of the Autumn Court, seeks her oldest lover and comfort Helion for a stolen night of love and reconnection. Helion POV, emotional hurt/comfort, bit of angst.

Teaser:

‘" Hestia," he whispered, with the same reverence he'd speak the name of a goddess in her holiest temple.

Instinct bade him go to her, and he did not fight it. He didn't even try.

For a moment he thought she might refuse him, might insist upon caution. But the next she was in his arms, and as he held her close and breathed her in, he knew he hadn't been truly warm since last he'd been able to embrace her.

"Helion," she murmured into his chest.

The sound of her voice wrapped around his name was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. All Hyben need do to break him was ask him to defect in her voice and he would obey without a thought.

AO3: Link

"I cannot spare long."

The book he'd been flipping idly through dropped at once from his fingers at the sound of that voice.

Before he'd finished turning to her, her scent hit him. So warm, so inviting, it nearly knocked him back into his chair.

Then he beheld her.

The first time he'd clapped eyes on her, all those centuries ago, she'd left him breathless and stunned.

Like an Autumn storm that had ravaged every part of his being and left him, naked and awed, before its power and majesty. She had blown into his life with an unexpected abruptness as yet unmatched.

He'd been an arrogant prick at that age. Cauldron, he was still an arrogant prick. But he'd been used to everyone's eyes, male or female, following him as he moved through a room.

Those gazes found him and they didn't leave. He was High fae. He was a High Lord's heir. He'd been made to rule Day and to look damned good while doing it.

He'd been accustomed to being wanted, to inspiring lust and envy by simply existing.

Never, before her, had he been on the other side.

He'd never seen someone so beautiful. So consuming and captivating that he hadn't been sure of being able to win their lust and love with a simple smile and an effortless word.

She'd shaken something in him that day. She had entered his world and unmade him with a glance. Then reconstructed him, exactly as she'd found him, with one stark difference. At the core of the man she had rebuilt was a need for her. Not merely her beautiful body, but her heart, her soul. He'd known, in that moment, that she had him. And always would.

The years had taken much from her. And holy gods, did he know it. But they had not taken this, her ability to so thoroughly destroy him that he was reborn at once as her servant in but a single glance.

" Hestia," he whispered, with the same reverence he'd speak the name of a goddess in her holiest temple.

Instinct bade him go to her, and he did not fight it. He didn't even try.

"Helion," she murmured into his chest.

The sound of her voice wrapped around his name was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. All Hyben need do to break him was ask him to defect in her voice and he would obey without a thought.

For all that he made a show, and tell, if he was fair, about what the Cauldron gave him with regards to his body, particularly his glorious thighs, that wasn't his true pride.

No, the thing he held most valuable was his mind which contained the knowledge of a thousand libraries and more.

He didn't earn his name by clearing through spells with his thighs. Fuck no. His wit, his cunning, his intellect, that was where his true power, his true strength as a High Lord came from.

That was why Hestia had always managed to claim him so thoroughly. All these centuries later and he still couldn't think around her. Couldn't form a single coherent thought while her scent filled his lungs. It travelled from there directly to his brain, and filled it with stolen afternoons and illicit nights spent in the only place they truly belonged.

Drawing away, in itself an agony, but one he was rewarded for, as it let him look into her face.

He cradled it between his hands, so careful. so delicate. She was not a fragile woman, he knew that well. She was of the forge, with fire in her veins, and iron in her bones.

The world saw the silence, the frailty of her body, and the resignation of her fate and mistook that for softness, and docility. He knew better.

This woman put the heroes of the War to shame. Her strength, her courage, her will - if they had any idea they'd have written epic poems about her resilience and ballads to her spirit.

Drakon wouldn't have lasted an hour in her place. Had she been in his, the damned War would have ended so fast they wouldn't have been able to call it one.

Yet he held her with all the gentleness that was in him. Not because he feared she might break without it; but because he knew she would find none elsewhere.

His fingers tenderly brushed her hair from her eyes. Like her, their, son's it was a red as sure as blood. But hers spiralled from her in a cacophony of raucous curls. They were contained, now, with a thick leather band around her head. He would always remember them wild, and free, as she was meant to be.

As he moved them aside, he saw the shadow of a bruise around one of her beautiful russet eyes. Hidden well, but...

His body went taut, jaw clenching instinctively. She felt the tension coiling in him, and laid her hands gently over his.

"Don’t," was all she said, voice soft, but unyielding, like the sun’s gentle rays as it rose each morning.

"Not a heartbeat has passed for me since that day," he rumbled, voice deeper and darker than his usual light, playful timbre." That I have not thought about the choice that was made, and begged the Mother to let me change it."

She faced him steadily and said, " You know I made the choice that was available to mem" she moved closer, her body melting against his, like the hot metal of a blade folded around itself to create something more, "Not the one I wanted."

"I know, my hearthlight,” he whispered softly, sensing her smile at the old pet name he used for her, “And I would never blame you for that. But as for myself-"

A coward. This woman. This holy, burning creature. This caged forest fire... She loved a coward.

Hestia placed a finger to his lips, silencing him, " What good does it do," she murmured the rich warmth of her voice caressing him like a thick blanket on a cold winter night, “To dwell upon the past? To linger, in misery, and shame in a single moment of your immortal life?”

He opened his mouth to answer her, but she knew him too well, and silenced him with but a single look.

"Will your regret force back the sun?” she demanded with that quiet spirit he loved so keenly, “Will your sadness take us back? Will your guilt rewrite the pages of the history books which have been gathering dust in your libraries for centuries?"

She was such a small thing. She always had been. And seemed more so, held between his muscular arms. Yet she dwarfed him now.

Like the flicker of a candle flame catching and summoning a raging inferno to remind him she was but a fragment of a force of nature, bound in skin, but never truly caged.

"If I could have," he said at last, voice a little hoarse as though he'd inhaled thick smoke, “I would have done so a thousand times over. And paid any price to do so."

He had tried. He'd never confess it to another soul, not even to the Mother herself upon his deathbed, but he had tried. Tried to rip apart the fabric of all reality with nothing but his bare hands and love for her.

A part of him was still surprised that it had not been enough. Because it was. Reality had simply not accepted that particular facet of its existence.

"I know you would have, lucky fluke," all these years and still she called him that.

A name she'd hung on him to tease the first day they had met. He'd baldly called their meeting the Mother's own ordained fate. She'd laughed, with a sound like falling leaves, and named it, and him, lucky fluke.

Then, the words had been edged with mockery. Now they echoed with all of their history, with all of their fondness, and all of her love.

"But time goes on. That sun of yours still journeys East to West, and we still live with the decisions we made upon a summer's night a million fireflies' lifetimes ago."

" Hestia-" he began, but she quietened him once more.

"When I wish to look back, Helion, I shall find myself a mirror,” she said, with the strength that had held her together all these decades of pain and misery, turned upon him now to remind him that she would not yield.

“I will not live my life wading through times I have already endured,” she said, voice softer now, but no less intent, “I have no wish to allow him to cause me pain in the few and rare times that are my own. I shall make pleasant moments here, with you, and that is what I ask of you. To be with me. Here. Now. And to love me while we can."

"I am yours, Lady,” he breathed.

With the same breath he’d first pledged that to her centuries ago. Before the world had taken the freedom she craved so much, and given him a power he’d never wanted. A tattoo of her heart had etched itself over his own, in a vibrant red, a marker of the bargain he’d made. Unintended, but not regretted.

“From now until my sun fades from this world unto the next," he promised her once more, one hand over his heart.

"Until I find you there as well," she replied, as she had all those years ago, leaning up, while drawing him down, and touching her forehead to his.

He loved her. Oh, Cauldron, he loved her, and whatever the Mother had used to make her, he loved that too.

"Come," she said softly," Let us make the most of what time we have."

So they did.

"What do you want from me, Hestia?" he whispered, pressing the worlds into her thick hair, his face buried in the crown of her head.

She looked at him, and answered as she did each time with aching certainty, and absolute truth." Everything."

"Then take it." he whispered, a devoted priest at last within the presence of his deity, “All I have, and all I do not. Take it all."

So she did.

They had no need of words in that hallowed space when bodies and beings connected, skin to skin, and soul to soul.

The breath it would have cost to provide a vessel for their thoughts would have only felt like a barrier between them.

They had no wish for that.

He knew her thoughts. And she knew his. They did not need to share them with the air and fireflies.

For themselves, they gave voice to those thoughts in the lost language of lovers. Spoken in the gasps of breath and sweating palms.Thundering hearts, and hungering lips. Gasping lungs, and grasping touch.

And every thought the same: I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Then came the quiet. The gentle tangle of limbs. Eyes closed, heartbeats aligned. Willing the dawn to wait for them.

They did not sleep. They would not waste time on dreams when they already had everything they could ever hope to find in that untamable oblivion already contained within their embrace.

"It has been some time," Helion said at last, loath to break the spell of the silent commune of their souls, but such was his nature,"I thought the most of you I would ever make love to again was the echo of our last time, the memory of you."

He shifted slightly, so that he could see her face, all peaceful lines and soft curls, her eyes still closed.

"Why now, Hestia? With him," his jaw tightened at the mere mention of that excuse for a male, "So close the risk-"

"Is minimal," she interceded smoothly. Still without opening an eye, she continued." I drugged his wine. He shall sleep until daybreak. At least."

Helion opened his mouth, then closed it, refusing to be drawn off course "You didn't answer my question."

"I thought the answer would be obvious to you, lucky fluke," she murmured.

"You know you reduce me to the wits of a mere mortal, hearthlight," he said, half burying the words in her thick hair.

" Hmm," she hummed, thoughtful, "Must I spell it out for you, then, brightheart?"

"If you would be so good, my lady."

She was quiet so long he thought she might have succumbed to sleep, despite their pact.

At last she said, quiet as an Autumn breeze, " Each morning, when I open my eyes, and watch the sun rise beyond my window, I prepare myself for pain."

He flinched, but she seemed not to notice, continuing calmly.

"This has been my burden to bear through all my years of marriage And I have borne it well, without falter, or complaint.

"I have known pain in many forms, and I have carried every one. But upon the horizon, I saw a new pain. One I had not confronted for so long. And I knew, in my soul, that I was not equal to it. That, at last, I would meet a battle I could not win. And so I found a way to avoid fighting it altogether."

"What did you foresee, hearthlight?" he forced himself to say.

"This war," she murmured, her ever-steady voice cracking in a way that made him pull her closer still. "This war came. And it claimed you. It took you from me when you had not been mine in centuries. And I could not abide that."

"I am always yours," he whispered fiercely.

"Peace, brightheart," she soothed, "I know that. But I had to feel it. I had to erase the idea that last time was the last. I had to have you, and hold you, and love you once more before the end. Or else I knew I could not face this war. Not alone."

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and held it, eyes closed, heart pounding, fighting every urge not to speak the words batting past the lump in his throat. But he had never been as strong as her.

"I cannot let you go this time, Hestia," he groaned, " I cannot sit idly, and smile, and tease while I've willingly let you go again."

"If I can find the strength to do what must be done," she said, with iron in her words, "Then you must find the strength to let me."

"I can't," he said, voice breaking. She found his hand and squeezed it, "I am a High Lord in my own right now, Hestia." he breathed to her." I could-"

"No, you could not." she said, firm, unyielding, a rock in an icy stream, with waters all around, that had not moved in centuries, and would not now.

"There is a war coming, Helion. Win or lose in a fight for me, it would shatter this fragile alliance, and any hope for Pythian. So you will do no such thing." she went on, before he could protest, "For we must win this war. For our courts. For our people. For our freedom. And for our son."

For the first time her voice broke. Before they fell, his fingers had already lifted to wipe her tears. the only ones she would shed. Not for herself. Never for herself. But for her, for their, son... She had never confronted him with it so boldly before.

He closed his eyes, unable to deny her. Unable to even deny her.

"We have to tell him, Hestia," he said, so softly.

"We must," she agreed, "But I have not been allowed to see him in almost three hundred years. And I will not have you tell him alone. As much for his sake as for yours."

He nodded, head bowed.

"Together, then. If I make it through what is to come."

Reaching up she took his chin between her fingers and drew his face down to meet her eyes.

"You will not die this war, Helion," she told him.

Her words flared with that fire she was forced to hide from everyone, everyone but him.

"Because if you try, I will drag the Mother by her hair to your grave and force her to dig you up for me."

He smiled at those words, at the certainty that she would do exactly as she said.

"That almost makes me want to try it, you know," he purred, tracing vague patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder with his thumb as he spoke, "Just to see you do that."

She actually growled at him which, from her, was enough to utterly dissuade him from the notion.

They lay in gentle silence together, until the velvet blackness of night bled to indigo, as the careless artist of time spilled the white she used to craft the stars into the sky itself and melted its darkness.

"I've always found it ironic," he mused, "That being High Lord of Day hasn't blessed me with the power to halt the sun, and stop the day from intruding."

"That is your duty, brightheart." she replied with a soft smile." You must assert yourself upon the land, its sleepy lovers, and restless thieves alike, and force them to make haste and more. Without you there would be no growth, no change, only stagnation and decay."

She cupped his face in her hand, a hand now lined, to show the life she'd lived. Without him. His heart lurched at the thought.

But her voice drew him back to her as she said, "And without Day, the nights would not seem nearly so precious."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her waiting mouth, silent thanks for her words, the feeling behind them. He held her eyes a moment more. spinning out this last bit of thread, like a frugal weaver making the most of fate's allotment.

Then he said, irritably, "I'm still going to have words with Thesan later today."

She laughed as he said that, but she laughed as she withdrew from him.

How fittingly ironic that the sweetest sound he'd ever heard paired in this moment with the bitterest sorrow he'd ever felt.

He watched her as she withdrew the new gown she'd thought to bring. At a silent glance from her he rose, still naked, and helped to seal her back into her cage of cotton and lace.

He combed and braided her hair, as he'd done a thousand times before. Then, heart aching, as it had a thousand times before, he spun a ward around her, to mask his scent where it mingled with hers. She could carry no reminders of this night save fragile memory.

Then, like the night, with one final kiss, she was gone. The chamber felt cold, even as it was bathed in his light.

Wordless, he pulled on a robe and strode onto his balcony to greet the rising of his sun.

It was a hollow warmth, compared to her, and brought him little comfort.

As he gazed ahead into his eternity. Alone, once more. Lonely in a way only she would know. For the world saw the friends he surrounded himself with, and the lovers he brought to his bed, without ever knowing the gaping void in his soul that he could never fill with them.

Closing his eyes, he drew in one last breath of her, of them, their scents still mingling on his skin, then banished it.

He turned towards the light, facing this new day, and begged the Mother to lend him even a fragment of his heartlight's strength that he might face it.

***

#helion spell cleaver #the lady of the autumn court #helion x lady of autumn #hestia vanserra #hearthlight #(that's what im tagging them)#(bc she doesn't have a name so im going OLD SCHOOL SHIP TAG STYLE)#this made me feel things #acotar series #text post tag #long post #my fic #mine #hearthlight fic #helion fic #hestia fic #mama lucien

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

I am grinning like a FOOL at nmj/wwx/lwj. Aaaaaahhh just imagine the looks on everyone’s faces ESPECIALLY the jins, can you IMAGINE. Every sect except their own has entered a marriage alliance in one swoop, and that marriage alliance includes three of the most powerful cultivators alive. I’m in love with this.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, past 5 - aka Pastime (with good company)

“I can forgive you for getting married, but not for making me tell Uncle about it,” Lan Xichen said without ceremony as he swept into the room like a puff of aggravated white cloud – and yes, he was well aware that was how he was coming off, he had plenty of self-awareness. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was actually upset anymore; he hadn’t seen so many secret little smiles from Lan Wangji since their childhood. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him turn that shade of red before. I think he was even thinking of throwing something at me!”

“Did you mention the bit where it technically fulfilled his requirements regarding devoting to a single spouse?” Nie Mingjue asked from behind his teacup, eyes bright with amusement and not even a speck of shame. It was just like him, too; Nie Mingjue was not one to regret decisions he had made. “Huaisang mentioned that you’d said that: I rather liked that one.”

“I did,” Lan Xichen said, making a face at Nie Mingjue and causing him to laugh. “It didn’t help. As you probably could have guessed, you – oh! A-Yao, be careful, you’re spilling the tea.”

Jin Guangyao looked down at where he’d filled his teacup to overflowing. “Ah,” he said, and put the teapot down, reaching for a piece of cloth to clean up the mess on the table. “Forgive me, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing…I’m sorry, er-ge, did you say that da-ge was marrying? And you – told your uncle about it, for some reason?”

“Well, there wasn’t much of a choice,” Lan Xichen sighed, sitting down and accepting the cup of tea that Nie Mingjue slid over to him instead. “Since one of his brides is going to be my brother.”

“Your brother? You mean – Wangji? And - one of his brides…?”

“He only has the one brother; who else could he mean?” Nie Mingjue pointed out, and Lan Xichen shot him a glare to remind him to behave – it wasn’t Jin Guangyao’s fault that he probably had more siblings than he could count on both hands and feet, after all.

“Yes,” he said, turning to Jin Guangyao. “Forgive me, A-Yao, I entirely forgot you weren’t at the Unclean Realm when this was all being discussed at the start. As it stands now, Da-ge will be taking two brides to share the position of first wife, one of which is my brother.”

Jin Guangyao was blinking very rapidly, clearly attempting to process the information and just as clearly having some difficulty. Possibly at the idea of Nie Mingjue getting married at all, much less in a cutsleeve marriage – in fact, Lan Xichen wasn’t sure he’d ever mentioned to him that Lan Wangji was a cutsleeve.

Did Jin Guangyao maybe have some lingering prejudices? It seemed unlikely, given what Lan Xichen knew of his personality, but such issues were more often seen among the common people…

“I see,” Jin Guangyao said. “And…who’s the other one?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Nie Mingjue said, and he looked so incredibly pleased about it that Lan Xichen reluctantly shelved the idea of scolding him further. A smile from Lan Wangji, a smile from Wei Wuxian, a smile from Nie Mingjue – anything that caused this many smiles was bound to be a good thing.

Even if poor Jin Guangyao’s smile did look a bit strained…

“He’s what?!”

Jin Guangyao held his hands apart as if to indicate he had no idea how it had happened either, and Jin Zixuan thought that for once in his life his duplicative half-brother might be completely and utterly sincere. “He confirmed it himself.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jin Guangshan growled, having apparently decided to skip over shock in favor of paranoid theorizing. “Of course – all this time, Nie Mingjue pretended to disdain the Stygian Tiger seal, looking down on it, but in reality he was seeking his own means of obtaining it –”

Jin Zixuan didn’t think that was especially likely.

He’d fought with Nie Mingjue during the war as one of his lieutenants. Even though his father had insisted that the Jin sect fight under its own banner, it’d quickly become obvious that none of the generals his father had appointed had the slightest idea of what they were doing, unlike Nie Mingjue; to keep his people from enduring another slaughter, Jin Zixuan had forced himself to swallow his pride and ask Nie Mingjue for advice.

The other man had never once lorded it over him, even though Jin Zixuan was in the weaker position – his letters had been straightforward and to the point, answering his questions without any judgment, and when they worked together in person, he was the same.

Jin Zixuan had spent entire nights worrying about his motives, and a shamefully long time to realize that the reason Nie Mingjue was acting the way he did was because he was just – like that. Honest and forthright and disinclined towards scheming, the way everyone said he was; a man who was righteous in the sense that he did what he thought was right, not in the sense of flattering himself to think he was better than others.

(Somewhere along the line, Jin Zixuan had shifted from choking down his pride to choking down guilt at thinking that Nie Mingjue was a better leader than his father – and that he’d probably have been a better father, too, no matter how Nie Huaisang had ultimately turned out. He thought, though he did not know, that if he had not adopted some of Nie Mingjue’s straightforwardness in pursuing Jiang Yanli, she might not be his bride today.)

“ – why didn’t any of us think of that?” Jin Guangshan was demanding when Jin Zixuan tuned back into the conversation, and it made him nearly choke. “A-Xuan! What sounds are you making over there?”

“Nothing, father,” Jin Zixuan said, coughing a little to clear his throat. “Merely – admiring how unorthodox Chifeng-zun’s thinking must have been.”

Jin Guangyao’s lips twitched. It was only a second, there and gone, but Jin Zixuan had still seen the little glimpse of humor. It was truly a pity, he reflected, that his brother wanted his position more than his friendship; they might have been good friends, in another world. Of course, that was the way things went in Lanling, with each person out for themselves, but ever since he’d married Jiang Yanli, he’d started to think that perhaps the greedy, grasping, conniving world his father had cultivated around him wasn’t the right way to lead a sect.

He used to think that the Jin sect was better than everyone else because of the way they thought – that only they were honest enough to acknowledge the frailties in human nature and to make use of them, rather than pretending that people could really be brave and righteous and true, that friendship was a real thing rather than another name for allies of convenience, that love was anything more than a momentary lapse, a weakness – but he didn’t any more. The other righteous sects might be naïve in their belief in righteousness, but believing in righteousness encouraged righteous behavior; even if it was done only as a façade, for most people, the façade would eventually turn into truth after it became enough of a habit.

For most people, anyway.

Jin Zixuan had done his best to like his new brother – upstanding war hero that he was – but he couldn’t quite manage it. He was too familiar with people who came to him with gentle smiles that hid daggers, and his mother, while far too vicious, was unfortunately right that those who shared his parentage all seemed to have their eyes fixed firmly on his position. Jin Guangyao might pretend that he didn’t, but some of the moves he’d made were a little too obviously meant to be consolidations of power: courting the Qin girl, being friendly with certain dissatisfied factions…

Jin Zixuan heard that Jin Guangyao had once been Nie Mingjue’s deputy, wearing a façade of righteousness, and their current enmity had been birthed once the other man had seen what he was really like.

It seemed like a bad trade to him, scrabbling for scraps in Lanling instead of being respected as a man in Qinghe, but he supposed he was in no position to judge. He’d had all the advantages in the world given to him at his birth, and he’d still taken so very long to figure out that righteousness was actually worth something by itself.

His father was still ranting about Wei Wuxian, with his half-brother indulging him with nods and questions that didn’t achieve anything other than making his father feel good about himself for having guessed right, and eventually Jin Zixuan was sick enough of it to feel the need to divert the conversation.

“Whatever his motives may be for marrying Wei Wuxian,” he said, “surely those reasons don’t apply to Hanguang-jun, who possesses no secret power to be obtained. It’s not as though the Nie sect needs a connection to the Lan sect – Chifeng-zun is already sworn brothers with Zewu-jun.”

He paused, deliberately, then added, as if in afterthought, “And A-Yao, of course.”

Jin Guangyao might have mastered the ways of the mistress, sweetness and support and indulgence to win favor, but Jin Zixuan had grown up with a mother that had never allowed an infamously straying husband to bring home a single concubine – if Jin Guangyao thought a few tricks were enough to get his position, he was only dreaming.

Jin Zixuan would help him wake up.

“Do you think it’s that he doesn’t like A-Xian enough to marry just him?” Jiang Yanli asked, biting her lip, but her husband shook his head with a laugh.

“My father couldn’t think of a reason either,” he said, looking arrogant and smug in that charming sort of way he had when he was happy. “The only thing he could come up with after hours and hours was that he might be some sort of pretty flower vase meant as a consolation for having to marry the Yiling Patriarch.”

“But you don’t think that.”

“Of course not. Chifeng-zun is a good man, and even if he wasn’t, he’s old friends with Zewu-jun, who would never allow anything like that.”

Jiang Yanli conceded the point, but that still didn’t explain why. She’d known, of course, of Jiang Cheng’s desperate gamble to protect Wei Wuxian and keep him in the Jiang sect in some manner – technically not, since he’d be under the protection of the Nie sect going forward, but this way at least made sure that he’d always have his family backing. She’d even hoped, based on some things Jiang Cheng had said to her, that Wei Wuxian was happy with the marriage, looking forward to it.

But why would Nie Mingjue take a second wife – no, another first wife – at the same time? Wasn’t that looking down at her brother?

“Personally, my theory is that he just didn’t want to get cuckolded,” Jin Zixuan said, playing with her hair. “So he took precautions against it.”

“Cuckolded?” she asked, and she could feel him turn red – her husband was sensitive about such things, a remnant of his unhappy childhood. He was terrified that she might start to suspect him of crimes he hadn’t yet committed (as if he wasn’t a terrible enough liar that she’d know at once anyway if he’d really done anything), and he usually avoided any discussion of infidelity like the plague. She wasn’t letting him off this time, though, not if Wei Wuxian’s happiness was at stake. “What do you mean? A-Xian wouldn’t betray someone he’d sworn himself to.”

Not without a good reason, anyway. The way Wei Wuxian had been behaving recently towards Jiang Cheng – towards the Jiang sect generally, especially after the business with the Wen sect remnants – could almost make her think terrible things, and only the fact she loved her brother as blindly as she did could make her unswerving in her faith that there was some purpose behind his seemingly cruel behavior.

“Probably not,” Jin Zixuan agreed. “But I mean – come on. I didn’t notice it when I was younger, because I was an idiot back then –”

He said it, not her.

“– but Wei Wuxian chased after Lan Wangji the entire time we were at the Wen indoctrination camp together. Same way I chased after you, actually.”

“With no grace or tact or knowledge of women?” she teased, and he blushed and rubbed his cheek against hers.

“Well, yes,” he said. “But I got you in the end, didn’t I?”

That was a good point.

Jiang Yanli hadn’t seen them interacting enough to really judge – convention separating men from women the way it did – but Wei Wuxian had spoken of Lan Wangji rather a lot after his time studying in the Cloud Recesses. It was certainly a plausible guess.

“So you think Sect Leader Nie married Hanguang-jun for what reason?” she asked. “To keep A-Xian from pursing him?”

“Common wisdom in Lanling says that if it’s not to create connections, then there’s only two reasons for a man to take a concubine,” Jin Zixuan said with a shrug. “One is to keep the man company – the other’s to give company to his wife.”

Jiang Yanli’s eyebrows shot up. “Company for his wife?”

“Why not? Men and women move in different circles – if a man is worried his wife might be thinking of looking for company outside, it’s better to get her someone who will be by her side all the time, isn’t it?”

Jiang Yanli covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “I suppose so,” she said. “Please don’t get me company in the future, though; I’m quite capable of making friends on my own.”

“And I,” her husband said, perking up at once, “of keeping you too busy to even think about other company –”

“You really think it’s all right?” Jiang Cheng asked Jiang Yanli. He trusted his sister’s judgment, but he was still worried. “I don’t want Wei Wuxian to think he has to suffer in silence –”

Jiang Yanli patted his shoulder. “A-Cheng, think about what you’re saying. I’m not saying A-Xian wouldn’t suffer, but – in silence?”

“If he thought it might hurt one of us he would,” Jiang Cheng said stubbornly. “This was my idea, and you know he’s worried about messing up your relationship with Jin Zixuan by starting too much trouble, especially with the Jin sect being the first one to jump down his throat about it. And anyway, he wasn’t chasing after Lan Wangji! He was – he –”

He frowned. He’d always thought that they disliked each other – certainly Lan Wangji’s constantly cold expression didn’t suggest he enjoyed Wei Wuxian’s teasing, although Wei Wuxian did spend an awful lot of time planning out pranks centered around Lan Wangji in specific. Or even, as Jiang Yanli had pointed out, just talking about him.

Which he did. A lot.

“What if Lan Wangji doesn’t like him back?” he asked, suddenly consumed with a brand new worry. “If Chifeng-zun goes to all that trouble for Wei Wuxian, and gets his hopes up, and then it turns out that Lan Wangji really doesn’t like him –”

“I’m sure Sect Leader Nie must have thought it over carefully before he took any action,” Jiang Yanli said. “A-Xuan tells me that he’s a good person, a good leader, and a good general – he must have a plan. Don’t you think?”

“Well, he is all that,” Jiang Cheng admitted. He wouldn’t have been so confident in his plan to marry Wei Wuxian into the Nie sect if Nie Mingjue hadn’t been as righteous as his reputation. But still…

“Why don’t you see what Wei Wuxian thinks about it?” she suggested, quite reasonably. “And anyway, he’ll still need a chaperone for their next visit, and the seasonal floods are over – you could go supervise.”

Jiang Cheng brightened. His older sister always had the best ideas. “What would I do without you?” he asked, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

She laughed. “Starve, probably. Would you like some more soup?”

“Of course! Remind me, why am I letting you go off to Lanling again..?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan xichen #jin guangyao #jin zixuan #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #pasttime in good company #Anonymous

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drwcn · 4 years

Note

Think lan zhan and jiang yanli could be friends like wei ying and wen qing are friends? If they had the chance I could see it. Totally imagining lan zhan being bewildered at first, but than actually seeing why wei ying loves his sister so much. Also totally see them silently judging idiot people together and working together to keep wei ying mentally safe. Yanli teaching him how to cook and things about her brother.

YAS！ LWJ and JYL judging people together is Mood. I will die on this hill.

(and bc i hate sleep, i got inspired by your ask and wrote this brain vomit from my btsf!verse that no one asked for, and yet i shall shamelessly impose on the world. It’s a different take on jiang yanli chewing out jin zixun and lan wangji being there and being generally awesome. )

Jin Zixun is causing a scene.

Again.

In broad daylight in the middle of one of Jinlintai’s gardens no less. The Jins had planted lovely peonies, which are all in bloom now. Jiang Yanli had intended to enjoy them for an hour or two, but it seems her morning plans are about to be ruined. What she initially dismissed as a minor nuisance is quickly becoming an irritating fixture in her life. She has half a mind to be rid of this no good Jin cousin for good, and for that matter, she can count a good number of people who would oblige her.

Standing toe to toe with Jin Zixun, Wei Wuxian is shaking with fury from whatever the other man had said. Not that anything even remotely tasteful has ever been produced by Jin Zixun’s mouth. It’s only productive function is eating, as that seems to be the only time he’s quiet and therefore marginally tolerable.

Jiang Yanli already feels a headache looming just from the reminder of his mere existence.

Lan Wangji is the first to notice her. He has one hand wrapped around Wei Ying’s wrist and another around Bichen’s sheath, pressing it across Jin Zixun’s chest to deter him from taking another step closer. Upon seeing her entourage approaching, he steps back and bows respectfully.

“Sect Master Jiang.”

Like wise, Jin Zixun reluctantly gives a half-hearted bow. She ignores him. For now.

Remembering himself, Wei Wuxian flinches and quickly follows suit. “Zongzhu.” He greets her quietly. [zongzhu = sect master]

He doesn’t call her shi-jie anymore, at least not in public.

Since the day she declared herself Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang, A-Xian has been on his very best behaviour. Every word, every conduct, has strictly been adherent to what is expected of someone in his status and station. But Jiang Yanli could only frown. True, he is her left hand man, her lieutenant, her zuo-hufa, but he is firstly her brother, and she will not stand for him being pushed around by some second rate cultivator just so she could be spared “conflict”.

Turning her head slightly over her shoulder, she makes a small motion for Binghu (冰湖) and Shuangxue (霜雪) to stand down. Dealing with a gnat like Jin Zixun is too menial a task for upstanding cultivators like her personal guards. No, A-Xian is her brother, so Jiang Yanli will deal with this herself, and those who crosses her will only ever be sorry.

“A-Xian, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, zongzhu. A minor disagreement is all.” Clearly lies.

Jiang Yanli looks to Lan Wangji. The younger man does not let go of his betrothed’s wrist, but he does lower his eyes out of deference to her. “Zhangjie, Jin Zixun-gongzi suggested that your brother Jiang-gongzi should be disqualified from tomorrow’s hunt on account of his unorthodox cultivation method. He said that he who could not protect his own golden core has no place amongst cultivators.” [zhangjie = a formal way of saying older sister]

Zhangjie. Rather bold of him to call her that, seeing he and A-Xian are not yet legally wed. But perhaps his choice of words is deliberate, used to remind her that Wei Wuxian is not just her subordinate, but her family. She’d be offended if the gesture isn’t so genuinely endearing. Lan Wangji is a quiet one, but so fiercely protective of Wei Wuxian. Out of this wretched war and all the underhanded maneuvers she’s been forced to take, nothing has pleased her more than this marriage alliance that she and Lan Xichen arranged.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian frowns and admonishes him quietly.

“I spoke the truth.”

Jiang Yanli casts Jin Zixun an aloof side glance, then says, “Perhaps I have confused the rules. Clarify for me, Wangji, is spiritual cultivation required for the hunt tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Does cultivation affect the participant’s performance and ability?”

“No. Not if they follow the rules of conduct.”

“The Hunt is a strictly skills based competition is it not?”

“It is.”

“Well then, I think that settles that. A rather simple mistake, Jin Zixun-gongzi, but I wouldn’t fret too much if you didn’t remember. This has been trying times for us all.”Jiang Yanli’s smile is bright but scorching, like the desert sun.

Colour rises in Jin Zixun’s cheeks. He turns up his nose and huffs, “Has Yunmeng Jiang fallen so low that there’s no one left but deviants, servants, and women?”

Wei Wuxian starts towards him, fully intending to throttle the man, but Jiang Yanli calms him with a gentle hand. Unflustered, she turns her full attention to the Jin cousin. The smile on her face does not dim, but her eyes are glacial.

“Deviants, servants, and women. It’s true. We are that. But what can be done? It is unfortunate that there’s not enough reliable cultivators to count on, that even deviants, servants, and women must be forced to take up arms against a tyrant. How tiresome that we must not only fight our own fights, but you cultivators’ fights too.”

“How dare you -” Jin Zixun bristles, which is about as intimidating as an angry ferret, in Jiang Yanli’s considered opinion.

“Shall I remind you when you led your troops into enemy territory last winter in a bullheaded attempt to boast your ego, whose squadron came to your aid when you were trapped, starving in the snow? Whose food fed your men’s bellies, whose blankets and tents warmed your bodies in that storm?” Jiang Yanli does not raise her tone, but holds nothing back. “And who, after you so pitifully grovelled, omitted your incompetence from the report to your uncle and Sect Master.”

“I -” Jin Zixun darkens from red to purple, unable to come up with a single word of refute. Typical.

Jiang Yanli plows on.

“If we deviants, servants, and women are not befitting polite company and the gentlemanly sport of hunting, then you sir, with so little grace and gratitude for the people who saved your life and the lives of your kinsmen, are not fit to even stand in our presence.” She takes a step closer, forcing him back. “You’re right. I am a woman, but Wei Wuxian was raised along side myself and Jiang Cheng, as close to us as flesh and blood. That you have called him a servant is untrue and a grave offence, which I will not accept. So remembering that, Jin Zixun-gongzi, you will apologize to my brother, Yunmeng Jiang’s zuo-hufa Wei Wuxian. Immediately.”

It is Jin Zixun’s turn to shake, too humiliated and furious to say a thing. It’s clear that he’d rather the ground swallow him than apologize, but as servants and disciples start to crowd around them, whispering and pointing, it seems he has no choice. Jiang Yanli is still a sect master, and Wei Wuxian is a much respected hero.

“Apologies, Wei-gongzi.”

“What’s going on here?” Behind Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, Jin Zixuan and Qin Su can be seen making their way towards them from the other end of the lang. The latter of the two dips in a proper courtesy of a gentlewoman, but the former only manages an awkward cultivator’s bow without meeting Jiang Yanli’s eyes.

“Nothing that needs to worry you, Jin-gongzi. Just a small misunderstanding, all cleared up now. Is that not so, Zixun-gongzi, Wangji, A-Xian?”

“Barely a tiff.” Lan Zhan lies with a straight face. Wei Ying says nothing.

Jin Zixun forces himself to nod once.

Jiang Yanli quickly forgets that such a person ever existed. Stepping up to the two that just joined them, she offers her usual sweet smile. “I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to congratulate you both on your upcoming nuptials. Such wonderful news! Qin-meimei, Madam Jin has asked me to consult on the design of your fengguan, I hope we shall see more of each other so I can make better judgement of your preferences.”

Qin Su blushes. “Jiang-jiejie - eh - Jiang-zongzhu, you tease me! There’s been so much to do lately, we’ve not had time to send out the invites. I - Congratulations to your family too, Hanguang-jun, Wei-gongzi.”

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return her well wishes politely, though somewhat with a stiff back. Jiang Yanli internally frowns, wondering perhaps things aren’t going as well she is led to believe… A matter she needs to think on later.

“Well, I must be off now. I wish I had the endurance of a cultivator, but alas the summer heat is somewhat getting to me. Do enjoy the peonies though, Qin-meimei, Jin-gongzi, they are lovely this year. Wangji, A-Xian, come.”

Jiang Yanli leaves the garden at a leisurely pace, her head held up high, followed by her brothers and her entourage. As she turns at the round archway, she spares a discreet glance towards Jin Guangshan’s son and his future bride, a pairs of unfortunate siblings trying to fit into each other’s lives and unknowingly heading towards a disaster.

She decides to let that one stew a little longer. For now no real damage is done - Jin Zixuan is far to awkward even if Qin Su finds him handsome. The marriage won’t go through; she’s not so cruel that she will actually let that runaway carriage go off the proverbial cliff. However, the key to every offensive strike is timing, and now is not the time to reveal the truth to them. As long as Madam Qin is medically incapacitated, the secret holds, and she will stay that way for a while yet. Jiang Yanli muses that she rather likes the landscape now the way it is, and longs to see the day Jin Guangshan and Qin Cangye gets what’s coming to them.

1. zongzhu = sect master2. zuo-hufa = the “zuo - left” hand man of the sect master. Their function is to serve and protect the sect master, as the word hufa literally means protector. 3. Binghu (冰湖) & Shuangxue (霜雪) - YJL’s bodyguards. Binghu means ice, lake, Shuangxue means frost, snow. 4. zhangjie = a formal way of saying older sister.5. lang = A long, belt-like structure, Lang, the covered corridor is a roofed passage usually with low railings and long side benches. 6. meimei = younger sister. jiejie = older sister. When used in conjunction with last names, this is a way for women who are familiar with each other to address each other. I7. fengguan 凤冠 = it’s the term for the headpiece that brides wear on their wedding day.

#cql #the untamed #jiang yanli #dark!jiang yanli #sect leader jiang yanli #wangxian #btsf #engaged!wangxian #arranged marriage wangxian #i have no idea why the read more is malfunctioning and making this post so long #again #corie replies #corie fics

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razieltwelve · 4 years

Text

The Lesson (RWBY AU Snippet)

“Tell us a story, Old One!” the children cried.

The old woman smiled at the children and eased herself into a chair. “What story would you like to hear?”

“Tell us a story about the gods,” one of the children said.

The old woman’s smile widened. “A story about the gods? Well, there are many such stories.” She paused and then tapped her cane upon the ground. “But which one to choose?” Her eyes gleamed. “Many of you are almost old enough to begin your training… yes, I know exactly the story to tell.”

X X X

Long ago, children, in the days before the Fall when the gods still walked the mortal world, there was a goddess named Pyrrha. Fair was Pyrrha, even amongst the gods, and kindhearted too. But she was no goddess of healing or the hearth. No. She was a goddess of righteous battle, and few were the gods who could withstand her when she took up her sword and shield.

Her sword was named Milo, and it was said to take on many forms. At times it was a sword of fire that struck in all directions. At other times it was a spear that thundered down from the heavens as a bolt of lightning. They say it was forged by the greatest of the gods of smithing, a masterwork that would never be equalled. It was said that no foe could endure it and no shield could turn its blows aside, so long as it was wielded for a just cause.

Her shield was named Akouo, and the legends say that no weapon forged by gods or men could pierce it, for it was wrought of the firmament the gods put around Creation to hold the Abyss at bay. So long as Pyrrha held Akouo, no harm could come to her, and many were the weapons both mortal and divine that broke upon the noble shield.

In those long ago days, Pyrrha would often walk the mortal world. She was also a goddess of heroes, and she sought out those who wished to help others to pass on what skill and wisdom she could. One day, she met a mortal man who wished to be a hero more than anything in the world.

Yet the mortal man was not skilled in feats of arms, nor was he blessed by divine blood or favour. Even so, he did his best, and his determination moved her. Pyrrha revealed herself and offered to teach him, and the mortal man gladly accepted. His had a good heart, and she saw the fine deeds that he might do if only he were stronger.

For several years, Pyrrha trained him, and the mortal man grew mighty under her tutelage. Venturing out once more, he swiftly made a name for himself and became a hero of renown. He saved many lives and slew many monsters, and everywhere he went, he was hailed and feted as a great hero.

Yet the mortal man never forgot his humble origins, nor the aid he had received. Always did he pay homage to Pyrrha, and he did not grow proud or arrogant. And when others came to him, seeking his aid to grow stronger that they might follow in his footsteps, he did as Pyrrha had done.

If they were proud and haughty and wished only for strength to rule others, then he would send them away. But if their hearts were good and they wished to help others, then he would train them as Pyrrha had taught him. In this way did the hero’s fame increase still further.

We know him now as Jaune the Great, but before Pyrrha trained him, he was often called Jaune the Fool. Let it be a reminder, children, never to judge too quickly. A fool today may be a hero tomorrow if opportunity and circumstance permit.

As his fame grew, many women sought out Jaune. Kings offered their daughters to him, and the daughters of wealthy merchants fought for his attention. Yet his heart belonged to only one: the goddess, Pyrrha.

To his joy, the goddess returned his love, and for a time, Pyrrha lingered in the mortal world, living with Jaune as husband and wife. They were blessed with several children, and each was a demigod, gifted with powers far beyond those of mortal men and women. Following in their father’s footsteps, they became heroes, legends that saved countless lives and brought peace and prosperity wherever they went.

And for a time, all was well.

When Jaune eventually passed, as all mortals must, Pyrrha returned to the heavens. In time, one of her descendants married a princess and became a king. Although her blood had thinned, some vestige of her power remained. Even generations later, her descendants possessed strength of arms greatly surpassing that of mere mortals.

The first king of her bloodline was a good king, as was the second and the third. But the fourth was a fool, and the fifth was a madman. Jaune had not been born powerful, so he remembered well the plight of the powerless and those without strength or riches to aid them. He taught his children well, and they taught their children well, but their lessons faded with time.

The kings of Pyrrha’s blood became warmongers and tyrants. They used their great strength and charisma to rally armies that swept over the land, crushing all before them. A kingdom became an empire built upon a foundation of blood and bone, and when Pyrrha looked down upon the mortal world, she could scarcely recognise what had become of her descendants.

Despairing, she sought out Death, for it was said that Death’s eyes saw clearly and allowed no lie or illusion to deceive them.

“Tell me,” Pyrrha begged Death. “Are they truly as evil as they appear? How could Jaune and I have given rise to such tyrants?”

And Death replied, “I will go amongst them in disguise, and I will judge them.”

“And if they are found wanting?”

“They are the children of gods, albeit many generations removed. The mortal world was not made to bend to the will of those of divine blood. I will do what I must.”

And Pyrrha grieved, for she knew what that mean, but she did not seek to stop Death. She had seen for herself the horror her descendants wrought, and her righteous heart could not bear to see such cruelty unchallenged.

So Death went to the seat of power of the empire, a splendid city awash with marble, gold, and silk. She went in the guise of an old crone, and she watched as Pyrrha’s descendants put their enemies to death and slew all who dared question them. At last, she came to the palace of the emperor, and she made her way to the great hall where the emperor feasted with his fellows and celebrated his victories.

He had captives from his newly conquered lands brought before him in chains and cruelly taunted them as his kin laughed and indulged themselves in wine, food, and mayhem. At last, Death had seen enough.

“What is this?” she cried, still in her guise. “Have you forgotten the blood that flows through your veins?”

And the emperor snarled. “You dare speak to me, old crone?”

“The blood of Pyrrha, Goddess of Righteous Battle, flows through your veins. What would she think if she saw you and your kin now?”

The emperor got to his feet, and his eyes were cold. “Strike her down,” he ordered his guards. “This is a feast. I will not have it sullied by an old fool.”

And then Death threw off her guise and appeared before them with the splendour of a god of high standing. They fell back in fear and alarm, and Death spoke with a voice like thunder.

“You have been judged, and you have been found wanting. I am Death, mortal, and I can see into the souls of men. The gods were not meant to lay with mortals, and the strength you wield is not your own but a shadow belonging to that of your bloodline’s mother. I will strike you down, you and all your kin that I find unworthy. If you are noble, then you have nought to fear. But if you are wicked, then you will die where you stand.”

And so it was.

The emperor cried out for mercy, but Death had none to give. He died where he stood, as did all his kin… save a single family.

And Death grieved for Pyrrha, for the two were friends.

“Only one family out of so many?” Death shook her head in disbelief. “How could it come to this?” And so she sought out that family, and she told them what she had done, and she charged the father and mother to remember. “Your blood, thin as it is, carries great power. Never forget that. Remember too how your ancestor, Jaune the Great conducted himself. You can be heroes, or you can be monsters. I would have you be heroes, as would Pyrrha. But if you should forget what happened here… then I will come again to deliver my judgement.”

And the father and mother promised to remember, and they fled the empire with their children, vowing always to serve the people as heroes.

X X X

One of the children pouted. “I don’t like that story, Old One.”

The old woman cackled. “Silly boy! It is no mere story! It is our story!” She looked around, at the children whose hair was either a vibrant red or a radiant gold. “The blood of heroes and tyrants flows through your veins! Never forget it! Death came once for our family, and she may yet come again if we forget the oaths we swore and the lessons that she taught.”

“Truly?” the boy asked.

The old woman’s lips curled and she pointed to the centre of the garden. Two statues stood there, one of Jaune the Great and the other of Pyrrha. Yet not far from them, watchful and stern, was a statue of a tall, cloaked figure. It was Death. “Why do you think we have that statue? It is to help us remember.” She grinned. “We can be heroes, children, or we can be monsters. You are young, but you will soon learn the ways of battle. Be heroes, children. Be heroes.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

This is just something I’ve had rattling around in my head for a while. It has more of a mythological tone to it than many of the more recent snippets involving the gods, but it seemed suitable.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon. If zombies, humour, and action sounds interesting, check out my newest story on Amazon. It’s called Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City. It’s the fourth part of The Unconventional Heroes series, and if you like my sense of humour, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.

#rwby #fanfiction #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #arkos #ruby rose

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milly-plays-litg · 4 years

Note

Hi! For the ask ship meme uwu: 001: mortal kombat, 002: kuaitana and 003: my dear princess kitana. bye :)

Sure, dear anon. Thank you for sending this ask. Someone seems to know me, so, let’s go then.

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: Kitana, hands down. She was my main since MKII, and I kinda related to her.

Least Favorite character: Kronika. She sucks as a boss. She is boring, plain and cheap, Shinnok is ten times a better villain than Kronika will ever be.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Taleena (Tanya x Mileena), Kuaitana (Kuai Liang x Kitana), JadeLao (Jade x Kung Lao), CageBlade (Johnny x Sonya), Bireena (Bi-Han x Sareena).

Character I find most attractive: As for women, MKX!Tanya is hottest girl I have ever seen in Mortal Kombat. As for men, MK11!Kuai Liang is the most attractive man ever.

Character I would marry: Johnny Cage. He may be a jerk sometimes but I see why Sonya married him and I can’t blame her.

Character I would be best friends with: Kung Lao. It would be a real fun to have a wit battles with.

a random thought: I don’t care what everyone says, but alongside with Nintendo, Pokemon and the WWF (back in the day during the end of the nineties), Mortal Kombat was my childhood. Later I liked other fighting franchises as Street Fighter or Killer Instinct, but never with the same intensity which I loved Mortal Kombat. Maybe is for that reason that certain retcons saddens me.

An unpopular opinion: I don’t know how much of umpopular opinion is this, but I don’t find that the guest characters are a good idea, even if I understand the financial gain behind it. I look at both Joker and Terminator slots and kinda saddens me the fact that Havik, Mileena or Reptile could have been in MK11 roster instead of them.

My Canon OTP: Taleena. Even if it’s safe to assume that is nothing but a fling and that there is more sexual attraction than real feelings between them, I will forever ship Mileena and Tanya in a romantically way.

My Non-canon OTP: Kuaitana. No, I don’t ship Kitana with Kuai because they wear blue and are assassins. I ship them because they have a lot in common:

Both were literally raised to be assassins and became honorable warriors for good causes, like saving Earthrealm and aiding to defeat Shao Kahn.

In their transitions, both rebelled for freedom. In the old timeline, Kuai rebelled hinself from the Lin Kuei, so they wouldn’t turn him to a robot like Smoke. Kitana rebelled herself from Shao Kahn after she discovered her real origins and Kahn’s deception regarding Mileena’s existence.

It was literally confirmed that for being a Cryomancer, Kuai has edenian ancestry even if he was born and raised in Earthrealm.

Both have to deal with a brother/sister who went or is still nuts (Noob and Mileena).

Most Badass Character: Kitana, Kitana and Kitana. ¿Who dares to ditch Shao Kahn and lives to tell it?. None than the Princess of Edenia.

Most Epic Villain: The most obvious answer in terms of popularity would be Shao Kahn. But in my eyes, my choice is Shang Tsung. While Onaga and Shao Kahn are kind of brutes, Shang has the same means that also made other characters like Palpatine or Voldemort to be formidable villains: a scheming brain and cold blood.

Pairing I am not a fan of:

Kotal x Jade. I despise it, because Kotal is a total piece of shit in my eyes and I headcanon him as possessive, jealous and liar type of man (one of his intros with D’Vorah kinda hints the last when she implies that she bedded him). Jade can do waaaaaaay better than him. She does not deserve a supremacist git whose idea of a “uNiTeD oUtWoRlD” means the slavery of Edenia.

Liu x Kitana: is not that I don’t like them, but I was never fond of them together. Is the same feeling I also get from Baraka x Mileena.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Sindel and Mileena. The first was supposed to be a caring mother who tries to deal with her dark past as Kahn’s consort and not the golddigger that NRS gave us. The second was supposed to be Kitana’s evil twin who grew up with her and later hated her by irrational motives, thanks to NRS now, Mileena is a childlike experiment from Shang Tsung’s laboratory Flesh Pits.

Favourite Friendship: Kitana/Jade, Liu/Kung and Smoke/Kuai. Personally, I like when positive and healthy friendships are portrayed in media and despite of being known by being gory and violent, Mortal Kombat has plenty of healthy friendships.

Character I most identify with: Jade.

Character I wish I could be: Kitana.

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them: Long ago, when I discovered that I didn’t liked Liutana at all. I respect all ships, but Liutana is not my thing so I started to ship Kuai and Kitana since the days of MK9, later I found fanfictions/fanarts of them together which fueled my ship.

My thoughts: I love them and canon or not, I will ship them forever. As I explained earlier, they have a lot in common and I don’t ship them just because they wear blue.

What makes me happy about them: The fact they have a lot of things in common so I can ship them freely.

What makes me sad about them: Nothing at all.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: When Kitana is depicted as a Mary Sue or a lady-in-distress. If there’s a thing that I love from her, is the fact that she has a lot of shortcomings and is not a perfect human being.

Things I look for in fanfic: A lot of fluffy. This may be cheesy, but I love Kuaitana fluffy fics. Neither am bothered by NSFW (or lemons if you want) fics as long as they are well written.

My wishlist: Not going to lie, but I don’t have one at all.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: While I know that my ship is not canon, I’m not totally repulsed to Liutana, Liu is a cool guy who cares about Kitana after all. Just merely not my cup of tea. And if Kuai ends with Hanzo in canon, I will be okay.

My happily ever after for them: With Kitana ruling a free Edenia as Queen alongside Kuai as a Prince Consort while he reconnects with his edenian roots.

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character: About Kitana, she is not only my main since MKII and my favorite character of this fandom, she was the first female hero that I truly liked. Words cannot describe how much I love her. Her story is one of the most epic in the Mortal Kombat universe. After she discovers Kahn’s betrayal she stands up against him by doing what she thinks is the correct thing to do.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: I have shipped her with Jade at some point in the past and Kuai Liang. But Kuaitana will be always my very first ship regarding Kitana.

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Her friendship with Jade. I love when positive female friendships are depicted in media. My favorite moment of them will be when Jade in MK9 literally defects from Shao Kahn after she witnesses Kitana being arrested after she discovers Mileena’s existence and the deception related from Kahn’s part.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Even if I like the idea of Kitana defeating Shao Kahn (after the hell she endured for his cause, he had it coming. He deserved to be humlliated by Kitana), I’m not fond of the idea of NRS of ditching her Edenian identity and making her Kahnum of Outworld. I will be forever positive to the idea of a free Edenia from Outworld ruled firstly by Sindel and later by Kitana after she inherits the throne from Sindel at some point.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: That her edenian identity were acknowledged by freeing Edenia when she killed Shao Kahn during MK11, and helping Sindel to rule her realm as a warrior princess with Jade or Ermac’s aid.

Favorite friendship for this character: Like I said before, Jade will be always Kitana’s best friend.

My crossover ship: I don’t have an oficial crossover ship for Kitana. But for some weird reason, I’m kind of open to ship her with Cammy or Rose from Street Fighter.

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g00dberry · 4 years

Note

this is me asking about your campaign

Anon, I am so fucking glad that you asked. Alight kiddies strap yourselves in and get ready to hear the story of Fortune’s Favor cause this is the hyper-fixation to end all hyper-fixations for me right now. (BTW, all art for the party members was done by @Tallinier on Twitter! She’s amazing and you all should go check her out right now!). Anyways:

See that? That’s Ar’De. The main continent that our D&D campaign takes place on. You might have noticed that huge white sprawl right in the middle there. That’s called The Conflict Zone. That also happens to be the name of our campaign itself, The Conflict Zone.

The Conflict Zone is an area of the continent that has existed since the dawn of recorded history. It has always contained things that do not make sense and is home to creatures not of the material plane. The topography of it is constantly shifting, changing, re-arranging. It is impossible to map out. Portals to thousands of other realms are constantly opening and closing within its borders, and creatures from these other realms have recently begun to take notice of these portals in larger numbers. The Orcs, Humans, Elves, and Dwarves have all made a pact to do their best to contain this threat on their shared borders, but something is happening... While the shared governments are trying to keep it under wraps, The Conflict Zone is expanding. More and more things are coming through those portals, and those who live closest to it have been facing grave dangers and strange occurrences more and more lately.

However, our story doesn’t begin with The Conflict Zone. It actually begins with a man. A man known only as Gaust. 20 years before the events of this campaign, a powerful man known as Gaust led a violent uprising centered in the human country of Empiria that killed many people. Gaust himself supposedly had powers that were evil and astounding. On top of his own abilities, he had the power to give other people arcane abilities. It was said that his mere presence was enough to make those around him just as bad as he was. However, nobody really knows for sure, as nobody ever claimed to have truly met the man in person. That is, until the current king of Empiria, Ryborn Hauzer -

(That guy) - slayed Gaust himself, and put an end to his 5 year reign of terror. Things were pretty okay for 20 years after that, and that’s where our heroes meet each other.

Why don’t we get to know our heroes? They’ve recently started to garner a reputation for themselves, and have decided to call their little group Fortune’s Favor (It’s a miracle none of us are dead yet, so we’ve gotta be somewhat lucky, right? Right?). They weren’t always a recognizable group of heroes though. In fact, they started out sleeping in the haymow of some guy’s barn, just outside the human capital of Union. With only a few coins to their name and a shared goal of joining the legendary Pathfinder’s Guild for various reasons, they decided to team up to try and earn some coin together, attempting to get past the nasty 500 GP application fee to even try out for the Pathfinders.

But enough about that, why don’t we finally talk about these lovable losers?

First up is Sarrali Farseer, a Tiefling Hunter Ranger 5 / Wild Magic Sorcerer 2:

Sarrali found herself designated as the leader of the group rather quickly which was really concerning for her (especially considering that she’s the youngest at the ripe age of 21!). She’s never seen herself as much of a people person. She grew up on the rugged streets of Vandis, Empiria’s military capital in the harsh North. With her human mother in mental institutions, her father completely unknown, and a childhood full of horribly unfortunate mishaps and distrust from others due to her Tiefling blood, Sarrali grew used to the idea that her father might actually have somehow been the god of shadow, twilight, misfortune, and chaos - Vayn. After deciding to ditch civilization entirely at the ripe age of 16 with only a pewter charm of a bird in flight left by her mother to her name, Sarrali fled South to the Northern forests of Empiria with no idea how to survive on her own. She was found and taken in by an old human bounty hunter, Mordecai Swift, who taught her everything he could before he met his untimely demise at the hands of some slaver pirates when Sarrali was 18. Out for vengeance, Sarrali made the unwise decision to try and take on an entire camp of slavers on her own after finding her master’s decapitated head not too far outside the camp. She managed to take down 7 of them all on her own before she was captured. She spent a horrific month in a Port Des’Sali warehouse run by the cruel leader of the slaver pirates, a wretched dragonborn named Bodac the Blue. Sarrali survived many horrible things, including torture and receiving a mysterious brand on her right shoulder blade before she and all of the other slaves were freed when a mysterious man entered the warehouse one day, the right half of his body glowing with red flames. He proceeded to torch the place, ripping Bodac’s head clear off his body, and burning right through the cages holding the slaves. Sarrali ran away from the others and spent the next 3 years working for a morally decent smuggling ring in Port Des’Sali, recovering and steeling herself for the future. She had heard that some people believed the gods themselves might reside within The Conflict Zone, and she finally wanted to confront Vayn. Unfortunately for her, the only ones allowed within The Conflict Zone were high ranking Pathfinder guild members and other decorated soldiers. So, she had no choice but to arm herself with her master’s hunting knife, her trusty bow, and head out to Union to achieve her goals. 6 months down the line and things are going arguably well for Sarrali. She’s got people who care about whether she gets out alive at the end of the day, she’s started learning some ritual magic (including how to cast Find Familiar). She returned to her supposed birthplace, a mountain town named Overlook, in search of her mother and discovered that she has an older sister, a tiefling named Brandia.

She also discovered that she was apparently human when she was born, as was her older sister. She learned that her father apparently wasn’t Vayn, but instead a human man known as Jaxon Farseer. Someone who’s family line is millenia old. Full of heroes, legendary dragon riders, and masterful archers. Her father disappeared shortly after her birth, and her mother apparently made a deal with a tall dark man who appeared in her dreams, allowing him to give her and her children his “blessing” to ensure that Jaxon would one day be rescued. Her mother accepted, and was immediately cast into madness as her daughters were changed in ways she couldn’t imagine. Odd, Sarrali’s been seeing a tall dark man in her dreams as well recently. In fact, he keeps telling her she’ll be the one to end the world someday, and he gifted her the use of Wild Magic... Hm.

Next up is Teael of house Arren, a Half-Elf Grassland Druid 5 / Hexblade Warlock 2:

Teael is the bastard daughter of Chancellor Arren, a noble High Elf who lives down river from the Spring of Len. Teael Is an incredibly caring person, though her childhood was very lonely. Her step mother was kind, teaching her druidic magic like any of her other children, but her step sister was cruel to her and her father was rather indifferent, refusing to tell Teael anything about her birth mother. Tired of spending her life being ignored and mistreated in what was essentially a gilded cage, Teael fled her father’s estate and headed North with something to prove. Through fate or misfortune, she ended up at the same barn as Sarrali and decided to stick close to the rugged tiefling girl who seemed to know her way around a weapon a little better than she herself did.

6 months later and 24 year old Teael has sort of adopted Sarali as the little sister she never had. The two get along well and care for each other in ways they haven’t really had the chance to experience before. Teael finally has someone who will stand up for her, and Sarrali has someone who cares about how she’s really doing. Someone who wants to help her through the trauma she’s endured. Someone who cares. One of Teael’s main points of interest is that she somehow possesses the ability to summon 2 familiars at once. A grumpy large blue gecko named Nigel and a posh white Weasel named Eloise. On a rather.... improvised trip to the Shadowfell, Teael recovered the mangled body of a Drow servant who called her Lady Velodora (which also happens to be the name of the Goddess of Darkness, Death, Sleep, and the Moon... She’s also one of Vayn’s twin sisters!). After escaping the Shadowfell, Teael paid a good amount of money to have her new friend attended to by a revolutionary doctor and a high level cleric. The Drow has made a decent recovery, but is suffering from horrible amnesia. So, Teael gave him the name Vega.

He later proved himself to be a rather accomplished wizard. He lives on a plot of land owned by Teael now, and he restored a broken down wizard tower there. His favorite pastimes include listening to Teael sing for him, reading, and studying new arcane affects. He isn’t the only friend Teael’s made recently though. On a mission into Orc territory, Teael recovered a strange black rod. After a dream that the party still doesn’t really know all the details of, Teael’s got a wicked looking new quarterstaff, and seems to have made some sort of deal with a woman (entity?) named Ebony. Before we set off on our latest adventure, Teael wrote to her father for the first time since leaving his estate to boast about how fine she’s doing on her own, and is eagerly waiting to hear back from him. She’s also a complete bi-sexual disaster, but the party loves her anyways. Oh, and one last thing. She also learned that if people found out who her mother was, she’d supposedly be killed on the spot. So that’s fun!

Third up is Rhak, a Dragonborn Bear-Totem Barbarian 5 / Champion Fighter 2:

Teael and Sarrali met up with Rhak once they were already knee deep in a mission back in Union. They needed some extra muscle, and just happened to see a very stocky dragonborn writing something down in a book and petting a small kitten on their way into the sewers. His common wasn’t that good, but he seemed so happy that someone had offered him work without being mean that he decided to protect his new friends on the spot. He’s been with the group ever since. Rhak was the runt of his litter back in the Dragonborn territory of The Free Isles. Though he still exemplified the traits that the Platinum Dragon, Bahamut, tried to preach. Rhak had never really been one to turn to violence. He preferred to read and try talking through his issues with others. Unfortunately for him that meant that he was bullied mercilessly as a child. Though the kindness of a half elf woman named Lucia, a sorceress in the Free Isles seeking the wisdoms of the Platinum Dragon, inspired him to stick to his own ideals. One day, when he saw some bullies picking on a much younger runt, he accidentally let his anger get the better of him and ended up killing one of the bullies. Thus, he was exiled from his homeland at the age of 15. Forced to wander parts of the world that he was tragically unfamiliar with, places where he was seen as an oddity, and forced to live a cripplingly lonely life. Lucky for both him and us, we found each other though, and he’s finally got true friends that care deeply for him.

Though he had to leave his lovely kitten friend Steve at an orphanage in Union before we set out on a larger adventure, Rhak is going strong today. He has a bear spirit named Ursula that gives him the strength to protect his friends and keep pushing forward. After an untimely demise in the stomach of a Rhemorahz, Rahk was saved by a very close Revivify and brought back. Though, not before he got to have a nice chat with Bahamut himself. Bahamut explained to Rhak that he was Silver Prime, and that he needed to help usher in the era of The New King if the world was to be saved from calamity. We were already carrying a dragon egg with us (taken from a bunch of kobolds months ago in some old mine). But after breaking open an artifact from the Shadowfell, the egg was transformed. After reaching Sarrali’s hometown of Overlook, we learned that it was home to The Roost. The former breeding ground of Empiria’s human-allied dragons. However, The Roost had been destroyed years ago in Gaust’s uprising, and the only dragon left there now was a Silver Dragon named Orphyrah. She gave Rhak her blessing, explaining that she needed to sacrifice herself if he was supposed to reach his true potential as silver prime. She breathed all of her life essence into a single scale necklace, which Rhak now wears and can use to call upon her spirit in times of need. While at The Roost, we were able to hatch the new king of the dragons, a platinum hatchling named Justifax. Rhak has been tasked with protecting him and uniting the other primes, and he seems to be taking that duty very seriously. Only time will tell how Rhak’s destiny affects the fate of the world...

Last but certainly not least, we have Theren Greybend. A Human Knowledge Cleric 7:

Theren is the newest member of our group. We quite literally ran into him while fighting for our lives in the North recently, while on our way to Sarrali’s birthplace. Theren is a cleric of Magus, the God of Magic, Knowledge, and Secrets. The rest of the party doesn’t know too much about him yet, but we were in desperate need of a healer, and he got to witness the hatching of a new Dragon king with us, so he’s kind of stuck with us at the moment. Theren is a huge book nerd. He craves learning about any and all strange anomalies, and agreed to travel with the party on the pretense that we seem to run into stuff involving The Conflict Zone (his research specialty) a lot. We’ve basically become his latest research project, but that’s alright. He seems nice enough, and wants to help in any way that he can. Theren recently revealed that he possesses the odd ability to connect telepathically with a willing creature once a day, but who knows what else this guy can do? As far as we can tell, Theren is from one of the Western parts of Empiria, rather close to The Conflict Zone itself.

Now finally, you might be wondering: Alright, but how did all that crazy stuff start?

Well, the intro arc was far too long to append on to this post, but let’s just say that in an unfortunate mix up involving Dynamite, Sewer Zombies, and a Burning Lighthouse. Our rag tag group was pinned as prime suspects, and then later were offered a deal by this shady motherfucker -

Ekkard, the right hand man to the King of Empiria. If we could investigate those three issues for him on the down low, he wouldn’t just waive our Pathfinder application fee, he would ensure that we were accepted, and would become one of the King’s personally invested in teams. Of course, he didn’t give us much of a choice, since he told us we had a month to figure it out or face exile from Union as a cautionary action.

So, on the job to clear our names and earn our stripes, we faced down more zombies, a flesh golem, an assassin, terrorist threats, bandits, exploding zombies, a re-kindled uprising of Gaust, and finally a huge bone serpent to save the city of Union and earn our freedom.

Long story short - we succeed, and thus, Fortune’s Favor was born.

-I’m always down to talk about this campaign, so if anyone has any other questions, please don’t hesitate to send them.

@icarus-undying (Teael’s Player)

#dnd #d&d #DnD 5e #dungeons & dragons #Dungeons and Dragons

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starcunning · 5 years

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24. Unctuous

A look all veiled in blue

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast’s FFXIVWrite 2019. [Title] [AO3 mirror]

She could at least walk to the tea room under her own power. That was a mercy, though Odette still favored the ankle she had twisted some few days before. Still, she dared not wear white as she was accustomed to, dressed instead in a wine-red gown that might not show so obviously if her wounds reopened. As was their wont.

Perhaps instead it was her wont to reopen them.

The servant who announced her was too obsequious for her liking—but then everyone in the house was either unctuous or callous, sometimes by turns. Maman’s influence, she did not doubt. Besides, there was no need to bow and scrape; Odette knew who her caller was. She had only had the one visitor throughout all of her convalescence. Guillaume had written, and a few had sent flowers, but none of them came in person, though she had briefly allowed herself to entertain such hopes about Rielle.

Aymeric de Borel stood, hands clasped gently behind his back, always attentive but somehow more alive when he looked upon her. “Odette,” he said, with such warmth that it could have melted the frost from windowpanes even in Halone’s own moon. “Lord Speaker,” she greeted him in turn, and if he was stung by her formality he did not show it.

Instead he merely crossed to pull out her chair, offering a hand she refused to take as she settled into it. Odette dismissed the servant with a wave. Winter sunlight streamed in through the windows, glittering on his earring and the pin in his cravat. For a moment she was abashed; the fullness of her splendor was too much to endure getting on with while she was yet recovering, but he had seen her with sweat upon her brow and poppy’s milk in her veins. The thought was less comfort than she hoped, reflecting on it.

“I am pleased to see your recovery progressing,” he said. “Not as swiftly as I’d hoped,” she admitted. “Nor the rest of the world, I imagine.” His smile was pained, and for a moment Odette thought he would ask her to come and stay with him again. She had considered the offer—not the first time he made it, but the second or third, when she remembered what troubled her in this house. She even had the sense that in some fevered state she had said yes, but perhaps that was only a dream. If she had, he had waited for her to acknowledge it first, and it bore no mention for her. He spoke not, in the end. Instead his fingers brushed a small box on the table, wrapped in glossy blue paper.

The maid came then with the tea service, and laid saucer, cup, and spoon before them. Aymeric smiled gently at her. “I’ll pour,” he said. “Thank you.” “Of course,” she said, her tone syrupy. She curtsied to him, and then to Odette. “My lady.” Then she withdrew, never turning away, and Odette found herself annoyed all over again. “Why do they do that?” she wondered. Aymeric chuckled a little to himself, and it was only then she realized the thought had escaped her lips. He took the teapot in his hands, and tipped it to pour a measure into her cup. As he poured for himself, he said, “You are a hero a hundred times over, and nearly gave your life in the defense of Ishgard and her allies. Why would they not?” “It’s not as though they’re sincere,” Odette noted with dismay, stirring a lump of sugar into her tea. “Why wouldn’t they be?” he asked, drizzling birch syrup into his cup. Odette rolled her eyes. “Maman is not happy,” she said. “She’s concerned about the scar, of course.” “So she would rather a picturesque daughter than a valiant one?” She could not help but laugh at that. “Always. Don’t you recall how unhappy she was when I chose to pursue service with the Temple Knights?” “I had hoped that might have changed, given everything else that has.” Aymeric frowned. “Estellise de Dzemael does not change,” Odette said; “she merely waits for the world to conform to her expectations.”

She could feel his concern, and the resignation that challenged it, though it would not yield. That was her gift, and her curse; she wanted to flee the room rather than abide one moment more in his pity. But she swallowed the impulse with her next sip of tea, and with it went her own reactions. It was unseemly for her to be afraid. She could not be angry instead, nor cold—it would never be winter in her heart for him, whatsoever she might wish—and so she elected instead to be greedy.

“But what’s this you’ve brought me?” she prompted, gesturing to the package beside his hand. “Ah,” he said. “A gift.” He offered it up to her, and she set her cup and saucer aside a moment to set it before her. She picked open the white ribbons and carefully unfolded the blue paper, laying it aside—whole but creased—to look upon his gift.

In one small box she found a lacquered wooden pen and a half-dozen replacement nibs; another held a triad of small bottles of ink and a block of sealing wax. The last wooden box was large enough to hold letters, and it nearly did—envelopes and stationary folded to nest neatly. Letters in waiting. Atop them was a small silver charm. It looked like an envelope, and would fit neatly on her chatelaine. She opened it to find stamps, printed with etchings of flora from the Churning Mists. She laid them out in front of her. There she espied the Seventh Heaven blossom, and there a kupo nut, and a cloud mallow. Iceheart’s Tears, too, and for a moment Odette longed to stand once more in the shadow of Zenith. Anywhere but here.

“What is this?” she asked, looking from it to him, then back down again as she folded the stamps back up into their accordion and tucked them away in the envelope charm once more. “It seems to me,” Aymeric said, “that your convalescence is drawing toward its end and you will soon resume your adventures. When I consulted your sister on the matter, she told me that you possessed no implements to write letters on your journeys, and it was my hope that in providing that which is needful, you might be encouraged to send word now and then.” Her sister. Of course. Her younger twin had said this to him. It was not a shortage of paper that had stayed her hand; she kept a logbook, after all. But it seemed far too cruel to tell him outright that she did not write because she simply did not wish to. Not when he had made his yearnings plain with this gift. Odette considered what she might say in reply, taking up her tea to sip it. She looked across the table and found Aymeric’s blue eyes intent upon her own. She came to no conclusion even as she stretched out her arm once more, teacup delicately in hand.

She dropped it. The sound of porcelain shattering echoed in the room. She never looked away from Aymeric’s face.

Footsteps out the door presaged someone’s coming, and only then did she remember to dread her mother’s displeasure. Surely she would not be happy to find the family china in shards, and Odette knew a pang of fearful regret.

Aymeric reached across the table, setting his cup on her vacant saucer, and knelt beside the table. He was there when the maid came in, looking concerned. “What happened?” she asked. “Is everything alright?” “Merely an accident,” Aymeric said, in that even way of his. “Please forgive my clumsiness.”

They knelt there on the floor, picking white shards from grey stone, and Odette looked on dispassionately. Aymeric glanced at her once or twice, but she gave him nothing. She had nothing to give. He had secured her escape from consequences with his lie, perhaps, and yet something still ached in her heart. She dared say nothing, lest she confess her crimes.

Soon the mess was gone, and the maid too, and the rest of the tea service. They sat there at an empty table, his wishes laid out between them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. It was barely a question, a gentle entreaty to unburden herself. “What could have possessed you to do that?” She had an answer, but could not give it—certainly not while she looked into his eyes. “What would you do,” she wondered, “if you returned to Saint Finnea’s cloisters and set all the swans free, but one swan insisted upon remaining? She would eat of your table, should you offer, and shelter beneath the eaves there, and swim in the lake, but she would always peck at you every time you came near?” She stacked the wooden boxes in front of her, looking down at her hands as she worked. “She doesn’t know why, and you have done nothing wrong, but whenever you see her, she pecks you. Wouldn’t you give up, eventually?”

Aymeric said nothing for a long time. Then he said, “Well—does she love me?” “Her love for you is an agony.” His brow knit; his face crumpled. “Why should love ever be agony?” It seemed a naive question coming from him—had he never suffered for love of her? “Do you love me still?” “Yes,” he said at once. She shook her head. “It is torment enough that you love me, and torment twice over that I love you. I wish I did not; these feelings are unwelcome to me. But it is not because you are not a good man—rather you are the best of all men, and should be free to choose someone better suited to your happiness.” He looked upon her then with perplexity, though beneath it she could feel his joy. “You have not spoken of this before,” he said. “What moves you to speak now?” “I have been reminded much of late of my own deficiencies,” she said. “In what way?”

Odette considered a long moment. When she spoke, it was bluntly: “Fray and I chanced to meet again. And Gaius van Baelsar is in love with my twin sister.” Aymeric pressed his lips into a thin line. “I knew that the Black Wolf lived, having been briefed on the subject, but I remain uncertain what connects these two matters.” “It was not a happy reunion,” Odette said. “Neither of them were happy reunions. Knowing me seems to have done Fray Myste more harm than good, and I cannot see how it would be otherwise for you. And the legatus of the XIVth—though he claims to have shed that mantle; as soon part a wolf from his pelt, I think; it would go more easily.” She cleared her throat. “Van Baelsar is in love with my twin sister. We shared him once, more than gladly. Did you know this? Did I ever deign to tell you? Well, see me now for what I am.” She shook her head. Aymeric seemed on the verge of speech, but she could brook no forebearance lest she lose her nerve. So she continued, “I no longer feel comfortable with that. When last he was made to endure my affections, it felt like an intrusion where I am no longer invited. It is, though I wish it not, an affront to me. But in truth it is only the most natural consequence. Colette is a far more comforting person than I. So far as I know she has left no wounds in her wake like the ones I dealt Fray Myste, who loved me once and no longer.

“But on due reflection,” Odette continued, “what would I do, really, if he were in love with me? If either of them were in love with me? Would it be welcome to me in the least? I was forced to admit that it would not, and my envy of the love they bore others was simplest foolishness. After all, was I not tormented enough by the knowledge of the love you bore me—that you bear for me still? Why should I compound that unhappiness, or wish it upon any other person?” She turned her gaze from his face; from those blue eyes and his moue of concern. Outside the window she watched the sleet drive from the heavens into the city, and longed to feel its sting against her skin. “It gave me no great joy to consider it, and I decided that my feelings, unwholesome and unwelcome as they are, should be conveyed to you nevertheless.”

His hand brushed hers; covered it. She stared out the window. “Of course,” he said. “That all sounds very much like nothing.” “Oh, do not comfort me now!” Her gaze snapped back toward him. “This is nothing; you have agreed, and it is beneath you to debase yourself by taking my hand!” Aymeric winced, and lowered his eyes. He lifted his hand and instantly she missed its weight and warmth. “’Twas a poorly considered jest,” he said, but did not reach for her again. “I do not think it is nothing, for nothing you feel is insignificant to me. Least of all this. If my attentions are a torment to you, I will at your word withdraw and never mention my feelings again.” His throat bobbed, as though he too sought to swallow his sorrows as she had done so often. Aymeric looked upon her face once more, and said, “It has been my greatest hope that I might one day prove worthy of your love, but if that love does you harm, then I cannot wish for it. Your happiness and comfort are much more dear to me.”

Odette looked down at their hands, ilms and an entire world apart. “The swan will not leave the monastery of her own will,” she said. “It falls to you to turn her out.” Aymeric said, “If your affections are elsewhere laid, of course I shall not interfere. My greatest wish for you then would be that you might be recognized for the extraordinary woman you are.” “I don’t love him!” Odette said, balling her hand into a fist. “I have never loved Gaius van Baelsar, and I am not certain I ever loved Fray Myste! Gaius is in love with my sister—and there is no part of me that wishes for his love, even were I worthy of it.” Aymeric began, “I see—” “She is a better match for him,” Odette said. “And Sidurgu a better match for Fray, and Lucia a better match for you. Even Estinien—I sought so tirelessly to save Estinien not simply for my sister’s sake but for yours. Meager though his comforts are, they would certainly serve you better than mine.” “Lucia is a fine woman,” Aymeric said. “And Estinien is a dear friend. Still, I do not love them as I love you.” Odette let her hand fall to the table, disarmed of her anger. Of every shield she could conjure to mask her true feelings. What was left? Sorrow, and longing, and uncertainty—none of them becoming on a lady. “Why not?” she said. Her voice was plaintive. “It has been two years since we said goodbye, and since I revealed to you the unworthiness of my heart. Of my behavior. Why not lay your affections elsewhere? I had thought perhaps you would … stop, someday. I still think you will.” He looked upon her with naked wonder, innocent as a child’s, and as all-enduring. “What could ever persuade me to stop?”

“Your peers will not be kind to you,” Odette said. It was the first of the old arguments. “I know my own reputation.” “You are a hero of the realm, and people love you more than you can know.” Aymeric lowered his gaze to their hands once more. “And those that do not make no difference to me. I was a bastard adopted by a dowager, and now I am as much a patricide as a hero. But shame has never come to live under my roof.” It seemed inconceivable to her, an alien world to her own. What came next? “I would not make a good wife to you.” “We need not marry,” he said, “if that is not your wish. I would gladly forego that honor for the greater one of having you by my side.” That was what he always said, but as with the last answer he had more to add that was new to her: “What makes a good wife?” She looked at him, frowning as she considered the question. “Composure,” she said; a lady could never be allowed to be as angry nor as sad as she had proven herself before him. “And deference, and all those qualities I lack.” He smiled a little, though the expression was rueful. “Composure you have,” he told her. “You have shown it in far greater trials than Ishgardian society can conceive of, much less offer. And I do not want your deference anyway; I never have. What I have admired all my life in you is how unafraid you are to speak for your convictions. To knock me back when I am being foolish.” “You are never foolish,” Odette said. “I am more a fool than you imagine,” he said. “But I want you for an equal.” “Even if we were to wed, I am far too old and much too busy to give you children,” Odette told him, the last of all her arguments—and the one she never won. He laughed. The sound was gentle, warm, as though it was a comfort to him to return at last to the end of this road. “Should you want them, we can adopt. How could I ever object to such a thing?”

He looked at her then, and turned his hand over to offer it up to her. “Do you know why the swan always wants to peck me?” It was such a sudden change of topics that it took her a moment to recall her own earlier metaphor. “No,” she said. “It is because she’s afraid,” Aymeric said. “And there is much to fear, especially in a life as perilous as yours. But I want you to feel—and to know—that you are safe with me.” She looked at that gentle hand, waiting for her to take it. “Why?” she asked. “Why not put the swan out of the monastery? If you would but chase her away, she would never trouble you with her presence again.” He shook his head, the motion just barely visible in the periphery of her vision. “I faced once the reality of a world bereft of you,” he said. “I would never choose it.” There was so much being offered to her with that waiting hand. It seemed impossible, thinking on it. And yet … as much as it would betray her innermost feelings—a cardinal sin, her mother had taught her at a young age—didn’t she want to take it?

Odette laid her hand across his palm. “I can’t stay in Ishgard all the time,” she said. “I can’t put this life before my duties.” “I know. And I would never ask,” Aymeric said. “But if you can spare a moment, you are always welcome.” He folded his fingers over hers, and sat there, hand-in-hand with her.

#ff14 #FFXIVWrite2019 #odette #wol/aymeric #temple nights #i do love them #since i declared that this year was 'let your ocs find happiness 2k19' i'm being told i should comply #sometimes growth is painful odette #original content #starcunning writes

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snowbellewells · 5 years

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Self Promo Sunday: “Scaling the Walls”

Originally, I started this one before the season four finale actually aired, though the idea and set-up were based on the promos, and I didn’t finish it until that episode had shown. Still, this is more my own idea of how the “Emma being trapped in a tower and needing a rescue” plot could have played out. I revisited it the other day and thought that someone else might also enjoy it on Self-Promo Sunday!

"Scaling the Walls”

By: @snowbellewells

Wave upon wave of pain racks her body, radiating through unendingly, nearly rocking Emma Swan off her feet. The only thing keeping her from falling to the floor in an unconscious heap are the chains binding her hand and foot to the stone wall of her tower prison. Her eyes slam shut, and she tries fruitlessly to press her hands to her brow, only to have the motion arrested halfway through by the shortness of her bonds. It feels as if her head may split in two if she cannot exert some pressure to keep her senses together, but all her efforts are for naught. She is trapped and will remain so, no end to her agony in sight.

A strangled scream rises from her throat, pouring past her lips out the window into the trackless woods surrounding her cell and reverberating off its walls. She feels her heart wrenching and shattering as this psychotically unrecognizable version of Snow White plunges her hand once more into Emma's chest and grasps, squeezing and trying to pull out her own daughter's heart. The fact that this is her mother, made bloodthirsty and malicious by some wretched curse, only makes the torture worse, as the face whose kindness Emma has always treasured grins wickedly and Snow throws back her head with an evil laugh. "Oh darling! If you think you will ever defeat me, you're living in a dream world. You as the uprising’s pathetic hope?!? Their promised Savior?" The words are hissed right in Emma's face as the clawed fingers squeeze her pounding organ tighter and jerk at it again, "It’s almost laughable. I am the Queen, and you will rot in this tower, unless you relinquish your lovely heart, and your magic, and submit to my control."

Emma is practically trembling with pain and exertion, sweat running down her forehead and stinging in her eyes, fists clenched at the effort it takes merely to retain awareness through this newest onslaught, petrified by what might happen to her if she slips away. She bites almost through her lower lip, trying not to scream or cry anymore – knowing it only brings this twisted version of Snow pleasure. She has also long since ceased trying to remind her mother of the truth, as it also brought only pain at previous attempts. It hardly bears mentioning that her magic is either not working or no longer accessible to her. She is certain that this Snow won't take that for an answer. Still, can't the other woman see that if Emma had control of her powers she wouldn't stay here at their mercy? Tears fall from Emma's eyes silently at the cruel, unknowing stare focused on her, but she holds back any sound.

The new Evil Queen twists her hand within Emma's chest, and Emma is sure she must be dying. A howl of agony tears from her throat against her will and echoes in horrible crescendo. The sounds of abject despair and torment go winging out the lone window of the tower to be heard for miles around by those who ignore the cries of a rumored hero supposedly suffering at the Queen's hand.

The heartless slave version of Prince Charming steps forward from where he waits in the shadows, hand outstretched in supplication as he urges his Queen. "Your Majesty!" he pleads fervently. "Stop, please! You'll kill her at this rate and never harness her magic for yourself!"

His dark haired mistress darts a dangerous, crackling, narrow-eyed look over her shoulder at him against the far wall, pausing only an instant before her hand shoots out and throws him against the solid stone, where he falls incapacitated. "Silence!" Snow White orders needlessly as he seems completely stunned into submission.

Her shuttered, emotionless eyes, venomous and sharp as any serpent's, flick back to her prisoner and gleam with cold intent. "You're going nowhere, Princess," she purrs, the title cruel and mocking with the inflection she gives it. "You'll die a prisoner either way. But how much more you suffer before I can gain your heart and your power is entirely up to you. Tell me now how I can accomplish this, and put yourself out of your misery."

Emma trembles helplessly where she stands; her abused, aching muscles stretched beyond endurance but unable to gain relief. She wants to cry out to Snow that she is not this monster; they need to fight together to escape whatever alternate reality Gold and the Author have plunged them into - despite knowing her plea will do no good. Though she senses she will need her magic before all is said and done, though she knows she must hang onto what strength and sanity she has left, Emma thinks that in this awful moment, if she knew how to give up her powers, she would allow the Queen to have them. She doesn't know where Killian or Henry, or any of the other people she has come to know and care about, are – if they have been brought along in this nightmare as well, if they know themselves, or if they have been changed. All she has seen is the inside of these stone walls and these horrific mockeries that should never be called her parents.

However, Snow White seems to take her quiet helplessness as defiance and she shrieks in wild rage. "Have it your way!" she yells. An almost electric pulse of energy erupts from the other woman's palm, and Emma feels it crawling through her veins, burning and scorching unbearably.

Her howls of helpless agony as she quivers in her restraints overlap on each other in desperate, unending climax, until she finally slumps, boneless and insensate in her chains, lost to the world.

~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~~

Killian Jones does not know how he got himself roped into such a ridiculous venture. He shakes his head in disbelief once more as he looks behind him to the skinny, bedraggled youth with brown hair flopping in his eyes who follows him through the thick undergrowth at the forest's edge – 'more a fool's errand than a hero's journey' his mind insinuates as he recalls the words of the boy on his heels as he had looked up at Killian with a wide open expression of hope.

What had he been thinking, letting his sense of duty move him to follow this child off his ship, away from the harbor, and on this – what had the lad called it? Operation? Yes, that was it…Operation Swan's Rescue. He had thought himself long past dreams of being a dashing hero and undertaking courageous missions for the good of his people. That was all burned away in the ashes of a Pegasus sail and sunk to the depths with Liam's body long ago, when he was another man. Yet, he has never claimed to be wise or cautious, to do what makes reasonable sense, and he was not able to resist this ragamuffin's precocious grin or the somehow familiar twinkle in his big, trusting eyes, and so here they were, quite possibly chasing a mirage, a dream: a princess in a tower needing a champion to save her.

The lad certainly weaves a compelling tale, Killian thinks to himself as he pushes further into the trees and bracken, keeping well off the beaten path. Of course, he has heard the stories; everyone in this section of the kingdom – where the tower is supposed to reside – has heard of the Savior, the lovely being of hope and light magic, somehow born to the Evil Queen and her favorite plaything, then imprisoned by said mother in fear of her daughter's magical power someday overthrowing her reign of terror. Killian himself had always thought them mere fables – fireside tales to charm and entertain. However, this boy seems so sincere, and so desperate, that he finds himself believing the youth's words.

Beyond that hunch, the sense of trust, his mind cannot help but whisper, 'What if?" If there is truly a Savior, a being of Light and Good, who could restore this land to what it once was, to the beautiful, peaceful kingdom of his youth where he remembers running wild in the fields with Liam chasing him laughingly, where he wove daisy chains to take home to his mother and he could still bask in the love of her pleased, quiet smile. If the Evil Queen's rule can be brought to an end, doesn't he owe it to his people, his country, and Liam's memory, to explore every possibility? Isn't it only good form for one in his post to venture forth and make sure? Not only that, but if such a pure innocent is being held captive, if everyone knows and merely leaves her to such a fate…it twists knots of tension in his gut, not letting his mind rest. A fool he may be. He may be walking directly to his death, but his conscience will let him pursue no other course.

They have come to a stop at a running brook – refilling their canteens, slaking their thirst, catching their breaths – when a wretched wail of agony rings out in the air, silencing the birds and echoing off the trees in harsh, violent waves. Killian's eyes meet the lad Henry's, and they both freeze, horrified by the sound of such suffering. The anguish he hears in that cry lets Killian know for certain he was right to follow this quest. He must stop whatever is being done to this prisoner.

They take off at a run, unheeding of their safety or what they may find. Crashing through thorn bushes and grasping vines, panting with exertion, they both nearly go tumbling headlong to the ground when Killian skids to a sudden halt and Henry plows right into his back.

They have dashed into a deserted clearing, and there before them, rising dark and foreboding into the clouds, stands the tower. The grey stones are cracked and jutting, looking as dark and unwelcoming as must have been intended, and though his eyes search frantically along the base, Killian can see no way in.

Both pirate and youth stand frozen in uncertainty for a long stretch, until abruptly the cries of suffering halt, all goes silent, and Killian finds himself desperately jolted forward. He does not know if this will work, but he simply must take action. The imprisoned woman – according to Henry, their last chance – cannot be dead. They cannot be too late. Grasping at the rugged wall as best he can with his one working hand, he wedges his hook into a crack between stones. With one last glance to make sure his young compatriot is still with him, Killian begins to climb the tower.

~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~888~~~

Awareness trickles back to Emma with the scrabbling, scratching sounds of metal scraping along stone. Blinking her eyes blearily and raising her head from where it had slumped awkwardly on her chest, she vaguely determines that the strange scuffling is coming from just outside her prison's single window.

Emma scrunches her brow in confusion, trying to determine what new threat could be coming for her now. She knows that the tower is high, high enough that no fully sane person would attempt to scale its walls. For the few fleeting instants she has been free of her chains in the years it seems she has been held captive here, she was able to see out over the entire forest, well over the tops of the tallest trees.

Just as she is looking fruitlessly around the barren room for something she can defend herself with against this intruder, a metal hook and strong forearm fling themselves in the window and clutch tightly, soon pulling a messily wind-ruffled head of black hair and a belovedly familiar face over with them. Her pirate, whom she had begun to fear herself lost from forever, practically hauls himself though the opening, flopping onto the stone floor, chest heaving with exertion.

"Killian!" she cries out plaintively, so glad to see him that she doesn't even care how girlish and helpless it might make her sound. "You found me!" She begins to run to him, momentarily forgetting her bonds, until the chains jerk her back.

His head shoots up at the sound of her voice, startled blue eyes meeting her gaze. He looks unsure, as if he doesn't know what to make of her awe-filled greeting. Turning quickly in the next moment to stand and return to the window again, he surprises her once more by reaching out his hand to pull someone else up and into the window after him.

Emma's heart swells at the sight of Henry. Both her son and the man she loves are here at last, safe and sound and come to rescue her. Henry doesn't seem to suffer the same confusion that Killian does. Once the man has stopped brushing him off, asking if he is okay, and lets him go, Henry rushes to her with a joyfully relieved shout of "Mom!" and wraps his arms around her – literally bringing warmth and hope back into her cold, lonely false existence.

"You found me," she repeats, a dazed whisper this time, overwhelmed by the belief and determination her son has shown to get here, and the bravery he has exhibited in climbing a tower guarded by the Evil Queen's men, at the risk of his own life – for her sake. She squeezes him tighter, wishing more than she has in all the rest of her time here to be free of the chains so that she can really take her little boy – well, young man now – fully in her arms.

She can only chuckle and shake her head when he grins at her and says exactly what she should have been expecting, "Did you really doubt we would?"

Emma's gaze flicks to Killian again, where he stands back awkwardly watching the reunion. He scratches the spot behind his ear uncertainly, but then he meets her curious, searching glance. She is frozen when their eyes make contact, breath catching with emotion. Not only is he here helping Henry, but he came to her aid even without remembering who she is or what they mean to each other. She wants so badly for him to hold her, for the sort of passionate kiss they have only recently begun to allow themselves to set everything back to rights.

Surprisingly, as the moment stretches on, Emma can see something come over Killian's face. She holds her breath, hoping against hope that somehow what they have, the connection between them, has survived this reboot of their history and who they are in this fictional reality. As she has suffered here alone, afraid she would never see his face, hear his beautiful, lilting voice, or feel his gentle but inflaming touch again, she had come to realize the truth. She loves him with a depth that scares her. She has for a long time, but could never find the words to say it aloud.

Killian tilts his head to the side, beautiful ocean eyes squinting in concentration as he studies her face, almost seeming to look beneath her skin, into her soul. Taking a tentative step forward, he reaches out, taking her hand in his one, gently rubbing soothing fingers over her skin reddened from the heavy shackle. Reaching out with his hook, he smoothes her wild, tangled hair back from her face and over her shoulder; a familiar, intimate gesture he has made several times, whether he realizes it or not. "I know you, Lass. Do I not?" he finally murmurs, eyes searching hers for an answer.

It is as though he has stolen the very breath from her lungs and the words right off her lips. All Emma can do is stare at him, amazed by his unbelievable, inexplicable faith, and nod in affirmation. She can still see wonder and adoration shining from his face, directed at her, even if he isn't sure why. Can he still somehow see what he means to her in her face? Still feel what they have – or echoes of it – despite everything that has been altered? Emma finds herself willing to hope as never before.

Unfortunately, at that moment they are interrupted by the sound of several pairs of booted feet pounding up the steps to her cell, harsh voices calling about intruders and securing the 'mad princess'. All three of them whirl to stare at the heavy door of Emma's cell in alarm, knowing the pirate and young prince can climb back out, but that they have no way to release her from her chains. She can't escape with them.

"Go!" she urges desperately, trying to spur both Henry and Killian on. She cannot bear to think what may happen to them if they are discovered here trying to free her. The guards are getting closer all the time and her heartbeat is pulsing in her throat at the danger to her two most precious loves. "You can't be found here! Please!"

Henry's eyes show understanding beyond his years as he nods his assent. Clasping her hand tightly for a split second, he vows, "We'll be back for you, Mom," before he moves toward the window, swinging one leg over the ledge and preparing to go.

Killian's face shows no such resignation. His look is desperate, frantic to save her. "What happens to you when we go, Love? I cannot leave you to them!"

"You have to, Killian…for now…I'll be alright." She gives him a brave, if tremulous, smile, needing him to be safe, even if she is not.

"No," he breathes, shaking his head and not moving an inch, even when Emma hears the running footsteps halt and instead the dreadful sound of a key turning in the ancient, rusty lock.

Whirling to face the door as it swings open, Emma prays that somehow Killian will slip out the window after Henry in the nick of time, or that some echo of the magic she possesses in their real world will shield him from their malevolent foes. Of course, as they have been ever since she opened her eyes in this parallel universe, her wishes are ignored, and with cries of attack four of the Queen's armed black guards charge forward.

Killian steps in front of Emma swiftly, easily shielding her in a single movement. He pulls the cutlass from his belt and strikes down the first assailant with deadly grace; the movement a slash as quick and sharp as a jagged finger of lightning. The second opponent meets his hook and falls motionless at their feet.

For several tense moments, Emma's breath is stolen watching the lethal accuracy Killian employs, protecting them both flawlessly and without hesitation. He ducks the third attacker's strike, and the guard overshoots, running past them, stumbling and falling just in time for the pirate to parry a fourth henchman's blow. They engage for only the briefest flurry of sword passes before Killian has bested this one as well and kicked the unconscious man away. He turns sharply, on guard with the knowledge that one last aggressor is still waiting.

Emma wants to call out to warn him, spare him the shocked pain she sees flare in his eyes when he finds his last foe, but she can't – not with the guard's hand gripping her throat, cutting off her air and her voice. She shakes her head at her sailor, knowing he won't protect his own safety but merely lunge forward to save her. She puts out a hand in an effort to wave him back, urging him to think for a moment, fight as smart as he has been, but somehow Killian misconstrues her motion and lets his eyes follow her gesture. Perhaps he thought she was reaching out for him in fear, but he is distracted one second too long.

The guard stabs forward, arm pushing stealthily from under Emma's outstretched one. He catches Killian in the side, under his ribs, and then drags the sword blade across and up, slicing a long path through leather and flesh with sickening depth.

Those fathomless blue eyes snap wide in shock and pain and a gasp flies from his lips as Killian's forward stride draws up short. Having achieved his goal, the final guard releases his grip on Emma and flings her away. Emma registers that she is screaming, crying out for Killian, but he doesn't answer, falling to his knees and bringing his hands up disbelievingly to the blood flowing from his side.

"Let that be a lesson to you before considering future attempts at escape," the guard growls roughly. "I'll leave him with you, to be sure you understand the price of crossing our Queen."

The heavy door slams shut again behind him, and Emma stumbles forward, clanking chains and all, to fall beside her pirate, sobbing out his name and pulling his head into her lap, cradling him protectively the best she can with her limited movement, tears falling from her eyes to his cheeks as she bends her head over him, fearing he is already gone, the wound is so bad. "Please…Killian…I'm so sorry…" she murmurs frantically, brushing his dark hair off his forehead, trying to ease his pain and keep him with her.

It isn't long before she feels smaller hands on her shoulders, pulling her into a hug from behind, trying to offer comfort before crouching next to her and attempting to staunch the blood still pouring from Killian's wound.

"Henry?" she questions blearily, confused.

He shrugs, "I just held onto the outside wall right below the window. Luckily they didn't check for anyone else. When the fighting stopped, I crawled back in."

She shakes her head at his daring, but her eyes quickly fly back to her pirate. To her shock, he is also chuckling at her son, though the sound is rough and choking. "There's a lad," he manages teasingly to Henry, before a horrible wracking cough interrupts and she sees blood at the corners of his mouth when he pulls his hand away afterwards.

Emma's tears still fall and she begins whispering apologies in his ear once more. He only shakes his head, "No, Lass…don't….be sorry. You are worth it. You and Henry….will find… a way out…I'm…glad I was…part of it…" His eyes flutter closed and his chest heaves mightily to keep moving up and down.

"Killian?...No!" she cries out when his eyes fail to reopen.

"Mom!" Henry breaks into her panic, his hand on her upper arm pulling her back to her senses. "Mom, you have to kiss him. True Love's Kiss! It'll save him. It has to!"

It seems so farfetched that she hardly dares to hope, but Emma is out of options and desperate not to have Killian slip away in front of her. Tracing a hand along his jaw, she lets her eyes slide shut and leans even closer to his mouth. Just before she presses her lips to his, she whispers as she did once before, "Killian, come back to me."

A disconcerting pull in her stomach and a spinning feeling makes it seem for a minute as if the world has turned upside down and the floor has dropped from under her. Blinking her eyes to look around once the whirling sensation eases, Emma is stunned to find them back in Storybrooke, sprawled inelegantly on the pavement in the middle of Main Street. Her fingers are somehow miraculously twined with Killian's as he sits up beside her, whole and unharmed from the sword wound still fresh in her memory, and her other arm is wrapped tightly around Henry. The chains and her tower prison are gone, and she gapes like a newborn baby at her surroundings. Killian turns to her, a rakish grin on his face, and she knows both realities are in his mind too. "It would appear you saved me, Swan," he teases lightly, but real affection brims in his eyes.

"What would I do without you, Pirate?" she whispers, holding on tighter and trying to keep the quaver from her voice as she burrows into his embrace. It is long past time he heard the words, and suddenly so simple for her to add in a whisper against his heart, "I love you."

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @searchingwardrobes @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @jennjenn615 @bmbbcs4evr @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @laschatzi @ilovemesomekillianjones @gingerchangeling @blackwidownat2814

#captain swan ff #self promo sunday #season four finale divergent fic #cs one shot #captain cobra #swan believer #canon divergent

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somewherebetweenrage · 5 months

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Difficult Person Test

tagged by: @shieldretired literal aeons ago <3

tagging: @wcrriorhearts , @defectivexfragmented , @survivorofhellskitchen , @acertainfemininemystique , @itsybitsypeterparker , @sioraiocht & anyone else who wants <3 (multis can choose which muse)

#why am i not even surprised #he's a disaster and an asshole #honestly a bit surprised he didnt score higher for grandiosity tbh xD #but hey at least he doesn't tend to be manipulative!#about: i am no hero. merely a man who has seen and done and endured what can never be forgotten or forgiven #ooc: out of patience

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foxydivaxx · 5 years

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Osiris Chapter 1

That poll with Rami Malek inspired me to write this fic because lets be honest, DC has not done Osiris, the Black Adam Family or majority of their Middle Eastern characters justice. Osiris for instance was badly written and turned into Superboy Prime junior in the pre-New 52 timeline and in New 52, he was killed off in his only appearance. Like da fuck DC?! That character had so much potential. Not just him, a lot of the Titans then had a lot of potential but you screwed these kids up. The storyline that was established for him in Brightest Day was a very interesting one and would have been more awesome if the Black Adam family actually had their own comic series. Look at what Marvel has done with Kamala Khan. Imagine what would have happened if either Osiris or anyone of the other kids got that opportunity. Anyways enough ranting and onto the fic itself. Rami Malek is Osiris’ FC here. This chapter is just an intro (or reintroduction to those that are familiar with him) to the character.

“I wanted to save the world.”

That is the answer I always give to people whenever they ask me to explain my motives or why I chose to be a hero in the first place.

There are times when I question my worth or my sanity because I have been through quite a lot of hell. Like if one were to ask me to define a tragic hero, I would point at myself.

For starters, my early childhood in Egypt was not blissful. You are staring at a boy who got constantly bullied as a kid because I looked different. Compared to other kids then, my skintone was slightly darker than normal Egyptian standards. Secondly, my eyes are huge, very owl-like that kids then cruelly nicknamed me ‘Bug Eyes.’

I would often go cry in a corner afterwards because besides the name calling, I had to endure days of severe beatings at the hands of those bullies. Making matters worse was my birth father whose name I would rather not mention. Why you might ask? Well thing is......he was an abusive asshole.

He would beat my mum, my older sister Adrianna and myself up a lot. Things got so bad that I ran away from home, never to be seen nor heard from again. Life on the streets was hard as the little money I got from mum was not enough, forcing me to fend for myself via pickpocketing and other means.

Then one day, everything changed. A crime syndicate known as Intergang captured me and took me to one of their concentration camps.

As fate would have it, my beloved sister Adrianna was amongst the captured. My parents’ absence there was enough to tell me what had become of them. Unfortunately we had no time to grieve becuase the Intergang bastards dragged us away and began to drug and torture us.

Adrianna was whisked away to be given to Black Adam whilst I remained with those bastards. Somehow, I was able to resist their mind control. Might be strong will power or possibly their methods were not working. Unfortunately for me, I got the beating of my life as those bastards clubbed me almost to death. I remember the pain, the blood, the tears, the anger I felt as nerve by nerve I was struck down till my legs were rendered numb.

Thankfully, Adrianna now the superheroine Isis and her husband Black Adam showed up just before death snatched me away. Isis tried to heal me but to no avail because the damage dealt to me was that severe. Adam was kind enough to give me a dose of his power as he felt that that was the only way to save me. Unfortunately he was right because whenever I revert back to my normal form, I am completely paralyzed from the ground up.

Anyway, thanks to that, myself, Adam and Isis formed a superhero team and family and I officially became the hero known as Osiris. Why Adrianna named me this is beyond me though. I was expecting something like Horus xD.

Anyways, we became a team and went around doing as much good deeds as we could. Heck I even joined the Team at one point even though most of them do not remember my name and often call me Black Adam Junior. Talk about insulting.

Yeah I did kill someone to protect Adrianna but that was a honest mistake. I did not realize that using my powers that way would harm someone like that. Plus I was still new to the superhero game anyway.

I left the Titans for a brief period after Wonder Girl asked me to hand myself over to the authorities for killing Persuader. I beat the shit out of her and called her out on her own hypocrisy on the spot because this girl also mistakenly killed someone in self defense of her mother years ago and yet, she has the guts to call me out on that?

Still the girl later apologised for this and I forgave and rejoined the Team. Still, I kept on having nightmares and panic attacks regularly. As if that wasn’t enough, I was forced to return to Kahndaq because of a serious of horrific events happening there.

Sobek my so-called best friend manipulated me into thinking that Adam was the one responsible for everything and I even attacked poor Adam for his troubles. I later made up my mind to leave Kahndaq but first I wanted to get rid of Adam’s powers feeling that they were corrupting me. I had also heard a lot about Adam’s terrible past atrocities and got paranoid about the stigma that followed our family because of him.

I did not believe that someone like Adam could actually change and that he was probably manipulating and using Adrianna for his own selfish purposes. Or at least that was what I was led into thinking.

I gotta hand it to Sobek here. He really is that good of an actor and a master manipulator. He was able to isolate me from the other Titans, making it seem like they were the bad guys whereas they are all good natured people and some of them have dark pasts or are dealing with dark presents.

Anyways, Sobek advised me to de-transform into my civilian form and that way, get rid of the curse though he expressed fake concern for me as he knew that I was crippled but I assured him that all would be well. Big mistake on my part because Sobek took advantage of my weakened state and ate me up alive, leaving me as mere bones.

I do not know much about that other than the fact that I was mummified and buried in a tomb. Soon afterwards, I was awakened from the dead by that cursed Black Lantern ring. My people feared me because well I was supposed to be dead and there I was wandering about in mummified form, trying to make a sense of the world around me.

Sobek’s subsequent arrival made it all click especially with the explanation he gave. He is one of the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, a group of four bioengineered monsters specifically created to destroy us the Black Marvel Family and he was Yurd, the Horseman of Faminine.

That alone infuriated me. How could I have been so naive to have taken pity upon a wretch like him? How could I have allowed myself to be played like that?!

I lost my shit and the two of us engaged in combat. Unfortunately I was outmatched because Sobek was a far more better fighter than I expected. Nervertheless, there was only one simple way to end a fight in our current state. Using the last of my energy, I called on the name of the very man that saved my life, channelling the thunderous rage of justice upon myself and Sobek, killing us both and severring the connections we both had to those blasted Black Lantern rings.

Still the White Lantern ring resurrected me much later on as well as the rest of the other slain heroes and a couple of villains. I know Sobek is still out there somewhere but right now, he is not my priority. Things have gotten better for me since that incident as I lived a normal life despite still being a paraplegic. My main priority now is to find out what caused both Adam and Isis to get petrified and try to undo the mess that has befallen my family and Kahndaq and maybe try and set things right without going astray.

So here we go. Hope you all like it. I tried my best with this guy because there are some things that were not mentioned so I just filled in the blanks for him and his family and also kind of retconned some things like his involvement with the Titans for instance. It is mostly Young Justice based but elements of the Teen Titans comics are there.

#osiris #amon tomaz #rami malek #fanfiction #dc #dcu #dc comics #shazam #black adam family #black marvel family #teen titans

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cluelessfanperson · 6 years

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(Possibly an) Unpopular SW Opinion* #2

Kylo Ren was a great villain who did not need to be “redeemed.”

The reason I loved Kylo Ren was because, in my opinion, he screamed aspiration. From the mask to the voice, I was instantly intrigued by the character because I felt that this was a man who aspired to be like Darth Vader.

“...I love the mask and the voice, and I felt it added to the aspect that Kylo overcompensated for his power, despite his power being large and unruly; it was the image of intimidation that Kylo chased, after his grandfather’s opposing image.”

The complexity would have rested in the reasons why he opted to put on a facade. Looking back at intriguing antagonists, there are so many options the writers could have played with:

Killmonger -- He lost his father (because of T’Challa’s father) and endured hardships in America, all while Wakanda remained comfortable and hidden. “Two billion people all over the world who look like us whose lives are much harder, and Wakanda has the tools to liberate them all... Where was Wakanda?”

Magneto -- He grew up in a concentration camp and witnessed his entire family die. Later, after his mutation was discovered, the citizens of Vinnitsa burned down the motel (or home) where his daughter, Anya, resided. He lost his own daughter (and wife, Magda) due to humanity’s ignorance and hatred. He did not want other mutants to suffer the same fate he had endured, to be oppressed simply because of their genetic structure. “I am no hero. Merely a man who has seen and done and endured what can never be forgotten or forgiven.”

Roy Batty -- He was a replicant, an AI with a limited lifespan who was also hunted by Blade Runners. He understood that he was proof of human evolution, and wanted to surpass his expiration date in order to fully comprehend his emotions (and even existence, as a conscious replicant). “Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave.”

Red Hood -- He is more of an anti-hero now, but he was once a major antagonist of Batman’s. He died in the hands of The Joker -- he and his mother were brutally tortured and executed. After being resurrected, he noticed that The Joker was alive. Eventually, he realized that major antagonists, as well as other disgusting figures who committed atrocities, are always incarcerated...rather than executed. He was a former protege of Batman’s and witnessed, firsthand, his mentor’s approaches to “bringing justice.” He believed that Batman’s refusal to kill those who deserved to die is an injustice to society.** “Is that what you think this is about? You letting me die? I don't know what clouds your judgement worse, your guilt or your antiquated sense of morality. Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why, why on God's earth...is he still alive?!”

Here is the thing about all of these antagonists: the films (or comics) did not attempt to redeem them (with the exception of Jason Todd). Instead, these films asked the audience to empathize with them. Without a doubt, all of these antagonists committed horrible atrocities that could not be justified, in the long run. It made their inevitable downfalls more tragic. These are complex villains; characters whose intentions are well, but the manners of executing them are...problematic. Their motives are justified; just not their ways of carrying them out.

Kylo Ren should not have written to be redeemed, but rather empathized with. The backstory behind his turning could have been way better (if the writers had made Kylo his own character, rather than a relative to Han and Leia) and more fleshed out -- the writers kind of limited themselves by including the original trilogy characters, rather than creating and developing new characters that could have actually affected Kylo’s personality (without annihilating the legacy and characteristics of Luke and the new protagonists).

Kylo Ren has (or had) the potential to be a memorable antagonist in the Star Wars Universe. He could have been a gray villain (or anti-hero) who actually pushed the boundaries of the lore (without completely disrespecting it). The reasons as to why he choose to pursuit the image of a Sith -- specifically, why did he create the Knights of Ren -- , could have been extremely compelling and more fleshed out. Unfortunately, the attempt by Rian Johnson (and the other writers) to “redeem” him (despite a kind of weak backstory) did not fully succeed -- that is also partially due to a lack of proper development for him (and basically all of the latest characters).

In short: some of the most memorable villains were never “redeemed.” Instead, they were written for audiences to empathize with.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk! I’d love to (politely) talk with you all about Kylo Ren. What are you opinions about him?

*Opinion - a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge. I figured I’d leave this here in case hardcore stans or antis begin to make claims. ** If you can’t tell, I’m a massive Batman fan. I love the Red Hood/Jason Todd because he challenges Batman’s moral code. The same with Killmonger :)

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itsgentleteasingrae-blog · 6 years

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Gentle Host Tickles

Intro: Hi there! I’ve been dealing with finals and so I haven’t done much when it comes to writing or interacting with people. Recently I just had a strong feeling to want to write some fluffy gentle tickles, and then that maybe the Host would be a good character for this. I always imagined him to have a kind of toughness, as if he had a bad past, I mean the man wears a bloody blindfold/cloth over his eyes. So I figured with that, he would be much more sensitive (and possibly enjoy, wink wink) gentle tickles.

Thought process: Again, with the whole Host and gentle tickles. For some reason I had a thought that maybe he secretly enjoys it and that in his spare time somehow would do it to himself. One was dragging a feather around on his spots and just giggling away. However, with what I had in mind wouldn’t work. Another one was him using his own narrative powers to tickle himself with; however with that once he starts giggling he wouldn’t be able to make a clear sentence for tickles to continue (and I would have had Dark come in and save him since with celine’s powers, he may have a small fraction of narrative powers, nothing big like controlling someone, but enough to describe feeling). So then I was thinking that maybe, Host can use his narrative powers on the feather, so as he drags it across himself it feels like someone else is tickling him so his nerves don’t expect it’s actually their own user. Now at this point it was to come two paths. I could have it so the feather “malfunctions” and tickle attacks the Host, or a character walk in on Host and then a fluffy story with that. I eventually chose the latter, but now I do have an idea for the former. I figured telling my thought process could help other people with writer’s block take an idea and start there. And with that, onto the story!

Word Count: 1973

It had been a pretty calm day for the Host. Nothing too exciting was going on. He currently had been strolling around the library pondering at the vast amounts of literature displayed on the shelves. He had been feeling off lately, the feeling being very familiar to him. You see there was a reason the Host hanged out in the library when he had this feeling. It was a very personal space as not many come to visit the library.

This feeling he had, makes it almost impossible to be around the others. Perceiving all sorts of objects that could be weapons. No, not the dangerous kind. The kind that gives you goosebumps. The kind of weapons that bring tingles and shocks in your nerves. The kind that will tickle. Ah yes, the Host could barely stand straight when perceiving those objects without getting flustered. You see, my dear reader, the Host was in a mood. A mood to laugh you could say. A mood of playful teasing and tickling and bonding. However, that’s what had make this mood difficult.

Many upon many scenarios flew through the Host’s mind. Could they be possible futures, or are they secret fantasies? Questions came along with the visions. What if he were to say reaching for something the normal Mark ego cannot reach, but reachable just enough if he were to just stretch. Oh my, the mere thought of the amount of vulnerability made the Host shiver with delight. The Host loved this feeling. He loved the thought of bonding with the others over such a delicate and playful manner. But alas, the Host couldn’t tell. He felt bashful with the very thought of asking one of them to partake in the activity.

As much as he would have loved to pretend that he was in an…exposed state, he couldn’t even hide his bright flush that beamed from his face, matching the cloth wrapped around his head. And so, we lead to where the Host is placed in this situation. He merely only had to take care of it himself.

The Host glides over to the office area of the library, checking to make sure no one will see what is about to happen, although maybe he wouldn’t mind if they did either. He opened up a draw and plucked out a stiff, long, feather. Twirling the tool in his fingers he spoke, “It was then when the Host’s hand no longer became his own, until further notice.”

He then felt his hand go numb as it continued to hold the soft tool. It then raised itself up and brought itself closer until the feather brushed lightly against his collarbone and neck. The Host did not resist the giggling that escaped his lips. It felt nice. The feather oh so delicately flicking across his neck, at times moving up to tease the shell of his ears, before moving down to his collarbone once more. Try as he might, but the Host couldn’t help but twist his neck to protect the side being tormented with feathery kisses.

“Hehehehhahhaah nohohohoho!”

“Ah, I was beginning to wonder where that delicious laughter was coming from.”

The Host turned white, reaching for his attacker hand. Someone was with him, and that someone was the one and only Darkiplier. Unfortunately, his possessed hand knows his body too well and dropped the feather, and quickly diving into his coat and gently scratching at the open underarm that was given.

“EEHEHEHhehehehhehe n-n-nooohohohhoho enough pleehehhease! Desihihihist!”

The Host let out a surprised squeal at the contact under his arm. He had no way of retrieving his hand now until it decides to move on. What only made it worse was seeing Darkiplier stare at him curiously with an amused smirk. Oh god what would he think of him? Defeated by himself over tickling! Darkiplier continued to observe the silly Host as he held his arms behind his back as usual.

“Having a bit of trouble are we today?”

“Sh-sh-shuuhuhuhut up and hehehehelp t-the Hohohohost!”

“Such attitude towards your hero, but if I must.”

Darkiplier waltz over towards the Host and lifted his arm that was pinned to the desk to minimize the tickling, taking in the sweet frantic giggling as now the hand scribbled its dull fingernails across the open armpit.

“My my, it’s really going at it isn’t it?”

“Dahahahahahark please! The Hohohohost can’t stahahand you seeing hihihim like this!”

Now Dark COULD help the Host out and be done with it. However the sound of Host’s giggling was too much to pass by. Dark instead knelt down while still holding Host’s arm above his head and pushed his coat to the side. The former then began gently prodding his fingers up and down the Host’s side, delighted to hear the squeal the Host exerted.

“D-DAHAHARK?!”

“Yes Host?”

“IHIHihihit tihihihickles!”

Dark awed to himself with Host’s innocent choice of words. He allowed his fingers to very gently knead the fleshy sides of the Host, constantly switching to surprise him. Honestly, it was adorable seeing the Host jerk from side to side, doing his “best” to escape his devilish fingers.

“Oh really? Does it tickle, tickle, tickle? You got yourself into this, and now I’m beginning to wonder why. Care to tell Hosty?”

The Host shook his head. The sensations were driving him mad, in a good way. The hand gently scribbling away at his underarm, along with the kneading and spider tickles on his sides. It’s almost all what the Host could want. He could feel his face burn with a red hue of blush. His entire body trying to escape while his will attempts to keep him still so he could endure more. That is, when his hand switched and poked his tummy.

“EEEHEHEHAHAHAH NONONONHAHOAH!”

Dark bit his lip, trying not to laugh along with the Host. It was a very bubbly and happy laughter, similar to Wilford, but without the accent and slur. It was adorable, and perfect.

“I’m guessing you’re sensitive there? That’s frankly adorable Host. How could you for all these years hide this from us?”

It was then when Dark noted the feather that was dropped onto the floor. In order to reach it, he would need to let go of the Host. And let go he did. Bending down to retrieve the device, only to reel back up to notice the Host was using his free hand to grip the chair he sat in instead of protecting his sensitive tummy. Dark smiled adoringly at the Host. It was majestic to see someone who is normally stoic and monotone, speak so vibrantly and blush a beautiful red.

“YEHEHEHEHES!” The Host squealed out. He gripped his chair as soon as he felt his arm free. Just because it tickled so much from such a gentle touch, doesn’t mean he didn’t want it to stop yet. Of course, due to his hysteria, the Host was unable to focus and see the feather Dark held slowly float closer and closer to a piece of exposed skin on his waist until-

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHNONONONO DOHOHOHN’T YOU DAHAHHARE! PLEEHEHHHEASE!”

As much as Dark fought, he could no longer hide his fond smile for the Host. He gently dusted any patch of exposed skin, while the Host’s hand slowly pulled up his shirt. Afterwards, the hand then went to hold the Host’s free hand and allow Dark to do all the work. The Host’s nerves caught on fire as Dark drew shapes lazily around, sometimes giving the feather a small flick over the small pudge on the Host’s waist, earning a delightful squeal. Yes, this was exactly what the Host needed.

“Don’t I dare what? Tickle this adorable, sensitive tummy before me? Dragging this feather over every inch of flesh just gentle enough so it’s maddening? You know you lie, you do wish for that, do you not?”

Oh yes, Dark knew. With how flushed the Host was before he interrupted, with how he refuses to escape even when he’s free. Hell he’s pretty sure he’s seen Host lean into his fingers a few times. Plus, this wasn’t exactly the first time he’s seen Host do this. It’s not like the Host has the library to himself. It was honestly amazing to see the Host like this.

“Y-yoouohohohou’re ehehevihihihl…”

“Oh am I? I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure a CERTAIN Host enjoys such delicate touches. But if you want evil…”

Dark then slowly made bigger shapes, big enough until one big circle was all that could be displayed on the Host’s abdomen. Dark made sure to be careful in slowly making the circles smaller, while making them seem like the same size. It of course worked until Dark slowly brushed the rim of his navel.

“How’s this for evil?”

“D-D-DaAHAHaahahaAHrk! P-p-p-p-please! N-n-noahaht THEehehhere!”

“I don’t know, from what I know this is your favorite spot correct?”

The Host simply blushed a bit more and attempted to hide his face in his arm.

“N-no…th-thahahat is f-f-false!”

Dark shook his head, acting disappointed.

“Oh Host, you don’t have to lie to me. Besides, little liars don’t get what they desire.”

Dark purred in a sing-song like voice. Host’s blush began running down his neck. He regained some of his sense to where he can see Dark’s crimson orbs staring, waiting for a response. Meanwhile that damned feather continues to tease. Host didn’t care anymore, if Dark has dealt with this for this long, he might as well open up. He turned his head towards Dark and gave a small nod.

Now Dark isn’t that cruel. Honestly he commends the Host for such bravery. Knowing the Host was able to sense him, he gave a comforting smile, before it twisted into a devious grin.

“Now, shall we?”

Nod.

“You’re funeral.”

He dipped the feather into Host’s bellybutton, fluttering it around and twisting it just so all the bristles touch every inch. The Host shrilled and boomed with laughter and arched like no tomorrow. Well except for the fact that arching caused the feather to plunge in deeper, causing his body to react in shock from so much energy in the bundle of nerves. Host shrieked and pulled back, his whole body thriving to just curl up right then right now, but he won’t let it.

“Oh? Did Hosty like that? Cootchie coo! Cootchie coo the bellybutton!”

Dark then, dipped the feather in just enough where it hits the bottom and the tip of the feather fluttering over the core of the nerves, the knot. As a grand finale, Dark then took his index finger from his free hand not holding the feather, and gently scratched the spot right under the ridiculously sensitive navel. That’s when the Host broke. With a final shrill, he let go of the chair and allowed his aching body to finally curl up, nearly falling out of the chair.

Dark looked at Host worriedly. He knew the Host was a tough man, but he still feared he took it too far. He pushed his fingers on Host’s chin to make him look up. There were a couple of red, blood tear streaks that painted over his scarlet face. The Host was still giggly as he recovered from the ghosty tingles and faced up with a smile, ensuring Dark that he was okay. Dark sighed and smiled fondly at the Host.

“Are you okay Host?”

“Heheyes, t-theheh…Host…is fine.”

“Good. Now Host, just know, you don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me if you are ever in this mood that you’re in. Despite how wonderous you look, you just looked so alone in here all by yourself. I know it’s going to take some time, but just know I’m here for you. Do you understand?”

The Host smiled, beaming with joy.

“Yes sir Dark, I understand.”

#tickle fic #tickle #lee!host #tickling #ler!dark #gentle tickles

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doctorpariahdax · 7 years

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Stick around Corvo fans-How Daud was thrown away and enlightened as a character in Dishonored series.

This is gonna be long so buckle up kiddos. There's a couple things that immediately come to mind for fans of the Dishonored universe and from what I've come across is that you either love Daud or you hate him. And I don't think that's directly a flaw with the character himself but how he was presented. There are a couple things I want to list that I'll further elaborate on that pertain to how Daud was thrown away as a character (ruined) and elaborated on. -dauds inital purpose -mercy or le death -yay classic redemption arc - except lol maybe not what did you do -true character nature -the marked and the outsider's approval -the purpose of doto -the end of daud Now to give you full disclosure I have not yet run through all of Dishonored 2 or doto. I am by no means a completionist, I don't feel pressured to explore every nook and cranny just for some obscure letter written by one of Delilah's witches that tells you something about someone somewhere about hlahblahblhab. Now because I'm a responsible impulse efficient and self controlled person roaming social media I spoiled the end of doto for myself and I am deeply saddened because Daud is my favorite character. I don't know if it's a kink of mine to like dangerous emotionally unavailable and unattainable men (cuz he's ded. Lel nah he's fictional) but Daud was genuinely more interesting to me than Corvo. This is not to say that the first Dishonored is bad, but the story was lacking for me - I'm very much a story seeker- and when the game first came out I played the intro and immediately set down the game thinking, "ehng...". When I decided to give Dishonored another try (*cough this summer cough six years later cough*) I kept going not because of my interest in Corvo or the outsider, or getting Emily back safely (don't get me wrong I like kids but Corvo is either best or worst parent and I can't decide which); I kept going because I wanted to know more about the "villain". He's an assassin, a merc for hire which to me meant his character is either going to be really deep or inexplicably shallow. I was upset at first, he wasn't in the game as much as I thought he would be but Dishonored has a tendency to shove information by into your face /after the fact/. I spared the villain hoping I would see him again. I didn't. ....until I found out there were dlc's. Staying with my rant? Digital cookie for you. Dishonored's story telling was on par and in many cases far better than the knife of dunwall, but the first dlc was very much a setup for the brigmore witches dlc, which in turn was what I think the best story telling in the whole Dishonored series.. Gonna go into my points listed above now because either don't want you to read through this thinking it was total anxiety induced stress writing (...which it definitely isn't....by the way....) There's a general healthy mindset that people inherently dislike villains, evil doers and all round moral miscreants, Daud being an assassin for hire and not much more in Dishonored as his initial purpose was already be placed in a rough position that a portion of players might find amiable but mostly for his badassery and not much in the character development isle. The way I see it is that you first are greeted with Daud's be character development in one of two ways(or a blend): you want Corvo to be moral and spare Daud, or upon hearing that Daud reports to you there's something by inside of him suffering you spare him to let him suffer more. Daud's intial purpose was to be a 'bad guy' and in either scenario he is still seen as being the bad guy or getting a cliche "this is worse than death and you deserve to suffer" sort of ending. When you come to knife of dunwall Daud is...tired. there's no simpler way for me to describe it. He's lived above and away from any higher power than himself (cuz we all know the outsider doesn't seem to give a hair on his left ball about Daud but he'd dress in drag and do the hula for Corvo...#dauddeservesbetterfriends) And we know or at least can vetire the thought that Daud has adjusted to his life as a killer, but he doesn't seem active enjoyment from it. I'm not exonerating Daud's tendency for murder, but think of it this way, he is a serial killer by death count but he's not a Ted Bundy or Hannibal Lecter. Killing doesn't give him satisfacyion, it is just a job and people are hard to become attached to when you have to look at them often as return receipts and cashiers. That's not to say that Daud doesn't feel love. I genuinely think he loved Billie as a sort of best friend and daughter. The death of empress kaldwin has hit daud hard too. He knew it was a bad idea but it was habit, it was just a contract, and jessamine meant nothing of compromise to Daud personally. When Daud is betrayed by Billie and given a death date from the outsider Daud has already submitted in some form to his own fleeting mortality and is pained after decades of his reputation getting ahead of himself to the point where he wouldn't say 'no' to a contract. I feel that Daud felt as though he was becoming more of a Lecter esque serial killer to the public, that who he was, his identity had been lost underneath the bodies he's left in his wake...and he regrets all of it, realizing its futility, pointlessness. People are just contracts to him, but he never actively sought to I'll with the purpose of hurting the very fiber of others' existence... When you spare Daud as Corvo his single line proclaiming how extraordinary your willingness to give him clemency is isn't a line to me that was ultimately thrown to the wind, it was something that genuinely sparked upset and fascination in Daud. Corvo did something Daud hadn't done since he had moved from serkonos, and without the incentive of pay - Corvo decided to spare a life. That ruptures something deeply in Daud, who had already endured his midlife crisis and brings me to the third bullet point "classic redemption arc" although it does matter what you do....that changes Daud's character to me...idk. All in all the only right way I saw to play brigmore witches was to go non-lethal stealth...and trick Delilah into her own spell. Daud is a master assassin. It made no sense for him to merely go jumping around murdering everyone who saw him (this is how I initially played Corvo because dayum I was bad at stealth games also pc controls, but then again Corvo isn't a master assassin when you first meet him...Daud is). After a struggle with Delilah, you hold onto the platform and read her citations and she flies off of you, into the painting, I wanted there to be a classic breathless hero who mutters calmly "gotta quit smoking" ( drum crash) and goes about his business. But! Something I feel a lot of fans of Dishonored overlook is that Daud had no need to further pursue Delilah. He could easily have faded into obscurity around the second mission when he realized that Delilah was after Emily and not him, but he ventures forward, accepting his fate - tired and downtrodden about his choices and the inevitable futility of his fate- in the efforts to save the life and hope that still exists in young Emily, the daughter of the empress he murdered right before her eyes. It's a move of an apology, a silent, self accepting apology with no further requirements for acknowledgement. Which brings me to the true nature of daud in addition to the nature and approval of the outsider to his marked ones. Daud in canon does not kill but traps Delilah. Daud is a mater assassin. He's quick he's quiet he is an efficient man with little room in his life or care for killing as a sport....he is to some extent evil, but he is not incapable of doing good to simply do good. The outsider is decribed furtively as a true neutral character who appeals to the benevolent options but is known to commit 'evil' by not intervening. He seems to be a strong advocate of free will but does extend the occasional helpful hint to his marked ones. Daud is told by the outsider that how he handles Delilah will be viewed with great curiosity which is another added caveat to Daud's evolution as a character and devolution as an identity. The outsider became bored with Daud, stopped willingly checking on him, but when Daud does the 'unusual' sparing Delilah but torturing her for (what was supposed to be eternal) ...he gains the outsider's favor, even if for juat a moment. He fades into obscurity for both Corvo and the outsider, even to his own men, abandoning the identity of 'daud' and presumably not going on a killing spree. The purpose of doto.....I'm not 100% sure of a 'purpose', but doto makes or breaks Daud for most people. For me it did both. But it didn't break Daud's character development for me because he saw the outsider specifically as an excuse for all the murder and the theiving and the murder and did I mention Daud murdered? He had to kill the outsider to prevent another 'daud'. The outsider was the omniscient condoner. 'daud' would not have ever easily existed to such fame or success without the aid and the passive/spontaneous condoning of the outsider and his abilities. Few be if any would have managed to be a 'daud' identity without being able to be so far above the confines of human abolity to cheat mortal instruments of death.... Corvo and his attempt to save Emily would have been a fly's breath shy of impossible without the outsider to tinker with the impossibilities. Daud's action to kill the outsider was selfish, I can see and agree with that, but he only wanted to destroy the exoneration of evil, not to simply forgive his transgressions by eradicating and blaming the one who allowed and corroborated with him to be such. How doto has presented Daud in doto and how many people have received and reacted to Daud's presented purpose in doto did misrepresent and destroy in some regards the development they took with Daud's character, but let me reiterate that his character development itself was not thrown out the window, it was how his character was presented in a plot and the narrative around doto. ...let me again remind you I said I haven't exactly finished doto....because I spoiled it for myself and I don't want Daud to die...again....finally? Maybe not the right words - oh look I've made myself sad, fancy that - but the point. Of this ramble which now I don't know how to end and I don't think I've ever spent so long on Tumblr in one sitting .... Daud is not a poorly constructed character. Doto poorly presented him and he deserved better. Doto also made Daud's character solidfied. He's not a gentle being. He's stern, violent, reserved and determined, but he's also deeply emotional and self loathing. He aspires to destroy the outsider because of what the outsider allowed in to do, he did not pursue or seek to blame the outsider into naively forgiving himself for the crimes he committed. It was a matter of settling his conscience. Probably with the abuse of his powers, a lot of stress, whiskey, cigars, and breaking a handful of bones repeatedly over his career and his guilt Daud was well aware he was on his deathbed long before Billie found him and he had been haunted by his blindness and decades of him /having forgiven and forgotten/ his crimes that it drove him to death. Daud is not a poorly constructed character. I would argue he was a character that the Dishonored series put the most time and effort into.

#Long post #lmao #outsider forgive me #Daud #assassin #Dishonored #Dishonored 2 #death of the outsider #Billie lurk #Corvo #Corvo attano #the outsider #character analysis #also I'm tired and I've never spent this long on Tumblr in one sitting

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vintagemichelle91 · 7 years

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A Hard Lesson in Vanity: Chapter 6

Authors’ Note: Let’s check in on Rafael and see how he is actually dealing with being second chair! Once again @rauliskafan and I thank you for the feedback! We look forward to it and it gives us joy to bring this new part to you guys to fill in the hiatus void!

“Ready to roll?”

Rafael looked up from his case notes to see Eve Selby framed in the doorway of the courthouse conference room. Her dark hair crowned her head by way of a braid, and her cream-colored suit made him consider questioning where she had her outfits tailored. Shaking the idea off, for now, he packed up his briefcase and removed his glasses to meet her eyes.

“Absolutely,” he started. “Might be something to your master plan.”

“Think you’ll see I’m a perfect fit for this position,” Eve said. “Ever gone fishing by any chance?”

“Fishing?” he echoed. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Not a surprise,” Eve chuckled. “It’s cold and messy and requires a supreme amount of patience. Somehow I think that none of those are your style.”

He felt his jaw unhinge, his tongue starting to fire back a retort when she grabbed his arm and gave a squeeze through his pinstriped jacket just above the elbow.

“I’m having some fun with you,” she said. “Don’t tell me you can’t take a joke.”

In response, his slowly nodded… slightly stunned when she patted his cheek.

“Better,” Eve said. “I would think that a lone wolf in a house of ladies is used to being that kind of thing.”

“Well…” On that fact, she was spot on. Natalia teased whenever he scowled, and Violetta was always quick to point out when he was being too literal for her liking. Ashtonja, so prim and polite, seemed at home enough to roll her eyes when he started to glide off the rails. Even the twins were already tuned into his moods and learned to stop squealing and reach for his nose if the situation suddenly felt too serious.

“You are good,” Rafael had to admit. “Perhaps I’ll pick up a few pointers watching you play the game.”

“Damn straight you will,” Eve agreed before they headed to the courtroom. Glancing into the gallery, Rafael spied the squad sitting, waiting. Eve was quick to smile at all of them, and Rafael locked eyes with his brother-in-law.

“Problem?” Rafael asked.

“Not from here,” Dodds said. “How’s it looking?”

“Our chances are good.”

“Think you can let her take the lead?” Dodds asked.

If he was being honest, second chair still stung around the edges, creeping slowly towards the center of his stomach like a series of sloppy somersaults. In the past, those flips would settle before stretching up his throat to fly out and stick the landing the instant he saw a jury. Today would require a different feat of strength, enduring various stretches of forever while twelve men and women reviewed the facts. Yes, there was the familiar hope that they would come back with one word: guilty. Naturally, he wished he was leading this team of two. But it was up to Eve to spread the chalk and go for the gold.

“I have to be,” Rafael said. “And I could do worse than...”

He gestured to Eve literally laying out the case before sitting in the supple leather chair and crossing her long legs. Not one single fidget. She did not even reach for the pitcher of water resting on the table. Yes; he could do much worse.

“Well will you look at that,” Dodds said.

John Buchanan wore much more flop sweat than usual. The man probably faced juries in his sleep, somehow dreaming himself the hero even though so many of the men and women he defended dripped with guilt. All in a day’s work; on some level that much Rafael understood. Possibly in the past he had even excused. But inevitably his mind floated back to Robert Emerson… what his hands had done to his wife, his hermosa flor. Buchanan wanted that scum to walk. For that he became and remained enemy number one, and a part of him always want to throttle the son of a bitch for trying to set more monsters free.

“You okay?” Dodds knowingly asked.

“Just dandy,” Rafael quipped. “Buchanan looks a little green around the gills”

“Bad breakfast burrito or ten,” Dodds snickered before returning to his seat, and Rafael caught a quick smile passing between Eve and Carisi as he started to sit…

…stopping short when he viewed Rollins looking worse than the defense lawyer, and he searched for something to say, small talk to be sure but at least something soothing, when Eve tapped his arm.

“You still with me, Rafael?” she asked.

“I…”

He had asked Natalia if Rollins was the reason she seemed uneasy after the dinner party. His wife merely nodded and said that she had hoped for something different for Sonny. After that, she wanted to let the matter drop, and she snuggled so close albeit without the blue negligee he had hoped for. That subject fell away as well, and it was always enough to hold her, to savor her soft skin under the tips of his fingers…

…and her long, loving kiss before he left that morning convinced him that he would do anything to sweep the sinners from the streets and paint the way ahead with petals worthy of her fair feet.

Even if it meant having to hold his tongue, and the somersaults promising to lead nowhere.

“I am, Ms. Selby,” he said. “Make the fat man squirm.”

“That’s a bit crude,” Eve said with a small smirk.

“That’s our adversary,” Rafael replied. “Don’t forget it.”

“I never underestimate the men I’m up against.” With that, she stood slowly to deliver her opening argument.

“Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen,” she began. “I want to start by thanking you for joining us today. This is a matter of grave importance and don’t think that the twelve of you were selected by accident; you are the best jury… the only jury for this moment in time.”

Rafael watched the assorted men and women beam with pride in the wake of her words, and he settled back in his chair, expecting a litany of all the reasons why the defendant, why Julian Frost was guilty---

“Honestly, I don’t want to take up too much of those valuable minutes,” Eve continued. “Your presence is already enough. I defer to my able colleague. I am sure that he has a story to tell, and we’ll talk again when the time is right. Just wanted to say hello. And again… thank you.”

Smiling, she turned on her heel and returned to her chair. Rafael sat still for a second until she shot him a wink.

“It’s called getting on their good side right off the bat,” Eve said. “Try it one of these days.”

He rolled his eyes as Buchanan lumbered forward and spent the better part of a half hour outlining all the ways in which his client was a pillar of the community, artistic and otherwise. He accused their victim of being an opportunist, someone who ultimately failed Frost’s film… someone who was crying rape in a pathetic bid for attention, the spectacle of the courtroom and possibly a stint at a reality show which would document her life as a desperate actress.

But if anyone in the courtroom sounded desperate…

“Bullseye,” Eve muttered under her breath. “Just the jerk I wanted him to be.”

“Not bad,” Rafael admitted out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ve only ever seen him finesse a jury.”

“Give yourself some credit, counselor; I know you’ve had him up against the ropes a time or two.”

“Have you made a habit of studying my case histories?” he asked as he lowered his eyes behind his glasses and looked to her pen furiously scribbling notes on a legal pad.

“Of course,” Eve said. “Heard it said once that you were the King of the Courtroom.”

“I think you’re about to challenge me for that title, Ms. Selby.”

Their eyes locked, and Rafael smirked, ready to watch her lay waste to both Buchanan and Frost. One thing for her to lay it out at his dinner table; quite another to see it wielded like a sword, aimed at the hearts of the opposition. Eve blushed as she dropped her pen, and when Buchanan’s far lengthier closing argument came to a halt, she stood to take another turn. Glancing over his shoulder, he spied the squad sitting on the edge of their seats… save for Rollins who stared at her shoes.

“Well, I guess I better get down to brass tacks,” Eve joked with the jury. She started with the admitting emergency room doctor who examined Marcia Brown in the wake of her assault. And then Liv entered to take the stand. Rafael exchanged a quick glance with her, and he saw her confidence in Eve, listened as the lieutenant listed off the actress’ attitude, affect, and all the other reasons why it to believe her above all else. At the heart of Liv’s argument, there were six simple words.

“Marcia did not ask for this,” Liv said, cutting her eyes towards the jury. “She signed on to his film to work. Julian Frost flipped the script.”

“Objection!”

Buchanan’s voice rang out, and even though the last part of Liv’s testimony was stricken from the record, Eve smiled as she resumed her seat.

“That’ll leave a mark,” she muttered under her breath.

And Rafael could not help but agree. Buchanan’s attempts to paint the actress as a fake and a fraud fell flat once the words left his mouth, and when Marcia Brown took the stand, her eyes watery and her voice more so with every beat of her tragic tale, Buchanan could do little in the way of objections. He cracked his knuckles when he had his shot at the actress, but she stood up under his cross, and the tears that finally flowed did nothing to endear him or his client to the jury.

“Bet you my salary that he doesn’t ask for a recess,” Eve said.

“You don’t he wants a chance to regroup?” Rafael asked.

“Not if I know where his mind’s at,” Eve replied. “He wants to turn the tide now. If he can.”

Right on cue, Buchanan called Julian Frost to testify. The fair-haired director sat in the witness box and explained how Marcia Brown was a gifted thespian but not up to the task of his major motion picture.

“First it was a bullseye, and now we’re talking jackpot,” Eve said, standing slowly to button her blazer and stare the defendant down.

“Mr. Frost, I’ve been looking over your credits.”

“Where do you find the time?” he laughed, trying to seem friendly or charming or something sincere in the eyes of the jury.

“I love light reading,” Eve continued. “This one caught my eye… Diana. At first I thought it was another Princess of Wales story but---”

“It’s a myth,” Julian said. “Retold for the modern age.”

“Too bad she couldn’t talk to audiences the way she talked to animals,” Eve said. “The reviews… those that I could find… they called it a new low in---”

“There were some post-production problems with that one,” Julian said, shifting in his seat.

“Just that one?” Eve challenged. What about Corsets? Was that an actual film or just an excuse to watch women in costumes that flatter the bust? Or maybe you prefer looking at women in cages?”

“It was a period piece,” Julian said. “And a damn good one if I say so myself.”

“Can you say the same for Starlight. Now this one really seemed like a sure thing! I mean, who hasn’t envisioned the Last Supper inhabited by a cast of aliens and---”

“Your honor, is there a relevant question here?” Buchanan demanded. Waiting, wishing he had the director in his cross hairs but still admiring Eve’s abilities, Rafael watched her stare down the witness with fire in her eyes.

“The fact of the matter, Mr. Frost, is that you haven’t had a hit in almost five years. So maybe you’re the one seeking some attention.”

“No.”

“I think yes,” Eve continued. “Maybe you were lonely or just feeling a little less than. Isn’t that why you lured Ms. Brown to---?”

“Enough, you lying little bitch!” he exclaimed. “I’ll show you some real attention that will make your head---”

The entire courtroom gasped, and Eve took a step back. Carisi stood to steady her as she waved him off, and Rafael saw the director sputter as he tried and failed to smooth the wrinkles from his tie.

“I… yes,” he began. “Maybe I… maybe I haven’t had a hit in years. Maybe I’ve got more ex-wives and alimony payments than the good people of this jury would care to count. But I…”

Slumping back in his seat, Julian Frost shook his head and folded his hands in his lap.

“But I did not do this. Marcia came on to me. I never raped her.”

“Can’t wait to see the trailer for that one,” Eve scoffed softly before withdrawing the statement as the judge called the afternoon recess, and she nudged Rafael’s side.

“Think this is almost in the bag,” she said.

“Are you so sure?” Rafael asked. “Buchanan will have other witnesses.”

“Fellow directors,” Eve said. “An actress or two looking for her chance in the spotlight.”

“You sound so uncharitable,” Rafael observed.

“Why do they deserve my pity?” Eve asked. “They never garnered one decent review. But I’ll know a thing or two about raves before the evening is out.”

She patted his cheek again and departed with a grinning Carisi for lunch… prompting Rollins to leave without a word. Hoping that he would see her outside, Rafael failed to find her, and there was nothing to do but hit the food trucks with Liv and Dodds.

“She really impressed me,” Liv said. “If only every perp could sing on cue.”

“Are you saying that I’m not theatrical enough for you?” Rafael asked.

“Come on, Barba,” she laughed, handing him a napkin and a straw. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in awe of you more times than I could count.”

“Have you?” Rafael asked, his eyebrows lifting to his hairline.

“Don’t let it give you a swelled head,” Liv said, leaving his side to take a call, leaving him with Dodds who said little as they finished their lunch and exchanged greetings with Eve and Carisi before returning to the trial. And after the parade of performers and the closing arguments, the jury was out for less than an hour.

“Your honor, we find the defendant, Julian Frost, guilty of the charge of rape in the first degree.”

The director’s body sagged, and he flailed and fumed as he was led from the courtroom. Rafael watched Eve and Liv congratulate Marica Brown and wanted to call it a day well done, wanted to return to Natalia. Sitting second chair hadn’t been horrible. Not that he wanted to make a habit of it but---

“Rafael?”

The sound of Eve’s voice stirred him from his thoughts, and he met her blue eyes… saw her smile.

“Come on; we’re celebrating tonight.”

#rafael barba #raul esparza #law and order svu #svu fanfiction #sonny carisi #olivia benson #mike dodds #a hard lesson series #Rafael Barba/OC #a hard lesson in vanity

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