#and she's more grounded and is like the sturdiest tree in the forest and her company is as refreshing as the feeling of human rain

[kraviolis]

where are all the 200k word post-day of unity fics where alador is going through a nasty and increasingly messy divorce and trying to help rebuild the boiling isles and also fixing his relationship with his kids but he's also struggling with having his own autonomy again and his own guilt over not being an actual father to his kids and he doesnt know who is outside of his responsibilities of work/family bcus he never had actual friends once he left school and once upon a time alador was the one to show darius there's more to life than what you can do for other people and now darius has the opportunity to help alador relearn the same thing and maybe together they can both rediscover what real love feels like again after years of bitterness

#krav talks #toh #aladarius #dalador #also alador is autistic and amity inherited it from him #and darius simultaneously figures out how to be a safe person for hunter again by slowly rebuilding the trust between him and alador #bcus hunter is also autistic but is more similar to alador on the spectrum than amity #and darius has to like. re-remember how to accommodate in those specific ways so he doesnt make alador OR hunter close themselves off again #but its not dadrius at first bcus hunter is staying with camila #OH ALSO it actually includes camila taking on an active role in her childrens' lives on the boiling isles #like she often goes to visit and becomes actual friends with the other adults in luz & hunter's lives #including darius. she and darius get along quite well. she is like a diluted form of luz's intense and raw Pure Goodness #and she's more grounded and is like the sturdiest tree in the forest and her company is as refreshing as the feeling of human rain #where luz is as bright and as intense as a roaring bonfire in the summer #camila is an ever-burning candle on a moonless night #she gives nothing but clarity and relief. she doesnt burn as bright as her daughter but that doesnt lessen the impact of her presence #sorry i love camila so much.

[randomwriteronline]

@cantankerouscanuck have at thee

It might seem hard to believe - or perhaps not so much; but between Kokiri and Skull Kids there tends to run bad blood.

There’s curiosity to spare on either side, and peaceful contact might be possible, by all means. But Skull Kids are shy and awfully mischievous, and a bit too scared of what isn’t their own kin: so they lash out in pranks, in meanspirited jabs and attacks; as such the Kokiri, scared and angered, avoid them as much as they can, hiding away in their own forest.

But it is easy to suppose that most children of the Deku tree miss something crucial, in order to get to know these undead souls.

A healthy amount of morbid fascination.

Fado, blond haired and pretty eyed and fair skinned, who loved to hide around the Lost Woods to spy on unfortunate travelers as the flesh corroded upon their bones as they turned into Stalfos, was the best candidate for the otherwise unwanted role of ambassador.

The Skull Kid she met properly was alone.

Or not quite as alone, seeing the two fairies floating around him.

He’d hidden away from her immediately, disappearing into thin air, but it hadn’t taken long before she’d charmed him back on his tree stump with gruesome anecdotes of despairing adults and ghost stories that made Mido anxious to get his hands back on his sword just to feel a little safer for the night.

They became fast friends; which was perhaps one of the worst things that could have befallen anyone living in or passing through the Lost Woods.

 This particular traveler came from outside of Hyrule.

She was a bony woman, barely more than a girl, who’d heard grandiose tales of immensurable powers and riches and fame being granted to those who would find and remove a fabled Blade of Evil’s Bane from its resting place deep within the dark, cursed forest. She wasn’t planning on pulling it out of it, goodness no - that sort of artifact never allowed such an easy victory. She would have simply unhearted it! With her work hammer that could shatter rocks and a spade that could dig through the sturdiest ground, she would have taken the smart way out, and gotten audience with the royal family, and been acclaimed as a hero.

Already she could hear the trumpets, taste the feast in her honor... She grinned, awaiting her inevitable triumph.

And so, under gazes of blue and amber, she made her way into the Woods.

She’d passed a few meadows when she met a little girl all dressed in green, who looked her up and down with a knowing, wiseacre smile that made the woman’s hands itch to teach her a lesson.

“What’s a girlie like you doing here?” she asked the child, strong of her wits, her recently reached maturity, and her predestined fame: “Shouldn’t you be home? This place is too dangerous for a little kid, you know.”

“I’m waiting to see how it goes,” replied Fado.

“How what goes?”

“This,” the Kokiri answered again, cryptically; then she grinned wider, and asked, with a look that was begging to be slapped off her face: “And what’s a girlie like you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home? This place is too dangerous for a little kid, you know.”

Oh, how the traveler’s face reddened with rage!

“I’ll have you know I’m here to claim the Blade of Evil’s Bane!” she unwisely shrieked back. “And that I’m not a little kid!”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m far too clever to be a tavern maid and far too strong to be a simple farmer!” she replied. “I’m worthy of that sword! And if it doesn’t think I am, then I’ll just have to convince it!”

Fado only smiled and placed her head in her small fair hands: “We’ll see,” she only said; and the traveler left angered beyond belief.

The young woman walked and walked, passing through meadow after meadow, until she almost convinced herself she was lost. But right then, she saw a bright yellow light dancing with a reddish purple one, seeming to beckon her in a certain direction: that must have been a trap! So, proud of herself for having figured it out so quickly, she ran in the opposite direction, and ended up before a small creek.

Fado waved at her from the other side; the travelers’s mood immediately turned sour once more.

“Haven’t I told you to go home?” she hissed angrily.

“You shouldn’t go around alone,” Fado said, ignoring her words.

“I can fend for myself!”

“But can you find your way back without a fairy?”

“Of course I can!”

“Can you?”

“I told you I can!”

“Are you sure you won’t turn into a Stalfos?”

“What nonsense! You’re so young and ignorant. Only the dead turn into Stalfos.”

“So you think you’ll be alive by the end?”

Her words struck the woman with a sudden unease. However, unwilling to be intimdated by some child, she turned her discomfort into even more anger.

“Of course I will!” she shouted as she stomped her foot: “And I know the way back perfectly! In fact, I’ll show you right now!”

With that, she turned to the hollow tree she’d walked through, and returned to the meadow where she’d almost been duped by the two lights into stepping right into their trap.

But once she actually arrived there, it wasn’t the same meadow anymore.

How could that be possible? She retraced her steps back to the creek, but again she found herself in a completely different place.

What devilish illusion was this?

She walked back and forth a couple more times, and over and over she ended up in a clearing or meadow that wasn’t the one she’d come from. She couldn’t make heads or tails of this atrocious mystery, and together with the little girl’s words it stirred in her a horrid antsy fear that stuck her right where she was.

Perhaps she should have asked about the forest’s curse in more detail.

A tinkering laugh made her turn around fulmineously, hand on her hammer to strike any incoming threat; instead, the dancing lights had appeared again.

She squinted a little, thinking perhaps the glimmering around them was a trick of the lighting - but no, no, it was... Wings! Fairies! That weird little brat had mentioned they could help her navigate her way through! She was safe!

Of course, when she ran towards them stomping her feet all over the place like a troglodyte, Tatl and Tael zipped away deeper into the Woods.

The children, hidden between the foliage of the treetops, followed her with their gazes as she carelessly chased the poor things all across the forest, bony sweaty hands outstreatched to greedily squeeze the fairies within them as the kids shamelessly laughed at her as she jumped and jolted at every single thing that seemed to move or make a noise anywhere even just vaguely near her.

But they grew bored of watching her soon enough.

The exhausted woman watched the lights disappear before her very eyes as soon as she entered a small, worthless clearing with only a pair of dead tree stumps and nothing more.

Immediately, she made herself very still: she couldn’t take chances now that she knew how this blasted place worked - or at least, now that she thought as much.

Certainly, those fairies would have returned sooner or later, right? Or maybe a few of their friends would have showed up... Maybe she could have bribed them with something, something... Maybe with the glint of a rupee, or a piece of wood disguised as a pastry...

Something stung her, and she slapped the back of her neck so hard that she felt it sting her hand as well. Damned bugs.

Then it stung her again.

And again and again and again, and the more she tried to catch that viscid little pest by smacking herself over and over the more her hands hurt and the more it kept stinging her, accompanied by a chilling tinkering laugh that she could almost swear she’d heard as she ran through the Woods.

She stopped only at a sudden wetness as she hit her arm; looking at her hand, she found it to her horror to be covered in thin needles, blood trickling in big ruby drops down her palm.

The laugh rang out again. She turned fulmineously, grasping her hammer tight without grace nor the necessary strength to wield it properly in battle: a bird-like face put its beak to what looked like a flute and another projectile lodged itself in her eye, making her shriek and stumble, half blind.

Something caught her fall, something soft, like fresh grass and moss and gentle leaves, like flower petals and mushroom flaps.

Then she screamed and screamed and screamed and then there was silence.

A booming, gentle voice traveled through the Woods.

“Fado...” the Great Deku Tree called to his child: “Cease eating that body... Right this instant..."

“But Dad!” Fado whined as loud as she could through a bloodied mouthful of  various visceras, while Skull Kid briefly stopped tearing through the harsh lean flesh to snicker at her pout from his ivory tower of I-Have-No-Nagging-Parents.

“You don’t know where it’s been...!”

The Kokiri huffed and sourly handed her share of mid-morning snack over to her friend and his companions, who ate it right out of her hand like a pair of trusting glowing bunnies and one very messed up wooden horse.

“Your fairy isn’t here,” noted Tael.

He wanted to share a piece of his portion with her, to be nice, even though all of them knew very well that unlike her Kokiri she did not enjoy neither the taste nor the sight of corpses.

“I bet she’s the one who told on you,” Skull Kid laughed as he chewed with his mouth open, spitting blood and pieces of meat.

She crossed her arms: “Of course she did,” she grumbled. “She never lets me have any fun!”

“As soon as she’s back, we should throw sticks at her!” Tatl proposed.

The poor thing, who had just rushed back to the clearing with the vain hope that her absence wouldn’t have been noticed, shrieked back with great alarm: “You should not!”

#tloz #the legend of zelda #skullkid #Skull kid #fado #tael #tatl #murder tw #necrophagy tw #death tw #blood tw #random writing #two fucked up kids pull a prank (gone snacktime) (aka wrong)

[lady--ohmori]

Magdalene’s fingers shook, clenching onto her stomach as a jolt of pain shot her upright.

Quickening within her, the life within began to shift. Moving down into her navel, Magdalene knew now was the time. She had no idea what to do. She didn’t live the life of a mother. All that could come to mind was the story of a divinely born boy, and how his mother birthed him in the woods with naught but a tree.

What did she do? The vague memories of Ionian history flashing between the hot streaks of lightning in her abdomen as the child began to spread her opening. Images of the painted scrolls she reviewed in her studies granting her the only wisdom she could be provided.

Grasping the sturdiest branches she could reach, she slowly postured herself to what felt best.

Searing hot agony caused her legs to shake, a low cry of pain rattled through the forest as she pressed the life out. Hot blood and fluids trickled down her leg as she opened even further. Dark red droplets splattered softly onto the ground as Magdalene squeezed once more.

The creature within, squirming, slowly began to peel away from her.

Fingernails clawing into the bark of the branches, moments passed in wretched slowness.

Bowing her head, she whimpered and kept pushing. Gasping between pushes, sweat collected on her temple. Why...? Why did life choose to do this to her?

After everything, after every fucking thing... she now had to deal with this pain...? Biting her lip, gathering whatever energy she could for another breath and push, Magdalene could taste the bitter iron of blood pooling in her mouth from the broken skin

Blowing hot air over the ripped skin of her bleeding lip, the scalding heat of her birthing came to a crescendo. Splattering blood and delivery mucus flooded down her leg. An agonized cry of delivery as a heavy sac dropped out of her split person and hit the muddy padding of the forest floor beneath her

Hanging weakly, empty and depleted, Magdalene saw for one moment the creature that was inside of her. Encircled in a thin membrane, pale skin and dark strands gracing a wrinkled body. Writhing within, hands pressed to the sac. Muffled cries escaping their freshly formed body behind the veil.

Looking at the creature struggling within, She was reminded of all the pain that had brought her to this moment. She should hate that thing. A dark vein of thought surfaced. She watched as it struggled within the sac, desperately clawing for life and freedom. This could all be over, she thought. That child was the thesis of the trauma and neglect she had bore under the prison of the vulture vastaya’s watch. She could let it die, and her relation to his legacy along with it. She would be able to triumph over this creature in the only way she could.

It had taken everything from her. Her home, her comfort, her family. It came to steal, kill, and destroy her.

Slumping to her knees, Magdalene watched the small life teeter within the egg. It’s struggle was weakening visibly. Weaker bumps on the stubborn encasing, coated in a slimy veil of viscera, the flicker of life within slowly fading. Dark eyes opening, the child turned to her.

Eyes opening, a small trickle of tears shaking their way to the surface. A small whisper of feeling quivered in her soul.

She couldn’t.

Fingers digging into the thick bubble surrounding the child, Magdalene quickly dug into the skin of the egg and tore it away. Feverishly, she reached in and grasped the child. Smearing away the viscous life fluid, cradling the small and wrinkled body in her arms. Magdalene wept, holding the child close.

The child was innocent. She... she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Hot tears dropped down her face as she held the newborn.

After a life of being treated like an unwanted, always left to die, and feeling tolerated over being loved, she just couldn’t bring it in herself to stamp out a life that had a fresh start.

Fatigue caught up to her, wet tears fading her vision, as she slowly collapsed into the forest bed. Child wailing in her limp arms.

#storyline #tw: dark topic #happy heartseekers

[bonjour-rainycity]

A Firefighter in Shining...Denim?

**Originally posted on ff.net**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor am I making any money from this story. 

Summary: Human AU. Alice gets stuck in a tree while trying to rescue her cat from the woods. Thankfully, a certain firefighter just happens to be trying to meditate nearby. Hopefully, he can lend a hand. 

Pairing: Alice x Jasper

Word count: 1275

Rating: K

Warnings: None

“Oh, no you don’t. Lou, come back here!” Begging her to understand me although I know she can’t, I chase my aging cat Louise out of the backyard from which she has escaped. 

“Louise, please!” Heedless of my pleads, she darts across the road. I follow and nearly collide with a banged-up vehicle. The driver skids to a stop whilst shouting profanities that I do my best to ignore. I shoot a “sorry!” over my shoulder and continue the chase. 

At a height of 4’10, my legs can’t be expected to be that long, and Louise has the distinct advantage of having four of them. She uses her speed and agility to disappear into the one of nearby forests of Forks. Knowing my search just became a thousand times more difficult, I groan. I take a deep breath, jog a few more paces into the forest, and look around. Growing up hunting and fishing with my family has taught me a few things about tracking, and it’s this knowledge (coupled with the quite obvious paw-prints in the mud) that leads me on a journey through the woods.

I follow the trail at a gym-teacher’s pace, doing my best to pay attention to my surroundings. After about 20 minutes, the trail goes cold. Frustrated, I lean up against a tree and think about what I’ll have to tell my little brother. In my head I see the tears he’ll try hard to hide. He’ll be so sad. 

“Mew.”

My head snaps up. 

“Meow.”

There it is again! I step away from the tree and spin in circles. Finally, I spot her, high up in a lush tree. Crap.

I pace as my mind works out the problem I’m facing. On one hand, poor Edward will be devastated when he finds out Louise is gone; on the other, I don’t very much like heights. It’s the image of Edward’s tear-stained face that finally motivates me to throw off my blazer and hop for the lowest branch. Four tries later, I’ve jumped and pulled my way up, about five and a half feet off the ground. 

“Okay, good,” I sigh to myself. Gulping, I reach for the next branch and pull myself up. Then the next. And the next. The next. I keep going until I’m a good thirty feet off the ground and Louise is just out of arm’s reach to my right. “Louise,” I huff. In order to reach her, I’m going to have to stretch. I secure my hand as best as I can around the sturdiest branch closest to me and slowly walk along it to place me closer to Louise. I reach my arm out and continue stretching as far as I can. Almost there…

Crack!

I scream as I fall through the branches. Sticks and leaves scrape my body during my downward tumble. A cluster of branches halts my descent about ten feet down from my previous location. The noise evidently scared Louise, who has now jumped like a squirrel from this tree to the one next to it. Ugh. 

“Ow,” I pout, looking over my now slightly-bleeding skin. There goes my Ralph Lauren blouse. Just as I’m wondering how the heck I’m going to safely untangle myself from this mess, I hear footsteps approaching quickly. Great. Someone to observe my extraordinary embarrassment.

A deep voice with southern drawl travels up to where I am caught in the tree. “Is someone up there?” 

I briefly consider not answering so I can save my pride, but I reason that I would most likely seriously injure myself if I tried extract myself and capture Louise. I sigh, resigned. 

“Yes, hello!” I try to sound as though I’m not in pain, but the stinging is becoming quite obvious. 

“Are you hurt?” He’s noticed, then. 

“Not badly. Just some scratches, is all.” 

“Can you get yourself down, or do you need help?”

“Um,” I once again consider lying, but decide that is not in my best interest in the long-run. “I might need some help.”

“Comin’ up.” 

There’s some rustling, and I gasp and grab the branches around me tighter as they begin to shake in response to the second presence. 

“Well, look at you all tangled up.” His voice is lightly amused, much to my annoyance. “Might I ask what happened?”

I look up to answer and am met with the alluring combination of honey blond hair and brown eyes. I smile, annoyance fading quickly. “Hello.”

He gives a crooked smile in return. “Hello.” There’s a pause as I take in the sight in front of me. I should be wary--he’s a stranger, after all, but I feel strangely at peace. Safe, even. I remember his question. “Oh, I was trying to catch my cat, Louise. She escaped from my house and made a run for freedom.”

He chuckles, and it’s a lovely sound, like a bubbling spring. “If she’s still around, I can probably catch her after we get you safe on the ground.”

I nod and follow his instructions on how to untangle myself. The branches are unsteady and shake, which is frightening, but he keeps his hands on my forearms the whole time and I know he won’t let me fall. In just a few minutes I’m standing on the branch beside him, which bows a little under our combined weight. We make our way down the tree slowly, him descending a branch or two and then reaching his arms up to guide me down to meet him. Finally, we’re on the ground. 

He heaves a breath, clapping his hands together. “Where’s the cat?”

I point to the tree next to us. He nods and scales it at three times the rate we descended the tree. There’s a yowl, a grunt, and man and cat drop down to the ground beside me. 

“Louise, you bad cat!” I chastise her when I see the shining scratch across the man’s cheek. 

He smiles easily. “Don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job.”

“So you frequently rescue cats from trees, then?”

“I’m a firefighter so, yes, it does take up a significant portion of my time.” He smiles almost bashfully, looking at the ground before meeting my eyes once again. “Meeting beautiful women thirty feet up, however, that might just be a one-time thing.” 

I smile up at him even as a blush takes over my cheeks. “I’m Alice Brandon.”

“Jasper Whitlock, ma’am.” His southern drawl is once again evident, and my smile grows. 

“What brought you to this neck of the woods today? If I may, that’s not quite a firefighter’s uniform.” I chuckle as I take in his outfit: Denim jeans, hiking boots, and a dark gray long-sleeved tee. 

He snorts. “I was attempting to meditate. The high pitched scream kind of ruined it for me, but I’m pleased with the exchange.”

A comfortable silence passes as we stare at each other and grin. A disgruntled hiss from Louise interrupts us. 

“My dad’s a doctor and should be home any minute if you want to get those scratches cleaned up. House is about a mile and a half that way.” He points west. 

I know I shouldn’t follow a stranger to his home, but I feel perfectly comfortable with Jasper and I somehow know he isn’t a danger to me. 

“Sure! What will we do with Louise?”

He scrunches his eyebrows in an adorable display of confusion. “She can have the run of the laundry room? I have a dog who’s never met a cat, but I’ll be sure Louise is safe.”

“Wonderful.”

On a whim, I slip my hands through his and we begin the walk to his home.

A/n Just something cute I would add to my Tumblr page! 

xx, 

Bjr

Permanent tag list: @puer-de-infinitate

#Jasper x alice #jalice #jalice fanfiction #jasper x alice fanfiction #twilight renaissance #jasper whitlock #alice cullen #jasper cullen #jasper hale #alice brandon

[askpokemoncrossover]

Torrent of Battle

The surrounding bird pokemon flew away from the action that’s taking place in the forest. The trees and ground trembles with each colliding blow we exchange. The battle between Me and Suisei against Anastasia was far from over. Despite Anastasia’s best efforts to hold back against me by being on the defensive with her arms guarding her chest and face, I’m making no progress… not one clean at all. She made a rule earlier on that I was supposed to fight with everything I have WITHOUT mega-evolving. It’s quite the handicap Anastasia put on me and on herself. My head was still throbbing from Anastasia’s punishing blows, so my movements aren’t what they used to be… “Sai! You have to focus!!” Sui’s voice echoed through my head as my opponent’s right foot hit me square in the gut making me, gasping for air. Before her left foot followed up, I felt Suisei’s power flowing through me and the next thing I knew was being enveloped by a thin silver-white protective aura. “HA!!” Anastasia yelled and her left foot hit me hard in the same place, but the impact was softened by Suisei’s ability. Despite the attack being cushioned, it still damaged me. “Ugh…” I groaned and my new protective power faded away, letting me know this technique Sui made is not complete yet. I saw Anastasia ready to throw another kick at my gut before my fighting reflexes kicked in and I backflipped, dodging the third kick. Anastasia gave chase as I continually backflipped to a nearby tree.

After grabbing hold on to the lowest sturdiest branch, I used the movement speed of my backflips to swing on the branch in a forward motion. I saw that Anastasia was a few inches away before my swing made my right foot went extremely close to her face. She dropped to her knees to dodge and because of her speed, she was sliding against the ground as my body swung upward before I Intentionally let go, making me fly upward fifteen feet. ‘Such toughness… he’s adapted to use the surrounding area as well!’ I heard her thought to herself using my telepathic skills. ‘Gone?! Where’d he go?’ I was already falling back to the ground at full speed with an Aura Sphere ready. At the last second, Anastasia looked up and saw me rapidly heading toward her with my attack aimed at her head. Instinctively, she jumped backward before my attack hit home making the Aura Sphere hit the ground before exploding. When the smoke cleared, the right sleeve of my jumpsuit was tattered thanks to the backlash of the technique but my glove remained undamaged.

‘Also quick to follow up, huh? I like that.’ Anastasia’s thoughts echoed through my head before I walked out of the miniature crater I recently made. The bug woman entered into her defensive position while I entered my fighting stance, we exchanged a couple more blows and parrys before it happened: I blocked her right arm with my left before my right fist hit her, square in the right cheek. She stumbled backward, touched her cheek before chuckling. “Congratulations, young wolf. you’re the first boy that’s managed to hurt me.” Anastasia said before sitting down on the nearest log, letting me know that our first match has come to a close. But… “H-hey!! I told you what my name was--!!” I started to say before a yellow sphere grazed my cheek, destroying the nearest tree. “You’ll earn your name when you become a man.” Anastasia sternly told me with smoke coming out of her outstretched right hand. “Y-yes…” I groaned before I leaned my back against the tree behind me.

I looked around before feeling several unfamiliar auras and I can feel eyes on me like a predator looking at its prey. “Hey, Anastasia? Looks like our fight attracted some pokemon…” I told her before crossing my arms. “Interesting, well… they can watch our fight after we have a little breather.” Anastasia said before she took out the bag of jewels she hid and started examining her findings. I looked at my comet shard glove on my right hand and thought about that protective aura from before and asked myself: ”Is it possible for me to obtain a new form of power if I can hone Sentinel’s power a bit more?”

Anastasia and Saisei are having a break. Do you dare approach these two?

#Ask call #Ark 1 chapter 7 #Saisei #Anastasia #Lucario #pheromosa #Forest

[obsidiancorner]

Snow White and the Sins of a Werewolf- Chapter 1

ObiYuki Bingo ‘19

Werewolf AU

Word Count: ~2700

Please note: There is mild gore in about two paragraphs involving the death of an animal’s prey. Please, read responsibly. 

Obi snarls as he rips out of the old manor house, door slamming shut behind him as his clawed feet splash through the muck left behind by yesterday’s storm. He needs time away from the slowly decaying home he and Torou saved from abandonment- time away from her nagging him about the curse that plagues every minute of their pathetic, only-now repentant lives. 

A flurry of branches moving forcefully overhead tells him that blighted Abyssinian cat he calls his best friend is following him. Stupid woman never did learn to leave well-enough alone. “This argument is over,” he sneers at the streak of sepia fur flying above him. 

The only chance of keeping pace with him available to her is flying through the trees. Ironic... In their days as humans, he had always been the one to be at home among the dense cover of the canopy foliage. Now, he’s too large for anything but the lowest branches of the sturdiest trees and she gets to enjoy his most beloved freedom.

“It is not. Not until you listen to me,” her seemingly disembodied voice counters. “I know you’re losing hope but we need to do something about this curse before it becomes permanent.”

Since when had she become the voice of reason? 

“You think I’m not painfully aware of that,” Obi roars at the general vicinity of where he had last heard the clacking of branches as he pulls himself to a stop. 

Sable eyes, round with empathy, blink back at him as she sits down in front of him on a branch at his eye level. “I know it hurts, Obi. I’m not happy either.” She inches closer to him, testing the depths of his ire knowing if she pushed too far… If he were to lash out, one swipe of his clawed, inhuman hand would kill her.

The curse has softened her over time- has taught her how to feel again. She, as a cat, is more human now than she ever had been as a human woman. He, on the other hand, has become more animalistic. He relies on little more than instinct. Self preservation is at the top of the list.

Two paws press against the thick black fur of his shoulder. “Obi, you’re beginning to lose yourself to this curse,” she pleads. 

He growls, wrinkling up his muzzle to bare his teeth but she holds his gaze firmly, ignoring his warning. “What’s your problem today? Can’t you just leave me alone for an hour or so?”  

He slows his breathing and quiets himself, an echo of the training he once utilized as the lethal shadow of an assassin he used to be. He hasn’t lost all of himself. He won’t hurt her, not yet anyway... but he can bluff.

Torou tilts her head, pensive and observant. She sits unmoving for an extended minute before breaking his gaze to look at the path ahead as her features melt into sorrow and regret. “I don’t want to be a cat forever.” 

A harsh laugh, bordering on condescending, rips out of him. He hates this. He hates how bitter and angry he has become but he is powerless to stop it. Hope had grown weary and fled from him years ago. Now, they have less than a year to find a way to fix it before they spend the rest of their days imprisoned in a hell more torturous than the fire and brimstone promised to the sinners they once were. 

“More importantly, Obi,” she continues, turning her piercing eyes back on him. “I don’t want to see you lose yourself entirely. I miss you. I want my little brother back.”

Light pierces through the blackness, clarity cutting through the pitch black storm  in his mind. His heart squeezes painfully before softening.  If he were to be honest with himself, he misses her too when he is adrift on the surging sea of base compulsions. Before he can respond in anything resembling affection, a raven crows and a wolf bellows off in the distance. 

The moment is shattered. 

The wispy tendrils of his humanity pull back as the werewolf inside regains control of its rightful body, spurred on by the promise of a real dinner. A wolf or two could feed them well for a few weeks. It is a much better haul than the usual rabbit or bird one of them can scrounge up on a hunt. 

The roar of the wind in his ears carries the whisper of Torou’s despairing sigh but he is already gone, racing toward the promise of a full belly. Behind him, tree branches resume their clatter as she follows 

He reaches an open clearing by himself, Torou’s short legs having been outpaced by his full strides within seconds of his departure. All the better, really. In her softened state, she has a distasteful tendency toward concern when he takes on other predatory animals. That’s stress he doesn’t need when concerned with pesky little details like feeding them both. His mouth waters.

Two wolves circle around a lumpy mass of blankets on the ground as they sniff, their frothing teeth snapping in anticipation of a hearty meal. He knows the feeling. 

If they could smell him, they’d already be defending their dinner.  If they had sensed a presence that would prove an immediate danger to both of them, they’d have fled. The have done neither.  They remain unaware of his intrusion, lost as they are in whatever it is in that pile of cloth.

He tucks himself into the tree line, pulling the abundant shadows against him. He centers his weight, legs drawing him lower to the ground as the muscles coil tight- springs ready to launch into action. True to the killer he was as a human, he waits for his shot. 

After a moment of silent study, one wolf wanders too close to the other.  Both predators face away from him, a circumstance that wouldn’t be problematic for them if he wasn’t there. But they aren’t the apex predator of this forest today. He is. 

In a flurry of movement, his limbs carrying him so much faster than he ever could as a simple man, he is upon them, never giving them the chance to look up. He flings one into a tree several feet away and the snap of bones breaking reverberates through the clearing. With his powerful jaws, he clamps down on the soft underside of the remaining wolf’s neck. He holds it steady six feet off the ground with both hands and waits. 

Slowly, the life drains from the pitiful beast as it suffocates under a crushed throat. A magnificent creature, feared by many, reduced to something as easy to target as the game it usually hunts. The thrashing stops and blood leaks down his jaw in a steady flow that pools on the wet forest floor. 

“Good catch, Obi,” Torou praises. “What’s that,” she asks, nodding toward the pile of blankets.

Obi drops the corpse and moves to the perimeter to check the broken wolf for any sign of life. There’s none. “More dinner, I guess,” he mutters as he piles the wolf carcasses across his broad shoulders. He ambles over to where Torou is sniffing at the mound. Holding the dinner splayed over the top of his back in place with one hand, he reaches down and yanks back the thick sheet of fabric. 

A slender frame in tattered clothing is exposed as a shock of red hair spills across the ground. A rattling breath of a groan escapes the unconscious woman but she gives no other sign of consciousness. 

One of her shoulders is exposed by a missing section of cloth and a gash mars the pale flesh there. A nasty bruise blooms an angry purple at her temple. Lucky for her, the rest of damage appears to just be rips in her clothes.

“Obi,” Torou breathes next to him, awed and heartbroken. Their time as animals really has softened her. 

“Well, that’s definitely not dinner,” he states, flat and distant. “Let’s go.” He turns on the ball of his foot, expecting that to be the final say in the matter, and begins the trek home.

“Obi.”

He groans and turns back. He should have known Torou better than to think she’d let him have the last say. “What, Torou?” He’s exasperated and hungry. Today has taken so much out of what little emotional capacity he has managed to retain. He can’t do this now. He just can’t.

“We can’t leave her.” Torou is firm in her conviction, leaving him no room to argue. But what happens when you corner an animal? They come out fighting. 

And he does just that, digging his heels in and gritting out a sharp “and what do you propose I do with her, huh? Carry her bridal style into the nearest town and pray to gods that don’t exist that the people there will feel charitable enough to not kill me on sight? Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“We take her home with us,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Anger burns through him, hotter than the breeze-less, humid summer air cooking him under his thick coat of fur. “Absolutely not. Where would we keep her? What would we feed her?”

Torou levels a flat look at him. Sounding bored with his lackluster arguments, she counters, "She's a woman, not a pet. We have plenty of spare rooms and if the wolf meat we now have available isn't good enough for her, you can go fetch a rabbit or some peafowl."

"Not happening." He turns his back on his feline companion again. 

“What if she is our only chance to break the curse,” she asks. She's quiet, pensive and hopeless.  

Stupid. He knows better than to present an easy target to someone as lethal as Torou and there it is. The knife in his back. He knows she has always hated being caught up in his curse. It’s his fault she’s stuck as a cat. If anyone deserves to be a human again, it’s Torou. For once in her life, she is the innocent caught in the middle.

But, still.

He can't help but push back against her reasoning. He's trapped and hurting, too, and self-preservation is one hell of a motivator. He prefers damnation over a chance of soul-crushing failure, so Obi scoffs, rolling his eyes to add an emphasis as he rotates at his chest to look at Torou . “Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

"Do you remember what the witch said?" She hasn't budged from the woman's side, determined to make him see reason.

"My name. Many, many times over," he jokes with no humor. He is pointedly ignoring the unconscious woman's body. He is. He’s not watching the shallow but steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. He’s not watching the the way her breath moves her hair almost imperceptibly. 

"Cute. Very cute," she drawls. "I meant what she said when she cursed you… and me by proximity. Not what she said before you found out you had buried yourself too deep in a woman you should have left alone."

"I wonder," he snaps sardonically, wielding his once-favorite enigmatic retort as lethally as the knives he misses so much. 

"She said you needed to let others in. The reason we are cursed is because she loved you and you pushed her away."

Obi is a master at hiding his emotions but his wince at her words is unstoppable. His fault in Torou's inclusion in the curse laid bare in front of him is more painful than any punishment ever dealt to him by former employers.

They were friends when it had happened. They both kept each other an arm's length away but it was miles closer than either had let anyone else get. It was that bond, however frail it had been back then, that had marked her as cursed when the spell was woven. 

They are much closer now but getting closer to each other isn't a condition of breaking the curse. It is Obi, specifically, who needs to learn to let others in, not Torou, who, for all her bristling, seems ready to take that leap. Heaven and stars above know she's been talking about it for a couple years now. 

Perhaps that's why the burden is his and his alone. Perhaps the witch had seen something in Torou that told her Torou would be the one to break the curse easier. Perhaps his friend actually had let him in all those years ago and that was what spared her. 

Or, perhaps it's as simple as he just scorned the wrong woman and Torou was nothing more than the primary perceived threat. 

"Obi," Torou says, lancing through the clouds of long thought hanging dismally over his head. "This is our chance."

She's right; he knows she is and he sighs, resigned to whatever fate may come of this. He walks over to where the woman lies and bends down to get a better look at her. Using one claw, he tucks her hair behind her ear making sure to not scratch her or touch the bruise. 

"Fine. You win," he says as he studies her. She's beautiful. Soft features marking her as just passed the age of majority but likely not yet even twenty. The eye he had uncovered by moving her hair peeks open, revealing brilliant emerald green and she fixates on Torou. 

Obi sucks in a breath, unnoticed by the questionably coherent woman, but Torou purrs and gently rubs her head against the woman’s cheek. She must take it as a sign that they are -well, at least the cat is- friend, not foe because she never looks away from Torou.

 A cooling burst of relief washes over him as the woman slips back into unconsciousness. That at least makes it easier to haul her back to the manor without incident. They’d have a hard time explaining a talking cat and a more-or-less friendly werewolf if she were to wake. 

He adjusts the wolves unceremoniously onto one shoulder before bending to scoop her up. He’s gentle with her. If that bruise on her head goes deeper than skin, too much jostling could hurt her more. When he finally comes to his full height, he takes the time to secure her head against his chest. 

Maybe he hasn’t lost his humanity just yet. But, then again... 

She's impossibly tiny in his arms, like a small child being held by an adult. Her pale skin clashes against the thick, matted black fur on his arms and he is reminded of what a true nightmare he is. It's a reminder he doesn’t need in that moment but there's little to be done for it. 

“I hope you’re happy,” he whispers to the smug looking cat on the ground. He steps over her easily as he makes his way out of the clearing.

"I am, thank you," Torou affirms, needing to lope beside him to keep up as they begin the journey home.  

There's nothing to like about this. No good can possibly come of it except maybe getting Torou off his back for a while... and that’s a big maybe.

The best case scenario is this mystery woman accepts the help and leaves as soon as she's able. Worst case scenario is he becomes a waking nightmare and constant source of fear for her. 

Obi looks skyward, sending a prayer to ‘those gods that don’t exist’ in hopes that she isn't traumatized by his existence. That's not a burden he cares to have on his soul. There are already so many.

"Don't thank me yet," he says, faking a laugh for Torou's benefit. From the look she gives him, she didn’t buy it. "You're the one who is going to be in charge of feeding her."

Torou's responding laugh as she launches herself into the trees turns his blood to ice. It's not cold, per se, but it is definitely conspiratorial.  

"Oh, sweet Obi,” she purrs, voice growing distant as she races ahead. “That's impossible. I’m not the one who still has opposable thumbs." 

Her laughter recedes, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the unearthly stillness that befalls a forest when danger stalks nearby. 

#obiyukibingo2019 #obiyuki #werewolf au #a loose retelling of beauty and the beast #in which obi is cursed to live as a werewolf who can't turn back into a human

[zaheela]

......WHY DID I THINK WINGS WERE A GOOD THING?!?!? SO MUCH WORK Anyways, This ideas been floating in my head for a while. Not sure how it’d work out, but let me have my little bouts of insanity.

“Ha, so now what. Isn’t it your duty to save the helpless, Red?” Mercury taunts, praying she falls for it. His leg crushed, wings always in poor shape. With the room collapsing, he has no way to escape and he’d be damned if he just died quietly. He recalls the early days, with her too wide eyes and ill-placed second guesses, though it also comes to mind what happened in Mistral, her own words declaring her intent to shut him up. It makes him wary, but she is his way out of a no win situation. “What?” She asks, as if offended. He laughs and motions to his leg. “You’re some hero right, well I’m not going to be able to get out of here on my own…’ His throat closes as she stands up straight and stares at him, lips pressed tight. He recalls Emerald’s illusions for Cinder, the weak pitiful, mewling thing, and he can’t help but think it is the furthest thing from the truth right before him. No, now he can see the strong leader, soul forged in fire, adventure, and agony, a woman whose seen too much and would be very willing to leave him here to die like a dog. Chills creep down his spine, because he can tell that mere words like innocent and delusional cannot be used with her anymore. She towers above him a look of pity on her face, before kneeling down and lifting one arm over her head and pulling him up. She doesn’t look back at him, too insignificant to be more then a foot note. “…Even though it is the right thing to do, don’t assume anything… Too many important, precious moments and people drive me forward. No matter how sad they make me feel, they’re a part of me now, and you don’t deserve to be on the same pedestal as them. You aren’t going to haunt my dreams. So get up, we’’re getting out of here, I have other things to do.” She shifted his weight a little, before taking a calming breath. “Don’t hold your breath and don’t bite you tongue.” Staring up at the patch of sky above, she crouched, and kept her hands steady.

Ruby’s Semblance encompassed all she touched. From an absurdly over-designed war scythe to the living muscle that was Nora, so long as she allowed herself to hold on, then it would be possible to carry them both out of the tower. Part of her wanted to leave him, it would not be the first death nor the last. She knew that she had killed others, inadvertently at least. She wasn’t as naive enough to think that the faunus in the tunnels had all survived back at Mountain Glenn. There was blood on her hands of strangers whom she didn't even know the faces of, but she knew his face, his voice, his sarcastic tone. It would linger in the back of her mind, like a buzzing fly; Yes there was always a chance this would backfire, but the risks were outweighed by the peace of mind. With only a second thought, she let her aura pass through and wrap up his cold void. Slowly, Ruby exhaled as she could feel her aura bubble up in her chest, and with a powerful flap of her wings, the world’s colors became dull.

Mercury couldn’t help but marvel as the world seemed to slow and the light fade as she leapt up the tall shaft, petals drifting around them lazily as if escorting her. Up, down, left, right, the direction didn’t matter anymore as she twisted and turned through the debris, sometimes moving so fast the pillars of wood seemed to curl around them instead of the logical other way around. Those small wings twitched and the one on his side pressed him closer as the once distant sky grew closer, and he could feel her aura grow thicker as she pushed her semblance further. The feeling of it dancing on his skin was both surprising and instinctively comforting. He would of honestly assumed it to be either too hot or cold, but it was warm. Like the sun on a perfect spring day, warming him to his core. Stomach turned, he grit his teeth as the sensation of life and comfort continued its embraced, until she broke through and reclaimed the sky, great wings snapping wide and they floated in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced down at where the airship he and the rest of his villainous band had arrived in was, only to find it missing. He shouldn’t of been too surprised, Tyrian would of naturally assumed him dead, dragging a weakly protesting Emerald away. It was more then he could expect; Salem’s will had done a fine job of corroding her will until she had been cowed into following orders when pressured, and Tyrian was a sadistic bastard. His own wings ached to glide on the breeze, but then the warmth shattered, ripped away as she landed. Dropping him, she moved away, placing several steps between him. Her back was turned, wings tucked against her back, and he could feel his rage simmer at her indifference. The scythe unfolded as she found what she was looking for and chopped a thick, sturdy birch branch from a tree. She tossed it at him, his own reflexes kicking in to catch it. “That should be good enough to make a peg leg. Do you carry a knife with you?” She asked, leaning against her weapon as if relaxed, but he could tell by her shoulders she was ready for him to make one wrong move. “Why would I need one of those?” He asked spitefully, though it occurred to him after the words left his mouth that any good survivalist would carry one. She gave him an oddly Schnee like roll of her eyes, huffing in annoyance as she reached under her skirt, the leather sheathe briefly flashing against a pale thigh, before she threw the small pocket knife at him. It was too small to do any noteworthy damage against any aura owner, but it was well cared for and sharp enough for him to hack away at the wood. Occasionally she twitched, lips pressing tight as if smothering a comment or suggestion, but remained quiet, thankfully. Rough substitute hacked out, he gave her a annoyed look, to which she motioned to him to throw the knife back. Once the tiny thing had been exchanged, she lifted her skirt, pulling the leather belt off her leg and pulling the case off its harness before tossing the sturdy leather his way. With a grunt, He tested the stability of the temporary limb. Not the sturdiest thing, but it’d do; A better alternative then hopping through a forest on one foot. Now the problem was the forest and whatever god forsaken creatures dwelled in it. Once they went their separate ways, he could hopefully use his scroll to notify the others of his survival or find a town to hide out in, but what if he was attacked before he…

The floor shook as if to flip him the bird. Ruby jumped as well and launched herself into the tree line, hugging the treetops as she scouted for the source of the noise. When she landed hard next to him, he could tell whatever she had seen was close and well aware of their presence. She said nothing for a moment, hand gripped tight on Crescent Rose, before taking a deep breath and moving forward, placing herself between him and whatever was moving towards them.

“If you are going to run, then do it when I attack. It’ll buy you time.” Her words were uncharacteristically uncaring and every warning bell in his head was screaming that it was a trap. She had no reason to think letting him go would be better then protecting him right? Besides, he wasn’t some helpless sap, he was a trained killer. Granted hobbled, but it wasn’t in him to go down quietly anyways. “Bullshit.” He grunted, leaning against a tree. Again, he was thrown for a loop because this time she turned her head, her expression one of pure dumbfounded confusion. She had clearly expected him to bolt, not stand his ground.

“Can you still fight?” She asked, biting a lip. Mercury could almost see the hamster wheel in her head kick into overdrive as the tree line started to him and the bellowing grunts of a giant Grimm grew closer. “Tch, not on this leg.” He snapped, dread twisting in his guts. Ruby shook her head as the red eyes peered through the trees. “Could you fight if I kept you in the air?” She clarified, taking a step back as the final few trees splintered, the gaping maw of what could only be a mutated turtle crossed with something else opened. The beast lumbered forward, screeching in pain. “What? …Well yeah, but My wings aren’t exactly flight worthy.” “Hrmph, It’s obvious you need to someone to teach you proper wing preening and maintenance, but I think I can handle all the hard work. Just keep gliding and looking pretty and I’ll deal with the hard parts. Just so you know, we’re not aiming to kill it, just outrun it. Unless my friends arrive, we can’t take it down.” There was something in her tone that made him think that she was hiding something else, but now wasn’t the time to question it and focus on not getting eaten, crushed, or any other horrific death, “Awww, someone things I’m Pretty do they?” “… That’s not exactly a compliment for a guy you know….” “Whatever, let’s just get this over with and go back to passive aggressively insulting each other.” “Heh, well then, Mercury, shall we dance?” She gave him a strained smile before shifting her grip on Crescent Rose and held out one hand in invitation.

#RWBY #Ruby Rose #Mercury Black #Winged!AU #Avian!AU #RWBY Quicksliver #Kinda anyways Im pretty sure in this case its more of a mutual I dont want to die truce #I think my brain says that Ruby's friends do come and hes taken prisoner #Mostly because then I get to draw him as a grumpy bird whose being taught how to take care of his own wings

[windskull]

The Heart of a Hero: Chapter 5

For links to the entir efic, check the links on my tumblr

Chapter 5: Skeletons, Masks, and other Goodies"Wait!"

But the drawbridge did not wait. As Link raced in forward in vain hopes of jumping and making it in time, he had to skid to a stop, teetering dangerously at the edge, threatening to topple over into the moat below.

Navi looped around to the front of him and gave him just the slightest of pushes to bring him back to stable ground. He fell back with a thump, and the drawbridge rumbled to a stop in front of him.

He let out a sigh, then glanced back to the sun as it slowly dipped below the horizon, the sky a blazing orange. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of a wolf. Or a wolfos. It did not matter either way; it was not safe here in the open.

He climbed back to his feet and, keeping low to the ground, began to make his way around the edge of the town walls, hoping in vain that there might be some sort of way he could get in. Not even teleportation magic could help him here, even if he was skilled enough to use it - he would have had to have a clear vision of the area he was trying to warp to.

His search for an entrance was quickly proving fruitless, and as the sky turned to night, a spike of uneasiness edged in his stomach. Or maybe it was hunger, or both.

Up ahead he spotted a small tree. It wasn't the sturdiest one he'd ever seen, a dwarf in comparison to the great trunks of the trees in the Lost Woods. But never the less, it was large enough that he could climb up and rest in it for a while. He took off towards it at a trot, continuing to stay low to the ground.

As soon as he was close enough, he sprang up, grabbing hold of the lowest sturdy branch, and swung himself higher to a thicker branch that he could sit on. It was not an ideal resting spot, but it would work.

He sat with his back to the trunk and reached down into the sack he had brought along in search of food. He had not been able to pack much: a few berries for today and some nuts were all he could carry. Most of his foods would have spoiled quickly during travel. He would have to see if he could get ahold of something more filling in the town tomorrow.

Picking a particularly juicy looking berry, he tossed it into the air, popping it into his mouth with a snap. As he continued to chew on the succulent fruits, he glanced up to the rising moon. It had taken him only a day to get here, but still it already felt like he'd been gone from the forest forever. Already he was missing playing music with Skull Kid in the moonlight or playing tag with other skull kids in the dark. He even missed sneaking into the Kokiri Forest in search of abandoned rupees and knickknacks (and sometimes not-so abandoned treasures, if he was honest with himself. But hey, he can say with pride that he never attacked someone to take their valuables, so that's something!)

He glanced down and rolled around one of the berries in between his fingers, wondering if he could find the forests delicacies out here in the big open world. He did not like this "Hyrule Field." It was not like the forest, with hiding places everywhere. Instead, he felt open and exposed, visible to everyone who wanted or did not want to see him.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sounds of dirt shuffling below him, rattling coming from within. A rattling not unlike his kind's own. Cautious, he glanced down. A skeletal hand had broken the surface, a second one widening the hole close behind. A head poked out of the ground; a skull, more specifically. The rest of the body came rolling after, reassembling itself once each part reached the surface. For the most part it was humanoid, but the creature's face jutted out far more than a human skull would, looking a bit more canine in appearance. Several other bodies seemed to be coming to the surface further out, shambling about the field. He wondered if perhaps this was part of why the town's gates were closed.

"Navi, what is that?" Link whispered to the fairy peeking out from under his cap.

"They're stallchildren," Navi explained in a hushed voice. "They're a species related to stalfos."

"Where do they come from?"

"Stalfos usually come from two places- adults lost in the woods, or people who died in battle. Stallchildren are… well… I don't know for sure. They could be anything from children to adult civilians that were killed in battle, possibly?"

Link was about to ask for more clarification, but his voice caught in his throat when he looked back down to the stallchild below them… who was staring right back up at him.

He blinked, his glowing blue orbs flickering out for just a split second, and the creature's red-orange orbs blinked back. Slowly, it raised a hand in greeting. He slowly waved back.

"I think it's friendly," Link whispered to his fairy.

"They're not known to be friendly or kind to humans, or most living species in general." she countered. And then something clicked in her mind. "But you're not really totally alive yourself, are you?"

Link tilted his head inquisitively, shrugging.

"Never mind, we'll talk about it some other time."

With his curiosity getting the better of him, Link slowly started to slide down from the tree, gripping hold of the branch until he was hanging from it so that he minimized his fall. He landed with a soft thump.

A couple more of the stallchildren had taken notice of him and had begun to hobble over curiously. As he tilted his head at the stallchild in front of him, it mirrored his movements. Once the other two had arrived, the three began to talk in hushed whispers.

"What is it? What is it?"

"Is… it is not human?"

"Is not like us? What is it?"

One of them - the largest one - hesitantly reached a bony hand out. Link took a couple steps back, but that only made it move faster. It took hold of his arm, ignoring his cry of surprise, and looked it over."

"Is wood, like tree!"

"Is tree?"

"Is a tree!"

"I'm not a tree!" Link countered, and when he spoke, the one gripping his arm recoiled suddenly.

"It spoke!"

"It speaks!"

"What is it, then?"

Navi, building up her courage, popped out from beneath Link's hat and fluttered in front of him defensively. "He is not a tree. He is a skull kid, from the Lost Woods!"

"Not tree!"

"A fairy!"

"Skull kid!"

His eyes drifted between the three of them, and he was starting to wonder if they had interacted with anyone outside of themselves.

Finally, the first one that had spotted him spoke up, finally addressing him directly. "You are skull kid from the forest… and… have fairy. Is a skull kid friendly?"

He considered the question for a moment, then nodded. "If you are friendly, I am. My name is Link."

"Link!"

"You look similar to a tree, but also similar to stallchild. Why?"

"Because he is similar to a stallchild," Navi explained. "He was lost in the forest when he was young, he became a skull kid, like you became a stallchild when you died."

"Me? I don't remember being not a stallchild!" The leader argued. The other two nodded in agreement, rattling.

"I don't remember not being a skull kid either," Link admitted. "All I remember is my name. And pain, and then being a skull kid. Everyone says I was not a skull kid before, but they don't know who I was."

The stallchildren seemed to think it over, then the leader nodded in acceptance. "Well, tonight, you are Friend!" It threw its hands up in the air, rattling its bones.

The other two threw their hands up in the air and said in unison, "Friend!" And before Link could say anything the three surrounded him, and began to walk in a circle around him, doing a funny little rattling dance.

But finally, the first one broke away from their dance.

"If friend is from the forest, why is friend so far from forest?" It asked.

Link pointed to the walls beyond the moat. "I'm trying to get inside to go see the princess."

The leader let out a tiny surprised noise, while the other two looked to each other and with whispers of "princess?"

Then the leader laughed. "Friend is funny! Humans not let monsters into town, unless monsters bring wares and good tidings for sale!"

The idea of being referred to as a monster made Link uncomfortable. He wasn't a monster, he was himself! But to a human… he would appear monstrous or as a spirit, with his wooden body and glowing eyes and pointy teeth, and the dark spirit energy that allowed his body to move.

On the topic of merchant monsters, Link could only guess that they meant the Deku Scrubs he occasionally saw peddling goods from their flowers. Sometimes, they would tell stories of great human towns if they were bored, for a few rupees of course.

"They won't let anyone in till morning," the leader continued, with agreeing echoes of "morning coming from the other two."

Link let out a sigh. He expected as much, but still, he would have liked to get in sooner. The night had just fallen, and with the stallchildren roaming the field, he felt like he'd have a hard time getting to sleep for some time.

"Would Friend like to play while he waits?"

"Friend play?"

"Can play with friend?"

Link considered the invitation for a moment. On one hand, he didn't want to tire himself out and have to sleep through part of the day. Then again, he would likely not have another chance to play with someone until he returned to the forest after this trip. Maybe it wouldn't hurt?

So finally, the skull kid nodded, earning cheers from the trio in front of him.

"Yay!"

"Come this way, this way!"

Link followed as the group of stallchildren hobbled off. Their skeletal joints, though magically animated, did not seem to give them the same speed that he had.

Hours began to whittle away as the group began to play. Hide and seek was not a possibility in the wide-open spaces. But tag seemed to be a favorite. Playing catch with rocks also seemed to amuse the stallchilderen. Even if they got hit and fell apart, their body would just reassemble itself a moment later, and it was back into the game.

What interested them more, however, was Link's flute, the odd shape in his pocket catching the attention of the lead stallchild.

"What is?" He asked, pointing to the shape.

"Oh, it's my flute," Link responded, reaching in to pull the object out.

"You can play music?"

When Link nodded, one of the other stallchildren called out, "Show us!"

So, link began to play, thoughtfully avoiding Saria's song among the tunes he picked out and made up, as something about it felt sacred and special to him, like it was a song he should only share in special cases. Before long, the group had broken into dance, three pale figures and one ashen one twisting and turning in the moonlight

Despite what he had thought would happen, the night seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Sure, he was a little drowsy at the end, but it had been worth it.

The larger stallchild was the first to notice the thin sliver of sunlight on the horrizon.

"Uh oh," he said.

Link turned his attention to the leader, then to the other two. They were all gazing to the sunrise now.

"Sun is coming."

"Time to go."

The trio began hobbling back to where they had first popped out of the ground, Link trailing after curiously.

"They are creatures of darkness, nocturnal," Navi explained as the first one reached its hole and began to disassemble. "They need to return to the soil by daybreak, both to conserve energy, and to protect themselves from travelers."

The bones began rolling back into the ground, first the legs and torso, then the head. The hands came last, pulling the dirt it had unearthed back over itself. The other two were doing similar. Before the sun could finally begin to rise above the horizon, the leader turned its head back to Link and gave a goodbye wave.

"Come back and play again sometime!" It called out. Then it too, was gone.

Link gave one last wave, then dropped his arms to his sides and found himself staring for a moment, until he heard a creaking behind him. The bridge was coming down; he remembered his quest.

Not wanting to waste another moment, he turned, and sprinted back towards the town gates.

***************

The first thing he noticed about the town was that even in the early morning hours, it was already becoming busy.

Nervous about how the humans - especially the adults, after his time speaking with the stallchildren - would react to him, Link made his way around the edge of the town square through the shadows, taking care not to let anyone lock gazes with him. Images of being surrounded by big, scary humans with fire crossed his mind, and he shivered involuntarily. That was just about the worst thing that could happen. At least, he hoped it was.

He was almost all the way across the center square when he slipped up.

He glanced towards where he could see the castle in the distance, then back towards the square to make sure he was not being followed. His eyes locked with someone.

She was a young girl, short, only about as tall as he himself was. Her skin was tanned, likely the result of being out in the sun a lot. Her clothes were rather plain, wearing work boots and a white dress that was only decorated by the blue trim at the bottom and along the sleeves. The only other article of clothing she wore was a yellow handkerchief tied around her neck in a knot. Otherwise she wore no gems or accessories, like many of the girls and women in the square were. Her hair was a bright, flaming orange, contrasting her otherwise fairly light appearance.

She let out a tiny gasp when she noticed him from across the square, and he froze. For a moment, he closed his eyes, hoping that doing so would make him appear invisible or innocent. But it made him feel exposed, unable to see if anyone was advancing. When he opened his eyes again, she was still staring, but had made no movement otherwise. He carefully began to creep forward again. Still no movement. Finally, not wanting to risk it any longer, he took off down the side of the road, making a dash to get out of the town before anyone else noticed him.

It was not long before he'd left the bulk of the town behind him. Two dirt and stone walls lead him forward as the distant castle grew closer and closer. Every few minutes, he glanced back to see if someone had spotted him and sounded some sort of alarm. Fortunately, he managed to get through without trouble for some time.

Eventually, the dirt path opened up into a clearing. At the top of the far side, he suspected there was a field, and beyond the field, the castle stood starkly against the morning sky. As he began to stalk into the open area, he heard a great flapping from a singular tree in front of him. The owl from before was back. Though this time, it did not stick around, instead electing to take off with just a single warning.

"Be careful not to be spotted by the guards!" The bird hooted, before taking off back in the direction of the town.

Link adjusted the strap of his scabbard nervously. He knew little about human culture, but he supposed that it would make sense they would guard something as grand as a castle. Mido did the same with the Deku Tree, after all. Sort of.

The boy rounded the corner, and already came to his first obstacle. Instead of a freely accessible path, the road was blocked by a huge stone gate, two bored guards staring ahead.

He slipped back around the corner, then peeked around the side again. They hadn't seemed to notice him from here. But walking forward would certainly end in being turned away at best.

As he sat down with his back to the stone and dirt wall to consider his options, Navi poked out from under his hat and began to flutter about. She flew around the corner herself first, then back down the other way.

"Link, over here!"

Link glanced up and over in the direction of the fairy's voice. She had stopped in front of a spot on the wall, hovering in place. As Link approached to get a better look, he noticed there was thick vine growth, leading all the way to the top of the wall. He could climb from here.

He took a moment to adjust his equipment, then, taking a hand hold of the vines, began to scale the plants. Just like in the Deku Tree. Just like at home. It was almost second nature, finding handholds and sturdy footing.

As he pulled himself over the top, he could finally get a better look out in front of him. As he suspected, past the gate the path continued, and across from him, a field separated him from the castle, which was also surrounded by a gate.. A path started from the top of the gate that blocked the road as well - which acted as a bridge between the side he was currently standing on, and the field.

He began to slowly creep towards the gate, but as he drew close, he realized that a guard blocked the path there too. He would continue further, but the cliff he was on came to an end where the bridge met. Perhaps he would have a better chance if he waited until night. But… that was so far away. No, he would continue his attempt, even if he did stick out in daylight like a sore thumb.

He came to a stop at the edge of the bridge. If the guard had noticed him yet, he did not react. Link glanced down the side of the path and saw, disheartened, that several other guards lined the cliff, looking down into the path below. Maybe the bird was wrong. Maybe if he just walked over to the guard, they'd let him through? He supposed it was worth a shot.

Slowly, tentatively, he approached the adult man, keeping himself low to the ground and hoping he appeared non-threatening. The man finally seemed to take notice of him as he crept closer, and moved to an offensive stance, holding his weapon, a long spear, out in front of him.

"You, monster child, what do you think you're doing here?"

Link immediately froze in place. Monster child? He had certainly been called some mean things before by frightened or angry Kokiri, or even some of the other intelligent forest dwellers like the Deku. Creepy, or an imp, mostly. But even if he had been warned, monster was just plain insulting.

"I- I was just-" He stammered, taking a step back in time as the guard stepped forward. "From… from the forest, to see the princess?"

His explanation did not cut it. The guard jabbed his spear towards the child threateningly.

"You're not welcome here. Begone, before I am forced to remove you."

"But I-"

"Link, go." Navi hissed from behind him. He took one more step back, and then not wanting to be pushed off the bridge or worse, just turned and jumped himself, falling off the side and landing with a roll. Springing back to his feet, he scampered around the corner and out of sight.

Once out of view, he leaned back against the stone and dirt wall and sank to the ground, hands over his knees. "That went well," he mumbled.

"Do you think they might move when it gets dark? Or at least later in the day?" Navi asked. "I hate to wait for so long, but maybe when they change shifts, it would give us a chance to sneak by?"

Link gave the fairy a nod and sighed, closing his eyes. Waiting could be so boring though, and it was only just barely morning! Then again, he had not slept the night before. Maybe it would not be a bad idea to get some rest.

He dug into one of his pouches, pulling out the remainder of the berries he had brought with him. That's right, he was going to look for more food, wasn't he? He glanced back to the town. He had a little money, if the rupee things that he had collected over the years were as valuable as Saria had claimed. Surely some poor shop keep would take pity on him and sell him something to eat, even if he wasn't human like them?

With something to do for the time being, he stood and began the walk back to the town square.

Link was quiet as they made the trek back to town, head turned down slightly. Navi fluttered along behind silently, for a time. But eventually, she broke the silence, concern tinting her voice.

"Link… are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Is this about the guard?" She asked.

No answer.

"Ah… I understand," She responded.

He slowed to a stop. Navi slowly landed on his shoulder. "I know it's awful, and awfully mean, but you do have to remember that the forest dwelling races don't leave very often, the only exception being the Deku Scrubs. They can't really be blamed for not knowing what you are."

"I guess…"

"Besides," she continued. "He's a guard. It's his job to turn people away." She paused for a moment, then nuzzled up against Link's cheek. "Now come on, let's find you some food. In fact, going into town may not be a bad idea. I'm sure there will be some people there at least that are more open-minded. Hylians aren't the only race in Hyrule, after all."

Link lifted his head, slightly cheered. With just a bit more pep in his step, he continued on back towards the town.

***************

 The town square was even busier by the time they returned. Merchant stalls had set up along the edges, most gathering large crowds of people out doing their morning shopping. Others milled about, some chatting, others just hurrying around. One man in particular seemed to circle about the area carrying a large bag upon his back, but never really interacted with anyone.

Link felt just a bit overwhelmed. Even in its busiest times, the Kokiri Forest wasn't nearly this crowded. He moved about in a sort of daze, trying to look over each stall in hopes of finding one he could get food from that he would not have to push past droves of adults to reach. But each one just seemed busier than the last.

Someone bumped into the small boy. He stumbled. Whoever it was did not even seem to notice. Before he caught his footing, another almost trampled him; he only just barely managed to scamper out of the way.

With an anxious cry, he retreated to the edges of the square, choosing to just watch the madness. It was too much for the small boy to handle right now. Hoping that he could return later, and it would be emptier, he turned his attention to the buildings along the edges of the square.

One particularly gaudy place caught his eye, with walls painted greed, and red and gold fabric draped along the sides. A huge, equally gaudy sign adorned the building above the entrance. With curiosity gripping him, Link approached.

"Happy… mask… shop…" Navi read slowly, as if in disbelief. "Link, please don't waste any money here, please? We don't know how expensive food and other necessities will be."

Link shrugged, then moved to open the door, stepping into the fanciful building.

The inside was even more fancy and extravagant than it had been outside. An ornate carpet greeted Link's dirt-covered boots. Above him hung stained glass orbs, torchlight shining from inside. Like outside, the inner walls were also draped with fabric.

But the real stars were the masks.

Shelves, filled with dozens of masks, line the wall on either side of Link. One was of a green monster, a blue band painted along the eyes. Another was of a horrifying human face.

"May I help you?"

Link startled, turning his attention to the counter at the end of the way. There stood a man, still as a statue, adorned in robes of royal purple and gold.

The boy slowly approached the counter, tilting his head curiously at the man. "Hiyee!" He started in far too cheerful of a tone. "Welcome to the Happy Mask Shop! We deal in masks that bring happiness to everyone!"

"Everyone?" Link asked, awed.

"Everyone?" Navi echoed skeptically.

"That's right!" The man responded. "Everyone! How would you like to be a happiness salesman?"

"Uh…"

"Allow me to explain. I'll lend you a mask. You sell the mask and bring the money back here. If you want to read the fine print, take a look at the sign right over there." He gestured to his right to a huge sign. "After you've sold all the masks, you will become happy yourself! Simple really, you see?"

"I mean-"

"Your masks will be filled with happiness, you just need to have faith… believe… believe…"

Link began to take a step back, feeling more than a bit creeped out. However, something caught the corner of his eye, and with a deep breath, he stepped forward again, hands on the counter.

"What if… What if I just wanted to purchase that one?" He pointed to the side of the man's head to a white mask, with carved holes and features similar to a skull. Not a human skull though, as it had horns that jutted out.

"Link, what did I just say outside," Navi protested.

"It's not for me," he countered. "It's for Skully. He loves masks! I know he'd just love that one."

"Ahem-" the salesman cut in. "I'm afraid I cannot sell you the mask. You see, these are for the business arrangement I mentioned. No, I cannot sell, it but I can lend it."

Link considered it for a moment. "Fine, fine, lend it to me."

"I can't do that either. First you have to sell this mask."

The man reached up to grab a different mask. This one was a bright yellow, with a brown nose, it's appearance similar to an animal. He placed the mask into Link's hands with a bit of force.

Link looked down to the mask in his hands, then to the salesman. Then to the skull mask. Back to the salesman. His grip on the mask tightened, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Link…"

Suddenly, he chucked the mask at the man's head with all the force he could muster. The man stumbled back from the surprising force of the blow and fell back, dazed.

Immediately, Link vaulted over the counter, jumping up to grab the skull mask.

"Link NO!" Navi called out.

He paused, looking at her, then paused only long enough to fish a couple of rupees - a blue and a green - and dropped them in the man's lap before vaulting back over and dashing out.

"See, I paid for it, technically not stealing!"

Navi let out a frustrated huff but followed behind anyways as he dashed out the door.

Once he had emerged out into the fresh air, Link took a moment to turn the mask over in his hands, admiring the handiwork.

Navi flew into his line of sight, buzzing close to his face. "Link," she started slowly, stressing her words out. "That was a horrible idea. Do not. Do. That. Again. Understand?"

The boy stared for a moment, then smiled and laughed, nodding. Despite his answer, Navi suspected he had not learned his lesson at all.

With a sigh, she turned her attention to the market stalls around them. They had begun to clear a little in the time Link had been gone. "Let's just hurry up and get you something to eat. And maybe a larger bag would be a good idea too… Huh?"

When she turned back to address him, Link was already gone. She whipped around, looking for any hint of ashy brown and green, finally spotting him all the way across the square.

He had stopped in front of a food stall, staring intently a bit of a ways away. Navi dashed over, bumping into him slightly to announce her presence.

"Hey!" she cried out in exasperation. "Don't just run off like that! Please!"

Link turned his head back to look at her, staring for a moment before raising an arm to point at the stand he was standing in front of. "I want some of that."

"That" happened to be a pastry stand, much of it already gone from the morning rush. But several items remained here and there.

Navi let out a sigh. She would have to give her lesson another time. "...Okay. Pick one."

"I want them all," he responded.

"Two. No more. You need money for other things too, you know."

He finally conceded, sighing with a nod. "Fiiiiine."

Navi approached the stand first, Link following close behind. The woman behind the counter had her back turned, busy wrapping more of the pastries for sale, humming a little tune.

"Excuse me," Navi said, loud enough to catch the woman's attention.

"Yes," the woman started, turning. "How may I help yooouUUUUOH MY GODDESSES!"

Link blinked at the woman, tilting his head curiously. Was… was she okay?

"My… goodness," she started, calming herself and trying to relieve some of the shock to save the encounter. "Aren't you a… unique little one. I've never seen someone like you around here."

Navi flew forward to make her presence known, before landing on Link's head. "He's with me, he saw your display and just had to get something."

"Oh…" She started, eyes on the fairy. "Of… of course! What would you like, little one?"

Link considered, beginning to look over his choices.

"Remember," Navi pointed out. "Two."

After some moments of deliberation, Link pointed first to a rectangular treat, then second to one with fruit folded into it. "These two… Please?"

"Of course!" The woman responded, reaching for a paper to wrap them in. "That will be… seven rupees, please."

Link reached into his money pouch, looking at the rupees inside quizzically. "... Navi, how much is seven?"

"You can give her a blue and two green ones, Link."

"Isn't that three?"

"The blue one is worth five."

The boy nodded enthusiastically and fished for the change, pulling them out and placing them on the counter. The woman slowly and carefully handed him his pastries in return, eyes on his rough wooden hands.

The boy flashed a toothy grin, then turned to hurry off, Navi fluttering behind. "Thank you!" She called out to the woman before turning her attention to Link.

"Okay, how many rupees do you have in there? Next, a bag."

***************

Even after all the time he spent in the village square, it was only barely after noon when the skull kid found himself wandering back towards the castle.

His new bag was filled with odd delicacies that the forest had never offered. Breads and pastries and all sorts of sweets, dried meats and loose grains all were wrapped up inside. He'd even managed to trade the small pouch he had been using to store slingshot ammo for a larger one. At least someone in this Castle Town place appreciated his slingshot skills!

But now, he still had several hours to pass. He took a seat down beside the vines he had climbed before. He and Navi agreed that jumping over the bridge and following the path during the changing of the guards would be the quickest and safest way to cross.

As he munched on a few of the fresh berries he'd exchanged the last of his rupees for, Navi came to settle on his knee. "I'm going to go scout ahead," she announced. "So I can find the best route into the castle and watch for when the guards change. Is that okay? Will you be alright for a little while?"

Link finished off the last of his fruit, and then nodded, pulling out a loaf of bread and tearing a small piece off. Satisfied, Navi took to the air again.

"Stay here, okay?" When he nodded again, she fluttered off, the quiet jingle of flight dying away as she left.

Once Link had ate his fill, he started to doze off for a while. But his sleep was fitful in the open area, nervous of someone sneaking up on him while he slept. So, after some time he sat back up and reached into his pocket for his flute, then, deciding against it, reached for the ocarina Saria had given him instead. It was the first time he was actually getting a good look at it, and as he slowly turned it over, he realized the fact that though he knew quite a bit about music in general, he had no idea how to play this particular instrument.

Slowly he brought the instrument up to his mouth, allowing his slender, wooden fingers to cover the holes, hoping he was correctly mimicking the way he had seen Saria hold hers. Not wanting to alert the guards, he blew a soft note into the instrument, playing a single, out of tune note.

Well, it was a start.

Blowing into the Ocarina was different from his flute. He had to position his mouth differently, and make sure he was properly covering each of the holes. Adjusting, he blew again, much more satisfied with the note that came out this time. He raised a single finger, comparing the sound. It was higher. Less fingers mostly meant higher.

He could not say for sure how long he spent picking notes at the ocarina, but finally, he had figured out enough to replay Saria's song. He slowly played the song, picking out the notes slowly, then faster as he memorized each note and finger placement, until finally, he could play the whole thing up to speed.

As he finally brought the instrument away from his mouth, he heard soft clapping to his side.

He immediately sprang to his feet and whipped around, raising one arm defensively while quickly stashing the ocarina away protectively, eliciting a gasp from his audience.

As he looked the person over, he realized that he recognized her. It was the girl that had spotted him that morning, that had locked eyes with him for some time, until he'd gathered the courage to leave.

The girl had taken a nervous couple steps back when he had hopped up so suddenly. But when she made no move to harm him, he relaxed, and she, in response, relaxed too. After a moment, she was smiling, hands clasped together.

"Wow, you're really good at music. Did you write that song?"

Link blinked once, his blue orbs flickering out and then back. "Oh, no, one of my friends made it up." He took a moment to fumble with and hastily stash the ocarina away, not wanting to risk the precious object becoming damaged.

The girl giggled, whether it be at his reaction or something else, he was unsure. But he couldn't help but smile sheepishly back. "Hee, hee, I've never seen anything like you before. What are you?"

His smile faltered just slightly. Not who, what. Being referred to as a thing had not bothered him as much when the stallchildren had done so; surely, they had little interaction with others living in the earth like they seemed to. But the Kokiri always referred to him as a person. And he always assumed that humans would too. In fact, most of the adults had referred to him as a person, had they not?

But she was a child like him, he had to remind himself. Perhaps she did not know. Perhaps it had just been the slip of her tongue. Still, his mind drifted back to the way the guard from before had referred to him, as a monster child.

Forcing the thought out of his mind, he finally responded honestly. "I'm a skull kid, from the forest."

She giggled again, repeating the words a couple times to get a feel for them. "Skullkid… Skull kid... Hee hee, that's a silly word. Do you have a name, skull kid?"

"Link," he responded with a nod.

The girl tilted her head from side to side, considering his name, then clasped her hands together. "Link is a funny name, it fits you! My name is Malon! Do you know any other songs, forest boy?"

Link was not sure if he should be flattered or insulted, but he chose to take it as a compliment. It was better to have friends than enemies, right? His hand reached back to grab the fairy ocarina, but instead he shifted his hand to another pocket and pulled out his more familiar flute.

He took a second to adjust his fingers, and then began to play, fingers expertly flying up and down, a merry tune coming out. He swayed from side to side, keeping his music in time. Malon clapped along to the beat, occasionally letting out a laugh or a little cheer. For moment, he forgot where he was, closing his eyes to imagine himself back on the tree stumps in the Lost Woods, playing along with his best friend in the world. It had only been two and a half days now since they had played together that morning, but already, with so many things happening in such a short time, it felt so, so far away.

When his tune came to an end and he opened his eyes again though, he was not in the noisy green forest clearing, but the quiet road on the way to the castle.

Malon clapped. "That was so cool Link! Do you know anymore songs?"

Link nodded, but before he could raise the flute up to his mouth again, Navi flew down from above, urgency in her voice.

"The guards are about to change Link, we need to go now, or it may be a while before we get another chance!"

Link looked to the side to Malon. He was having fun… but this was more important. He nodded to Navi, stuffing his flute back into his pockets, and turned to climb the vines like he had before.

"Wait!" Malon cried out, reaching an arm out to grab his shoulder.

Link paused, looking back to the red-headed girl. She pulled her arm away then hesitated.

"Are you… going to the castle?" When Link nodded in confirmation, she continued. "In that case… could you… do me a favor and look for my dad? He went to the castle this morning for a delivery, but he hasn't come back yet, and I'm getting worried… His name is Talon. He's wearing a red shirt and blue overalls - do you know what those are? Anyways, he's reaaaallllly big." She stretched her arms out wide.

Link considered it for a moment. Well… he was going to the castle anyways, he supposed. He nodded to the girl again. She started to say something, but Navi's voice cut in. "Come on Link, hurry, we won't have much time!"

With no time to spare, Link waved a final goodbye before he turned his focus back to the climb, scrambling up just as he had earlier.

#the legend of zelda #ocarina of time #oot #link #malon #navi #thoah

[nonsenseandstuff]

The Parable of the Selfish Woman

So this was inspired by this post.

Warnings: this story deals with the topic of abortion. Nothing is explicit. There is no abortion shown in the text. Implied child abuse and child abandonment. Implied ableism. Everything is implied, nothing is onscreen. 

While this might spark some conversation, please be civil. 

  The Parable of the Selfish Woman, or Her Story. 

  The woman was selfish. That’s what they said.

“What were you thinking? Who is the father? How could you?”

Her father told her sternly that she was dead to him. How dare she? She was going to marry whoever had done this to her. She replied that she was not. She refused to tell who the father was. She was selfish, self centred, good for nothing. Her own father told her she was nothing, worthless, damaged goods. That he would not see any grandchild of his born out of wedlock. 

So, the woman set out to set it right.

She had heard of a Witch, a Woman of the Woods. She lived in a twisted cottage somewhere in the darkness. It was said the Witch would trade. First borns are a good currency, and hers was barely a month in the womb. Surely that was better than an older child, already shaped and changed by well-meaning parents.

She took a cloth and laid it out on her bed, adding a hunk of hard cheese, some apples, dried meat, things that would keep her going. She put on her sturdiest shoes. She wrapped a blanket into a roll and took her warmest cloak.

She was ready.

She walked downstairs on tiptoe, trying not to wake her parents or her brothers and sisters.

Her mother was standing in the kitchen.

The selfish woman froze stock still in the doorway.

“Come on then. You’re going and I won’t stop you.” Mother held out a large waterskin. “Be safe. I will not tell your father where you went.”

“Tell him I am dead, should it please him.”

She shouldered her bundle and tied the waterskin to her belt. She did not kiss her mother’s cheek or say goodbye. She just turned around and walked out the front door.

The selfish woman set off. She walked through the village, empty and quiet as it was at this hour of the night. She walked out past the farmer’s fields. She finally reached the woods.

The woods were huge and the woods were dark and the woods were overgrown. Thorns snatched at her skirts. There was no clear path, but there were clues. Directions hidden all around her. There were stones that meant keep going, and trees grown into shapes that pointed the way. She knew all the signs. 

She kept going.

Eventually, she came across a brook. It was fairly shallow, clear water running over round stones. The woman took off her shoes and her stockings and she paddled across. She almost didn’t notice the duck.

It was a young one, with a hint of down left here and there. It was trapped, tangled, caught in a twist of roots sticking out of the bank and floating flotsam.

The woman’s first thought was of apathy. It was not her problem. She was in a rush. It was just a duck.

Her second thought was that there was good eating on a duck. Rich and fatty, it would keep her going.

It was her third thought that stopped her. She had food with her. Plenty for the journey there and back. The duck was young, the duck was small. It would take more time kill and butcher it than it would to cut it free.

The woman sighed.

She pulled a small knife from her belt and crouched down.

She cut the root off at the tree and tugged it free. It took maybe thirty seconds to get the duck loose and the little creature swam away as soon as it could.

The selfish woman sat down under the willow. She dried her feet as best as she could and put her socks and shoes back on. She ate a chunk of the hard cheese and one of the apples. Light was beginning to shine through the trees.

 The sun was rising.

  The selfish woman walked on. She walked through the trees. She walked through the thorns and the twisting grabbing branches.

Eventually, she came to a clearing.

At the centre of the clearing, there was a cat. It was a small thing, scrawny and ill kempt. The sun was high above the trees, scattering down between the leaves. The selfish woman sat down on the bare ground and took a long drink from the waterskin. She wiped her mouth and took some of the dried meat from her bag. Her father had killed a deer a couple of months ago and they’d eaten happily ever since. Venison dried easy and kept well.

The cat approached her and she noticed it was limping. It’s left front leg was malformed, twisted. As it came closer, she noticed its fur was not brown (as she had first thought), but a collection of different colours from light orange to brown dark enough to be almost black. It was just filthy.

It mewed and came closer.

“I’m not giving you any of my food.”

The cat mewed again. It came forward, then darted back nervously.

“No.” The selfish woman took a large bite of the meat and chewed it viciously. “Mine.”

The cat, ignoring the tone of her voice, padded forward nervously. It put its good front paw on her ankle and mewed again.

She went to push it off. She didn’t need to be getting fleas. It fell, tumbling sideways down to the ground. It mewed again, pitifully, and struggled to right itself. When it finally got upright, it darted away, then circled back to sit just out of her reach.

It mewed. And it mewed. And it mewed.

The selfish woman sighed. She tossed the last couple of inches towards the cat. 

“Fine,” she said. “Just so you’ll shut up.” She pulled an apple out of her bundle and ate that instead. The cat darted forward, grabbed the meat and trotted off surprisingly quickly. “Yeah, little con merchant.” She sat there -ate her apple, drank her water- for maybe half an hour. She listened to the birds. It was peaceful.

Eventually, she stood up, brushed off her skirt and settled her bundle on her back. She walked on.

The selfish woman came across a fallen tree, just as the light began to fade. It was as good a spot as any to set up camp. She gathered some long branches, some from the ground, some she took from trees. She leaned them up against the fallen tree, making a small shelter. As she turned around to grab some handfuls of leaves to lay over the branches, she jumped back in surprise.

There was a little boy standing a few feet away. He was perhaps six years old, with curly brown hair oversized eyes. He was clean and well dressed in neat, if slightly worn clothes. He was obviously well loved with his hair neatly tended and the knee of his breeches carefully patched. The selfish woman glanced around, but there was no family in sight. Just a child standing in the middle of the forest.

“Hello.” She crouched down so she was at his level. “Are you lost?”

The boy said nothing.

“Cat got your tongue?” she smiled. “One of my sisters is shy too. She’s about your age. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

The boy said nothing.

The selfish woman stood up and brushed her hands together.

“I’m building a shelter for the night. I need some leaves to keep the wind off.” She walked out past him, talking all the time as she gathered armfuls of leaves. “You can help if you like. It’s not safe to travel the forest at night. We’ll stay here for now and in the morning I’ll help you find your family.” She layered the leaves carefully, adding more sticks and branches to keep the leaves in place.

The boy stood still and said nothing.

The selfish woman sat down beside her shelter and pulled her bundle around to her lap.

“I’ve got some food here. Are you hungry?” The boy didn’t respond. “You are a quiet one aren’t you? You are a real boy aren’t you? Not some ghast or haunt sent to scare me?”

The boy giggled.

“Oh, not a ghast at all, I’ve never heard of a giggling ghast!” The selfish woman held out an apple. “Catch!” She tossed it to the boy and he rubbed it on his shirt before taking a bite. As he chewed, he came slowly over and sat about a foot away from her. They ate for a while in silence.

“Do you live near here?” the woman asked. “I am from the village of Redstone, back that way.” The boy shrugged. “Very well. I am on my way to see the Woman of the Woods. You can come with me, if you like, and then we will try and find your home.”

The boy shrugged again.

The selfish woman shared some bread and cheese with the boy, and they both drank some of the water. Then, the woman wrapped the boy in her only blanket and the two of them lay down in the shelter and slept.

When the woman awoke, she was alone.

The selfish woman set her bundle on her shoulder, and walked through the forest. She called and called and called for the boy, but found no trace of him. She had learned tracking at her mother’s knee (while father hunted deer, they would hunt rabbits, hunt mushrooms, hunt berries), but she could find no trace of the child. Her superstitious brain whispered that the boy was unreal, a figment. That he had been sent to warn her from her course.

She searched for hours.

She did not find the boy.

The sun was high above her by the time she turned back onto her track.

She noted the rocks that showed the path through the trees and followed them. It was time to see the Woman in the Woods.

She had heard stories from her early girlhood of the Witch, the Woman in the Woods. Her brothers had painted her as an ancient hag. Ugly, alone, and cruel. She was large and had warts and nasty grey hair. She dressed in rags held together with cobwebs and wherever she went crows followed. Women went to her in their direst distress and came back… different. They traded her their children for vain things no woman really needed. That’s what her brothers said. 

Her sister had told her the story of the Unhappy Prince, as she called him, the son of the Duke who lived up the hill and owned everything nearby. He was a smart boy, but strange. He was not as a son of a duke should be. When he should be standing tall and straight and iron hard and still, he hunched his shoulders and rocked from one foot to the other. When he should be staring down an opponent, his gaze stayed down, darting around the ground. When he should be attentive and listening, he would fiddle and flap and… it was unseemly, her sister sniffed.

Anyway, the Duke had tried everything. He had given the boy the best tutors. He had taken him to a priest. To an apothecary. Nothing worked. The boy stayed as he was. Whispers began. The boy was a changeling. The boy was cursed. The boy was not a boy at all.

So, at his wits end, the Duke bundled the boy into a carriage and took a handful of his men into the forest to seek the Woman of the Woods. His men came back after three days, confused and desperate for food and drink. There was no sign of the Duke or the Unhappy Prince.

Two days later, the Duke appeared, filthy and travel-worn, at the edge of the village.

He returned alone, furious. The story slipped out that he had met with her alone, his men arranged just out of sight, and offered the woman all the riches he possessed if she would only fix his son. She took his gold, and took the boy. She never returned. After a day and a night, he went to his men to find them gone also, driven away by some spell.

He had gone back into the forest several times, looking for his gold, looking for his lost son, looking for his revenge against the Woman of the Woods, but he never found her again and he never found the Unhappy Prince.

The selfish woman came to a river with stones set into it. She pulled up her skirts and stepped carefully across. She wondered if this was a wider section of the brook she’d come across earlier.

On the other side of the river was a deceptively sized cottage. At first glance, it seemed small, neat, with a thatched roof. Then she started to notice darker coloured offshoots and outbuildings. There was a fair sized garden, rimmed with hedges, and she recognised plenty of plants (some food, some medicinal). It seemed oddly quaint. Not the lair of a witch at all.

She took a deep breath and walked down the garden path to the front door.

The selfish woman stood on the front step for a long moment. Eventually, the door opened, just a little, and a woman looked out. She was not ugly. She was not old. She was maybe forty or fifty at most, with some grey streaks through her almost bluish black hair and warm brown skin.

“Yes? What do you want?”

“Are you the Woman of the Woods?”

“That is one of the things they call me. What brings you here?”

“I need help. Please.”

The woman in the doorway examined the woman on the step.

“Well,” she said, “I guess you’d better come inside.”

The inside of the house was exactly what you would expect from a house owned by a woods witch. There were bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters and pots bubbling over the fire. There were no apparent doors, which was strange, as the room was a lot smaller than it should have been judging from the outside. The Woman of the Woods walked over to the fire and began fussing with a kettle. She looked like she belonged here, in this overcrowded kitchen. Her pleasantly round form seemed perfectly in keeping with the warmness of the home.

The selfish woman hesitated, then perched carefully on one of the chairs arranged around a small wooden table with a knife and fire scarred surface.

“Woman of the Woods,” the selfish woman said, after taking a deep preparatory breath. “I am in need of your aid. I have travelled far and-“

“Enough of that. What is your name?”

“My name?” She felt wrong-footed, this was not going the way she expected. “It’s Willow.”

“Hello Willow, my name is Mila.” She placed two delicate cups on the table and poured hot water from the kettle. A rich brown tea bloomed. “Here, drink.”

Mila sat down, took a long drink from her tea with her eyes closed in appreciation, and then folded her hands on the table and looked at Willow expectantly.

“I heard that you took children. I mean, that you, that people sold you children.”

“Did you now? What, you want to be away from your parents, child? You cannot sell yourself, you know.”

“I’m sixteen! I’m not a child.”

“Are you not? Well then, what brings you to me?”

Willow took a long, slow breath. “What do you do with the children you take?”

“Ah, I thought that was it. You come here, no child with you, yet with child.” Mila sipped her tea and leaned back in her chair.  “You have three options. Well, mayhaps you have more than three, but three is traditional.”

“What are they?”

“First, you go home. You bear the child. You marry the boy. You live… maybe not happy, but settled, ever after. This is both the easiest and the hardest option.”

“I don’t want that. I’m not ready. I’ve got so much to do, and I… I’m fifth of nine. And it could have been twelve. I heard her scream in her child-bed. I saw the blood and the pain, and how she suffered for months after, if she didn’t fall pregnant again straight away. And the boy is nice. We have fun. But this wasn’t supposed to happen.” Willow looked down, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “I don’t know that I love him.”

“Very well. The second choice is to stay here. To wait out your time and bear the child. I will take it off your hands and raise it as one of my own.”

To live here, on the Witch’s charity, her generosity? She didn’t want to take advantage. It would be wrong to take her charity, to live her for nine months, to hand the infant over at it’s birth. And could she hand a baby over to a stranger? There were plenty of stories about the Woman in the Woods. That she cooked the children she took and ate them, that she could turn dirt into diamonds, that she was under no man’s control.

“What,” Willow asked, “happened to the Unhappy Prince?”

“The who now?”

“It’s what my sister calls him,” Willow frowned. “The son of the Duke. You took his money and you took him and you wouldn’t give him back.”

“Ah.”  Mila stood up, pressing a hand to her lower back and stretching. “Come on then.”

The Woman of the Woods led the way over to a heavy set of shelves against the wall, full of jars and bottles of all sorts of interesting things. Mila reached out and took hold of something, Willow couldn’t quite see what, and tugged. The whole shelves swung open.

Behind it was an absolutely huge room, filled with light and activity. There were children everywhere. Toddlers with dolls, young kids running around, older ones looking after the little ones, or sitting reading, or… there were so many. And this wasn’t a place of fear and deprivation as Willow had feared. These children were happy and healthy and clearly well loved. As she looked around, Willow saw a boy with clouded eyes being led by another, a pair of girls silently talking with their hands, a child in a wheeled chair propelling themselves along. These were the children sold to the Witch of the Woods.

And they were happy. They were wonderful. And this place was kind.

“Follow me,” Mila said. She led the way into the space, pausing to give the children they passed her attention. She listened to them and hugged them and tickled them and it was clear that they loved her and she loved them. Willow stayed close behind her and she managed to give the children nervous smiles of her own.

“His name is Edvard.” Mila ducked through a curtained archway and into a smaller second room. This room was darker, but full of soft textures and warmth. Again, there were many children and a handful of young adults. Mila led Willow to a corner where a young man was sitting. He looked a few years older than Willow, and he was closely focused on something he was working on. He was knitting, with a thick strand of purple wool wrapped around in a complicated pattern. It looked like he was maybe making a jumper, and he hummed tunelessly as he stitched. There was a cat curled up against him, purring loudly, and a small child was sitting cross legged on the floor, winding a skein of a dark grey wool through her fingers.

Willow and Mila stopped a few feet away.

“His father brought him to me. Offered me gold. Offered me jewels. Offered me wealth and power. He asked me to help his son, to make him better. So I did.” She gestured. “He did not need to be fixed. He is perfectly fine as he is. But he was not fine where he was, with people who only saw a burden instead of a human being. Here, he wears soft clothing and has space and quiet for himself. He is a good boy, he makes clothes for us all. He’s very good at sewing, at knitting, at crochet. He is good with the little ones too.” She glanced over at Willow. “Not what you expected?”

Willow shook her head.

“Can I..?” he gestured around her, and Mila nodded.

“By all means. They love visitors. Come and find me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Willow spent some time going back and forth between the two rooms. She built houses with blocks, she hugged dollies tight and sang as she rocked them, she drew pictures on wax tablets, then rubbed them smooth. She saw a little boy with brown curly hair and wide eyes stroking a calico cat with a twisted foreleg, and she was suddenly sure that out in the garden she’d find a duck with traces of down in his feathers. She wasn’t sure what to think about that. 

There was nothing wrong here. The children were loved. The children were happy. They children were cared for. And it was a home not just a place where spare parts were hidden away (she had been to the orphanage up in the city a few times, they sometimes bought a haunch from her father, or clothes from her mother, and she hated delivering there. It was cold and hard and the children were much too quiet).

Willow had no doubts that her child would be happy and safe here.

She went back into the kitchen.

“What’s my third option?”

“Ah. I said going home, having the child there, marrying the boy, that would be the easiest and the hardest. The third option is the the hardest and the easiest.” There was a small bottle on the table and Mila rolled it between her palms. “You drink this, there is no more pregnancy, no more child. You go home and live your life on your terms.”

This… Willow had heard of such things, whispers of herbs you could take, spells you could mutter. She’d heard of dark journeys to dark alleys and tools pushed up inside. It was frightening.

“I just have to drink it?”

“You just have to drink it. If you were further along, it would be more difficult, but at this point there barely is a baby. It’s a thimbleful of flesh, half a cup of blood.” She shrugged. 

“I know. My mother, three times she’s lost one. Two of those times it was just as though her monthly came late, a little heavier than usual, a little thicker. Nothing that looked like a child.”

“Ah.” Mila set the bottle down in front of her. “It is your body. Your life. You don’t have to share it with anything.”

“My father called me selfish. Said I was wrong to do what I did. And maybe I was. But we all do it. Or, most of us anyway. He said the child would just be a drain. That if I refused to marry, he wouldn’t see me anymore. I wouldn’t be his daughter. The child would be nothing but a parasite on the family.”

“Hmm.”

“But wouldn’t this be selfish too? Aren’t I being selfish to want… well, to want.”

“My dear,” Mila said firmly. “Every human being is selfish. From the peasant boy who came here begging me to change his fortune, to the Duke who asked me to ‘fix’ his son. It’s human nature.” She rapped her fingers on the table top. “Don’t let that shape your decision. You have three options.”

Willow sat in thought for a long time.  Three options, all of them wrong. If she took her child home, she was just creating another mouth to feed. If she left the child here, she was taking advantage, she was giving someone else a burden. If she drank the potion, she was putting her own wishes above her child. Selfish, selfish, selfish. Whatever she did, she would be castigated.

She thought about going home. She thought about living here for nine months, her body swelling and changing. She thought about the bottle of potion being offered to her.

Her head came up, her eyes steely, her hands steady.

“I have made my decision,” she said.

#original fiction #nonsense writes #tumblr inspires #fable #parable #feminism #witches #writeblr #long post #story #writing #i debated whether to post this #for like over a week

[satansluvchild]

Ch 4-  The Great Viper

* wattpad- kenyamars book- Im the antagonist of this story 

Artemisia's limb throbbed with each step; the wound on her leg had begun to knit itself closed. She'd walked for roughly two hours in the hot sun, resting her drakon form for the flight she would be forced to take shortly. All of her former plans being ruined by a bandit group rubbed her the wrong way. The drakon is fierce. They shouldn't struggle against humans, not nearly as much as she had. Thinking of the altercation, a lot of things didn't make sense.

While it was usual to run into bandits at the forest entrance or on marked paths people visited for items, this group was deep inside the forest. They also had an experienced mage, one that could cast spells quickly. Yet, something felt wrong; it was almost as they knew Artemisia would travel through the woodlands. She had been traveling slower than usual; when she encountered the group just sitting in the clearing, they made no move to stand when she appeared. When she stepped foot inside the clearing, she felt weakened, as if invisible shackles were tied to her arms and legs. It must've been planned from the beginning to kill her.

But why? Had Anaidid kingdom found out about the scouts?

If so, the situation was worst than thought; she had made the right decision to waste no time. When the kingdom found out she was not executed, they would send reinforcement to finish the job. She walked four more hours before something appeared; an enormous red viper landed on the ground in front of her. This one was bigger than usual and had a black underbelly, which meant it had evolved into a queen viper. Artemisia evaluated the situation. The queen viper was notorious for its poison fangs; if she got caught, she would be paralyzed and eaten alive. Pulling out her sword, she braced herself.

Orpheus walked after Artemisia, cautious not to draw recognition. When Artemisia had walked away before, she had been jolted. She decided to run to her home and gather a few items she knew she'd need and follow Artemisia closely. While Orpheus knew she had gotten far, she could tell which direction she went just by a sense of knowing.

I could walk with her until she stops in a village, then I will learn about this world.

The pain she felt before had disappeared, replaced by excitement and trepidation of the new world. During her time on Earth, Orpheus had been limited to where she could go. For 15 years of her life, she had only known the small town of Dorchester. Now she would be able to explore the world as she pleased.

The snake slithered toward her opening its enormous jaws. Artemisia lunged left and attempted to stab through the snake. Unfortunately, her wound had reopened, beginning to bleed profusely again. This caused the snake to become more aggressive, its attacks quicker. She dodged the oncoming snake again, feinting left then going right. This was bad; she'd already felt weakened from the fight with the bandits, breathing heavily; she tried to stab the eye of the viper in hopes of blinding it but was too slow and ended puncturing higher, enraging the beast.

Orpheus had been strolling, thinking of all the types of food she could try when she heard fighting. Then, sneaking a peek through the bushes, she saw the largest Ruby she'd ever faced. Fighting it was none other than Artemisia, sweating and breathing heavily, swinging her great sword. Looking through the Homemade satchel he'd made from viper and boar skin, he tried to find the cherished item he had brought with him. It was a Dual-edged and razor-sharp sword that he'd stolen off a boar, a reasonably short, broad, smooth blade made of folded steel. The cross-guard contained a decorative bear head on each side, marking the house it previously belonged to. The pommel was a shining aquamarine gem. Several words that looked like spells she couldn't read had been etched onto the blade.

She set her bag down and decided the element of surprise would work in her favor. Looking at the nearest sturdiest-looking tree, she began to climb it. Glancing down, she saw Artemisia stagger to her feet. Then, turning into a Drakon, she roared and began her ferocious attack again. Orpheus was amazed at the scene below. The power between both monsters could probably be felt through the entirety of the forest. Artemisia looked up at Orpheus; she didn't know whether to feel annoyed the girl still followed her or relieved she had not listened.

The snake ran towards her gnashing its fangs; while tiny compared to fully adult drakon, Artemisia was big for her age. Her stature was the reason she could grapple with the giant snake. Glancing back up at Orpheus, she noticed the girl gripping a great sword instead of a stick. This glance caused the snake to gain the upper hand. Constricting Artemisia, it was readying to bite when it died. Orpheus had dropped from the trees, stabbing it in the back of its head. Orpheus was delighted her decision had saved Artemisia just in the time. Beaming, she looked at the dragon. Even in Drakon form, Orpheus could tell Artemisia was annoyed by her not listening. The Drakon began to unravel the snake from itself. Stretching it then became Artemisia again.

 With a sullen look Artemisia couldn’t help but feel upset .”You've saved me again; how embarrassing.” 

The shame she felt from not once but twice being saved by a mere human made her stomach knot. At only 250 years old, Artemisia was ignorant and had looked upon any being, not Drakon. Now she could see her lapse of judgment. This girl name Orpheus seemed stronger than her, and this caused an epiphany to strike her heart. She would take Orpheus with her and learn how she had become strong so young.

“I have changed my voice; I will allow you to accompany me to my village. Surely they will let you in when they hear that you've saved me twice.”

Orpheus nodded and walked back to gather her satchel. Then, remembering the potion Artemisia gave her, she grasped it and handed it to Artemisia.

“Here for your wounds”

Artemisia looked at the vial, drinking half, and tried to hand it back to Orpheus. Turning to face Orpheus, she was amazed at the display. Orpheus was again huddled, clutching her stomach as if it pained her so. Was she wounded during the battle? Perhaps that's why Artemisia heard her shriek and stumble to the ground during the match. Why did she not drink the drunin? As annoying as the girl was, Artemisia did not want to watch someone who helped her die. Orpheus groaned with agony sweating and saying the exact phrase monotonously.

“not now, no, not now, why now, no, not now”

Worried, Artemisia began to walk towards her when she noticed something strange happening to the trees. They bent towards her and Orpheus; she had never seen something like this before. Terrified, she tried to grab Orpheus and run away. However, when she touched Orpheus, her heart sputtered. An intense feeling of wrongness came from Orpheus; Artemisia felt the instinct to run from her. Was she the one bending the trees? Why? Backing away, she kept her gaze on Orpheus; while she didn't think she'd harm her to be cautious, she drew her sword and waited for a sign of aggressiveness.

Manipulation?

Artemisia tried to think of a reason the once sunny girl was emitting evilness. She was confused about what triggered her. On the last occasion, she was fighting as well.

Maybe fights caused her bloodlust?

Artemisia had witnessed countless drakons get sucked into bloodlust and go on rampages; the only way to snap them out of it was to defeat them; this usually ended in death; drakons were prideful creatures and never willingly yielded.

When the smell of blood hit Orpheus, it made her realize how hungry she'd been. The burning in her head and stomach came back full strength, knocking her to her knees. She had just won Artemisia's trust; why now did she have to become rabid. Usually, Orpheus would go out early in the morning to check her traps. Still, she was interrupted by Artemisia's screech this morning. She never investigated the pitfalls. While she ate less with more time, she could not forgo food too long like a newborn. Peering up, she noticed through her vision blurred with tears the stance artemisia had taken. She stood grimacing with pain and looked for her fallen satchel; turning the bag over, she shook it, emptying the contents onto the dirt floor. Grabbing the reddish-orange fruit, she ate it with savagery, not even taking the time to relish the rare sweetness only known as yio-yio fruit.

Not enough, not enough, not enough ...

Something in her head repeated this; looking at the snake, she dropped the fruit's carcass, grabbed her sword, and marched toward its corpse. Raising the sword, she clumsily dug a hole into the snake. Oblivious of Artemisia watching her chop the snake, her focus solely on the meal in front of her. Dropping the sword, she dug her hands into the corpse and began to eat the animal's lukewarm meat and organs. Blood dyed her hands and face, the already stained and tattered toga taking the worst as the blood dripped down her chin. She could feel the strength returning to her. Sighing with delight, she closed her eyes and bit into the second heart of the Ruby.

Artemisia watched in awe; she didn't know humans could eat meat raw. She watched as Orpheus stuck her hand back into the creature pulling on another bloody organ. The scene in front of her was grisly, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. She was not used to humans; this being one of the first times paying attention to them, she felt like she didn't know a lot about them. Her first mission felt like a big success; she could tell the king many things, like how humans could also eat raw meat. She was also perplexed.

“Human, is today a special day for you?” Asked Artemisia, Orpheus seemed not to hear her question continuing to eat the meat with both hands.

Drakons only ate meat when the day was special to them or their tribe. Artemisia remembered when the tribe won back land from the Ruhu Drakon tribe. She and her family feasted on expensive raw Thornhand meat and danced the entire night away. Or the other reason would be they had no other options of food. To Artemisia, Orpheus looked like a young orphan or laborer.

That must be it, then! On the other hand, maybe she has gone a long time without food.

That didn't explain the feeling she felt when grasping Orpheus. She knew she felt something dark. The time before that, she also felt a dark aura in Orpheus that quickly dissipated.

Orpheus feel content, she ate more than intended, but her pain finally left. Looking down, she could see she did a number to her dress. Sighing, she turned and looked at the discarded items on the floor. Spotting the Skin flask, she picked it up and began to wash her face and hands. Standing again, she turned to pick up the sword a few feet away.  Doing so, she remembered the audience she had and turned to stare in horror at Artemisia, who was gazing at her intently.

[talizorahs]

#DA2017 || vanilla twilight (warden/alistair)

this gift is for the lovely @mureh and their finell mahariel! i hope you enjoy your hurt comfort-y schoomp-y fic ^^;

VANILLA TWILIGHT.

( read on ao3. 2466 words. )

Her beats loudly in her ears, a steady rhythm of one-two-one-two-one-two coaxing her footsteps faster as they run. A quick glance over her shoulder confirms all she needs to know: Alistair is still at her heels. His hood has been forsaken by the wind, revealing his bronzed face and the brown curls which bounce in time with his heavy footfalls - behind him are the Venatori agents pursuing them across the grounds of the Manor, swords clanging on their belts and magic buzzing through the air, hot and electric. Finell pushes on, beckoning her fellow agent by meeting his eyes.

Another lightning bolt fizzles next to her head, and her hair stands on end even as she ducks to avoid it. Alistair yelps as a fireball is flung - the heat hot on even Finell’s back - but it fizzes towards the ground with a bang.

One-two-one-two - but Mythal is kind. A corner beckons them up ahead, making Finell’s heart leap. Neither agent hesitates before skidding around it, taking off again up the shallow slope. Their footsteps echo on the cobblestone, which quickly turns to solid, earthy ground as the pathway opens up into a magnificent garden. The familiar ground beneath Finell’s feet entice her steps faster - that, and the seemingly endless lines of trees, winding far above their heads towards the black night sky.

“Break,” she gasps to Alistair, and, without another moment’s thought, darts between the trees.

If this were the Brecilian Forest, she’d know which tree to take refuge in, or which had the sturdiest scouting perch or hideout for lining up the perfect shot. Here, instinct is all she has. She comes to rest against the thick trunk of an old oak - not the tallest of trees in the Manor’s collection but impressive all the same.

Here, she can see the mouth of the orchard, where the two Ventori agents - a mage and a warrior - linger. They have stopped at the entrance, the torch between them casting an eerie orange glow across the nearby trees. With a nod at each other, they begin to stroll through the courtyard, torch raised, making their bodies shape solemn shadows across the ground.

One-two-one-two…. one-two… one-two - and there is Alistair, a few rows away, hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath. He is easy to spot under Finell’s trained eye; she has long-since memorised the shape of his silhouette. He doesn’t see her, but he does notice the orange glow of the Ventori as they weave between the trees, winding through like a set of slow dancers.

Onetwo…. onetwo…. one-two…. one-two….

Alistair flattens himself against the trunk, and Finell peers from behind the ancient oak. They both wait. A glance back at the entrance confirms all hope is not lost; the cobblestone pathway is unguarded for now. Perhaps the Venatori did not have time to call for reinforcements, or perhaps they think they’re hunting simple thieves. Losing them in the trees is simple, if they can only stay hidden.

She takes a deep breath and then another as the torchlight gravitates towards Alistair. The yellow and orange hues draw out long shadows from the trees, accusative like the sword hung in the warrior’s hand. For a moment, it appears they might pass over his hiding spot, but the warrior makes an sudden, abrupt turn on their heel and casts the torch over the wood of the tree trunk. Finell can only guess why, but it sets her heart on edge and her eyes glued to Alistair’s form pressed against the tree.

The light slowly loops around the trunk as the pair investigates, torch raised high. When the light casts across his hidden form, there’s a split second of hesitation, and then he runs. Her eyes widen as the scene unfolds: the Venatori shout, taking pursuit, and the air is quickly charged with the taste of electricity. Alistair is quick, dodging their bolts, but the last clips him on the shoulder before he can weave between the trees. It’s electricity, blue and hot, but what’s worse is that Finell hears him yell - and he collapses into the dirt.

One…. Bathed in the darkness, she takes an arrow from her quiver and begins a chase of her own. Two…. The first arrow lands in the mage’s chest, and they crumble in the dirt next to where they stood over Alistair. One…. The second arrow misses, but her bow does not, slammed hard into the warrior’s nose from out of the darkness. He stumbles, surprised, but raises his sword in a quick recovery. One-two…. One-two…. Their eyes meet. Then, again, there is battle: quick as Finell stabs her small dagger into his eye, in a parry right after his first swing.

And there is Alistair, shakily lifting himself off the ground. Relief settles into her chest - he’s still alive. “Ali?” She sets a hand on his back, eyes drawn immediately to the charred shoulder of his armor. It looks painful, with the criss-cross of burned, inflamed skin beneath. All expected markings of a lightning bolt, plus the red hot pain that streaks across Alistair’s face as he sits up.

“Hey,” he breathes, brown eyes meeting her own, before they wander down to the bodies a few feet away. “You…?”

“Me.” She had no choice. Even if it compromised their cover here, it was worth it to keep Alistair safe.

He seems equally relieved, sagging against the tree trunk. He holds his injured shoulder carefully, his arm hugged to his chest and his eyes glassy but aware. “Thank you,” he breathes. “Now you…. didn’t happen to bring an injury kit...” He adjusts himself against the trunk, wincing. “-did you…? Pretty please, tell me you did.”

Since the Blight, Finell had never gone anywhere without one. Elfroot could only do so much for darkspawn-related injuries. But it was the unease that settled over her here, still neck-deep in enemy territory, the rest of their fates unknown. There could be reinforcements on the way, or the torchlight dwindling on the ground next to the fallen Venatori could have them identified by any number of patrols.

Their mission was compromised enough. Who knew intelligence could go so wrong? Looking down at Alistair now, shivering slightly, eyes glassy with pain, made her question once again if this was the right thing to do. The Inquisition. The whole world-saving business again.

She nods. “But first, we need to get out of here. Can you walk?”

Alistair seems insulted by the question, albeit mockingly. “Psh, can I walk. Of course I can walk. But I wouldn’t mind if you, ah, let me lean on you. Just a little.” Those glassy eyes shroud over again as he shifts, grimacing again. “Shoulder is… ow, uh, giving me a bit of a twinge, that’s all.”

Getting Alistair to his feet is easy enough, but he wavers against her and, with their height difference, it’s difficult to trust that Finell can catch him should he start listing. The comforting rhythm of his heart next to her ear assures her he’s fine, solid next to her. She starts slow, setting them off towards the mouth of the orchard. One-two…. one-two…. one-two…. one-two…. His breaths are not as comforting, turning more and more ragged the closer they get to the pathway, making her wonder if the jagged bolts of lightning had stopped at his shoulder.

As they had been when they entered, the grounds were empty save for the dotted lamps across the stretches of the Manor and the twisting hedges lining the entrance. The Venatori patrol they ran into must have purely been bad luck. With Mythal’s blessing, the Inquisition’s cover here was still intact while conducting their surveillance of the Venatori.

“Can you…. slow down? It’s-” Alistair stumbles, and it takes all of Finell’s strength to keep them from crashing to the ground. Panting, he leans heavily against her, head hung and eyes closed. His heart races in her ear: one-two one-two one-two one-two - “Sorry,” he apologises, “just hurting. I know we need to get out of here.”

“We will,” she replies, her thumb scraping subconsciously across his back as he steadies himself. His heart doesn’t slow, but his breaths do. “We’re almost there.”

“Damned bastards, the lot of them. The Venatori, the Red Templars, Corypheus.” Alistair set the pace this time, muttering, “making even scouting work hard. Seriously, I walk into something sharp or hot every time I leave that stupid castle.”

Finell has to snort, the banter a welcome distraction from the hammering of Alistair’s heart against his chest. They need to set down soon and get his shoulder treated. “Maybe we wind you up in cotton again.”

“That is a part of your whole ‘accident prone’ joke with Leliana, and I’m not having a bite of it. No, I’m telling you, the whole of Thedas is out to get me.” His voice nearly cracks; they both hear it.

“Good thing I’m here to catch you at the end of it,” she says, gently now, like the steps she starts taking across the final stretch of courtyard. It is still quiet, eerily so, and the unease pushes her to speed up despite Alistair’s quickly-tiring feet.

“Aw, so sentimental,” he croons, then clears his throat. “I do love it when you get all sweet like that. Reminds me…. Oof-” This time he does list to the ground, one knee collapsing around from under him. They narrowly miss the large bush lining the entrance to the grounds, Alistair landing with a muffled yell, Finell barely missing landing on top of him. “Shit-”

Mythal seems to be watching over them: with their crash to the ground, the Venatori patrol cannot see them past the height of the hedge. They appear from the castle, lacking the urgency Finell feared - just another patrol like the one they ran into before.

“Shh,” she hisses as Alistair struggles to right himself “Don’t move.”

“Wha-”

“Shh!”

The patrol makes a quick pass of the gates before disappearing up into the winds of the Manor again. Alistair stills and holds his breath until the torchlight disappears into another pathway.

“At least…. now we know there’s definitely Venatori here,” he whispers. Finell didn’t realise their closeness with his breath hot against her cheek. “Grazham can come and utterly decimate them.”

“Not before we get you somewhere safe first,” she whispers, letting that sweetness he crooned about touch her voice, before climbing slowly to her feet. For now, the guards are gone - it’s the optimal time to flee. “Okay to walk again?”

“Legs are jelly,” he murmurs in reply.

“Jelly?”

“They feel funny.”

That is slightly alarming, reminding her of the hammering of Alistair’s heart. He will be okay. “Then let’s get you up. I have an injury kit; we just need to get back to the horses across the way.”

It’s harder than last time; Alistair is nearly a deadweight against her. Their pace is slower than before, but they eventually make it to the clearing where their horses still graze. The Manor is just within view between the trees where Finell sets him down against the closest one. He’s motionless until she returns and crouches haphazardly in front of him, his face screwed up in pain.

He jives, “I’ve decided…. lightning is definitely my least favourite mage area.” His eyes are more glassy than before, and half-lidded, with tiredness visibly pulling on him. “Shocking, huh?”

“You are ridiculous.”

“And in a lot of pain. Please… take pity on me.”

Finell has to shake her head to keep herself steady while she applies the injury kit. Pulling away his robes reveals what she initially feared: red, inflamed skin with lightning patterned in a criss-cross all down his chest and right arm. There will be nerve damage or muscle damage - both of which are not good and need the attention of a healer, not just her shaking hands.

“What is it,” he prods, the first words he’s said while she’s been gently tending to his shoulder.

“It just looks bad,” she answers, eyes fixed to his wound, which is now layered with concentrated elfroot ointment. Gently, she applies the compress bandage, eliciting a hiss. In the painful few moments it takes for his eyes to refocus on Finell’s face she cradles his cheek to help re-centre him. “And,” she adds, “I’m worried about you.”

It’s Alistair’s turn to snort, though it’s more of a slow chuckle. “So sweet,” he croons.

Her thumb wanders down his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw, then settles on his injured shoulder to check the compress one final time. It’s as good as the injury kit is going to get without a mage, and as good as Alistair will be until he’s ready to travel. That won’t be until morning - and so close to the Manor, they can’t risk a fire.

Of course, such is life glued to Alistair Theirin.

“I’m going to get our blankets from the horses,” she says softly, straightening. “Then we’re going to try get some sleep; you’re in no condition to travel.”

He protests immediately, shifting from his position against the tree, but only sits halfway up. His shoulder stops him, his arm cradled limply in his lap. “Okay,” he says, eyes following her as she searches their packs, “maybe you are right. Just this once.”

There are two blankets, both of which she tucks around them before settling against Alistair’s good side. It was awfully reminiscent of their time at the party camp all those years ago, pressed up against each other in their tents. All that is missing is the crackle of a fire and the odd Mabari.

“Hey, Fin,” he murmurs as the silence stretches, leaning closer to nuzzle her head underneath his chin. She obliges, letting her eyes fall closed, listening to the sounds of his breath and the rumble of his chest as he continues, “thank you for taking care of me. I know you do it a lot, and sometimes I feel like…. like I’m the luckiest man alive. Running into you again, after everything that happened. And you’re still there, this big, strong leader. Helping me and everyone out of any sticky situation.”

“Alistair,” she says in return, and he stiffens. “It’s okay. I’m just relieved you’re safe. Now, and every time before that.”

Then he relaxes, shifting so she can hear the beat of his heart, too, steadier than before. “Thank you,” he says again, softer this time, as he starts to immediately drift off. The rest will be good for him, and will hopefully strengthen him enough to travel in the morning.

“Always,” she whispers in return against his chest, and the beat of his heart helps count her to sleep: one-two…. one-two…. one-two….

#SantaAge2017 #alistair theirin #warden x alistair #mahariel #warden mahariel #writing

[saibh29]

Survival 101: Confession (Part 9)

Pairing: Bellamy / Reader

Warnings: Violence, Swearing, Angst, mentions of punishment and retribution. 

AN: I’m sorry this took me forever to update this time, it just wasn’t working right and i’m still not completely happy with this chapter. Hoping it’s alright anyhow though. 

If you’d like to read the other parts of Survival the link to the masterlist for the series is here....SURVIVAL 101 MASTERLIST 

Also if you’d like to be tagged for this story please add yourself to my taglist which can been found here.... TAGLIST 

@no-other-names-availible-blog @angelaiswriting @selldraug @angryares @thenovarose @georgiagrl1990 @punk-rock-5-sos @mindofthescattered @dontstopxx @iamabeautifulperson18 @madelinecraig03 @ka-x-in @im-hurric4ne @mesmericbell @something--awesome @weirdpotato-14 @putinontheritzz @soulslaststand @fuckthatfeeling @ember1201 @morganlb23 @maria-tifa @kitkatbadass @cordelia-stark-jones @tomhoppersarms @fakingintrest @itsbubbaog @coffeebooksandfandom @diaryoftherealme @blusnowflakee @ineedyourloveandsupport @neverunderestimateacelt 

You hadn’t thought that life could get any more difficult, then of course Charlotte had to go and announce to a full blown mob that she was the one who had killed Wells. Bellamy had acted quickly and grabbed Charlotte pushing her forwards into the tent you’d previously all been in. Finn had stayed outside to keep the mob away from the doors and you and Clarke had followed Bellamy into the tent.

“Why, Charlotte?” Bellamy begged running his hands through his hair as he paced the full length of the not huge tent. “Why would you kill Wells?”

“I was just trying to help” she sobbed “his dad locked us all up, sent us down here to die. I couldn’t sleep at night for dreaming about him”

Your heart hurt for the little girl, she was just a child and had made a somewhat fatal mistake. You understood what that felt like.

“Charlotte?” you asked gently “How did you even know where to stab him like that?”

She wiped her eyes looking at you “I copied what you did to Atom”

“What?” the air had rushed from your lungs “I sent you to get Clarke from camp”

“I stayed. I wanted to see, to be brave”

“Fuck” you were the one who was rubbing at your neck this time as guilt hit you. She had copied how you had killed Atom. She had watched you push a knife into Atom’s artery and then done the same thing to Wells.

“BELLAMY, BRING THE GIRL OUT NOW!”

Murphy’s voice had apparently come back quickly enough as he yelled out for Charlotte. She had started crying again reaching out to grab at Bellamy’s sleeve.

“Please don’t let them hurt me. Please”

Bellamy looked torn, not knowing what to do. He obviously didn’t want to hand Charlotte over to a crowd who only moments before had been ready to watch Murphy hang.

“If you guys have any bright ideas speak up?” he scowled when Clarke remained silent “Great, now you stay quiet”

“Those are your boys out there Bellamy” Clarke insisted. “Get rid of them”

“This is not his fault” you didn’t know when you had suddenly turned into Bellamy’s cheerleader. It was the truth though. “If you had listened to us in the first place those idiots out there would still be building a wall”

“Y/N, we had to tell the truth, you know why I had to give them a chance”

“YOU WANT TO BUILD A SOCIETY PRINCESS? LET’S BUILD A SOCIETY. BRING HER OUT”

“The truth?” you snorted “yeah they seem real concerned with the truth Griffin”

“Look” Bellamy interrupted cutting off your and Clarke’s brewing argument. “Just stay here, watch her. I’ll talk to them”

With a sigh Bellamy set his shoulders and marched out of the tent leaving you with Clarke and Charlotte. Finn came back in as well staring at the three of you.

“It’s time to leave”

“Leave where?”

“We have to get Charlotte out of here. Now” he insisted as he took the girls hand pulling her to the back of the tent. Clarke following instantly, both of them stopping to look at you who hadn’t moved. “Y/N please, we need your help”

“Fine” you ducked under the tent canvas along with the other three.

Finn took hold of Charlotte with you in the lead and Clarke behind. You moved quickly through the trees ducking under low hanging branches and moving around ditches filled with putrid water. You moved easily however the others behind you were struggling to keep up.

Gasping Clarke came to a stop. “It’s going to be night soon. Where are we going? At least tell me you have a plan and we’re not just wandering aimlessly through the woods”

“I have a plan” Finn agreed pointing off to another direction this time you all walking until her stopped once more.

“CHARLOTTE! CLARKE, FINN AND Y/N CANT SAVE YOU”

Murphy’s voice was loud and far to close for you to feel comfortable about.

“We should run” Clarke said eyes nervously flicking around the trees. Waiting for Murphy to jump out and force you all to hand over Charlotte.

“Yeah that’s one way to go. I like my plan better” he reached into seeming grass and pulled on something, opening a type of hatch. “Get in. Get in” He helped Charlotte down into the hole then Clarke.

“I’m not getting in there”

“What? Y/N come on”

“No” you could feel panic starting to build in your chest at the idea of being in a hole once more, locked in a cell. “I can’t”

Finn must have heard the panic because his eyes softened slightly. “Y/N it’s bigger down there than it looks. It isn’t a cell. I promise”

“CHARLOTTE”

Your head snapped to the left Murphy was about to come through them.

“I can’t Finn” you shook your head “I’m sorry I just can’t. Get in and I’ll lead them away from here”

Finn hesitated but you were running out of time, the sounds of footsteps so close now that any second Murphy would appear.

“Run fast Y/N”

Finn dropped into the hatch as well pulling it closed. Disgusted at yourself for the panic that still welled up in your chest at the thought of being trapped within 4 walls once more you took a deep breath trying to clear out the panic there, waiting until Murphy had just come through the trees to run. You knew he’d caught sight of you from the sudden shouts of success. You weren’t worried about them catching you though as you flew through the forest, bypassing trees and jumping over obstacles on the floor.

When you could run no longer you found the sturdiest tree near and scaled it, settling into the branches.

Strange, you could hang above the ground on nothing but a small branch but the idea of being put in a hole with 4 walls made you hyperventilate to the point of uselessness.

Underneath a group of delinquents passed by with Murphy in the lead still hollering for Charlotte. He was moving remarkably quickly for a man who had just been beaten and hung. Apparently vengeance and malic highly motivating emotions. You let them pass content in the knowledge that they were going in the opposite direction to where Finn and Clarke had Charlotte hidden.

Smirking to yourself you watched the next man come into view. You couldn’t help having a little bit of fun with him pulling a chunk of bark off the branch and throwing it down at his head.

The bark hit Bellamy square in the back of his head as he spun knife out as he looked desperately for what had attacked him.

“Hey Blake!”

Bellamy jumped finally looking up eyes meeting your own in the soft dark of the light. “Fuck Y/N. What the hell are you doing up there?”

“Well there happens to be a mob running around looking for blood. I’m avoiding them”

“Where are they?”

“Safe”

Bellamy let out a relieved sigh at that still frowning at you though. “Will you please come down from there?”

“Sure” taking a step out of the tree you dropped to the ground in a crouch, looking up from your new position into Bellamy’s face. “I’m down”

“I can see that” he rubbed at his face. “What exactly are we going to do?”

“I honestly have no idea. I don’t have a plan here Bellamy. Finn and Clarke have her safe but they can’t stay there forever” you paused thoughts bubbling in your brain. “It’s one or the other I believe. Murphy won’t let it go and Charlotte would never be safe. So either we keep Murphy or we keep Charlotte”

“We can’t hurt a 13 year old girl”

“Murphy will be more useful to the group”

“Y/N” Bellamy snapped a horrified tinge coming to his face. “You cannot mean that you want to give her to Murphy”

“I’m not saying that” you insisted “I’m just… thinking out loud. We have very few options here Blake and none of them are particularly appealing” From the tree’s the sounds of shouting became loud once more as Murphy’s group turned around heading back towards you and Bellamy. “We can’t stay here Bellamy”

Obviously he agreed because without thought Bellamy grabbed your hand linking his fingers with your own and pulling as the two of you took off back into the forest away from the sounds of shouting.

#the 100 #the 100 cw #the 100 imagine #the 100 x you #the 100 x reader #the 100 imagines #the 100 fanfic #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 rewritten #the 100 rewrite #bellamy #bellamy blake #bellamy x you #bellamy blake x you #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy imagine #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy fanfic #bellamy blake fanfic #finn #finn collins #clarke #clarke griffin #octavia #O #octavia blake #monty #jasper #john

[dazzledbybooks]

May Sage & Alexi Blake will be revealing art from The Cursed Crown every month leading up to the December 1st release! Today’s art comes from Haloren1st! Check it and an exciting new excerpt out now! Title: The Cursed Crown Author: May Sage & Alexi Blake Genre: Epic Fantasy Illustrator: Gabriela Dea Julia Typography by Sylvia Frost from The Book Brander Boutique Release Date: 1st of December About The Cursed Crown: My lips hitch up an inch as the hulking, slender man bends down to whisper in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.” He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground like the flock of gentry buzzing around him. My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?” I have to allow him that one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease. He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.” I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares. No one was ever born less suited to ruling than Rissa, the thorn of the seelie realm—a half-fae so wild she’s spent the better part of a hundred years in the woods. For all her flaws, she’s the last of the high court bloodline, and the southern king seems to think that’s reason enough to slap a crown on her feathered head. He needs her to unify the seelie forces. She needs him to forget about that nonsense. In an effort to aid her people without condemning herself to a lifetime of misery, she sets off on a journey to find the one person with a stronger claim to the throne than hers: the cursed prince. Sealed in the mountains of the Wilderness, under many spells, the heir of the first seelie queen is the only royal strong enough to protect the fae lands from their immortal invaders. Surviving the untamed tribes and awakening a thousand-year-old prince seem a lot easier than ruling an entire kingdom where everyone hates her very nature. And her choices won’t come without consequences. Pre-Order for a Limited Time Sale Price! Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082FS6S5V Apple: https://apple.co/2I0tPNh Nook: http://bit.ly/398w8tQ Kobo: http://bit.ly/2wLAs3E Exclusive Excerpt: The first time the high king sent hunters after me, I terrified them, drowning them in the depths of their worst nightmare. I can get rather bored in the forest, and their fear entertained me for a day or two. The second time, I was less kind. Instead of a handful of men, he sent two dozen. Half returned home, none of them whole. I am no simple beast foreign kings can summon at their leisure. I am no weakling to bow to the will of another court. I am a nightmare. Half a nightmare, if one wishes to be technical about it. No one does, however. The folk like to conveniently forget that I am part gentry. Half a nightmare. Half a child of the Court of Sunlight. Entirely wild. I didn’t expect a third assault. I should have. I may have met Rydekar Bane only once, but it’s enough to understand what kind of king ascended to the throne of Tenebris. A single rider enters my woods this time. Just one man on a pale horse. Yet I bristle. The stems growing inside my veins, sprouting out of my pores, crawl along my arm, protectively wrapping me under their thorns. I feel the feathers on my shoulders flutter. One rider on a pale horse, yet I am afraid. It isn’t in my nature to fear anything. My instincts aren’t prepared for it. Am I to flee like prey? Am I to remain to await my fate? Prepare to fight? I’m so lost I end up doing nothing at all. I’m still perched atop the sturdiest branch of the ash tree I’ve claimed as my home when he appears, standing alone. Rydekar. Somehow, I never expected that he’d come in person. Not here. The first time we met, it was in the dazzling light of the Crystal Keep, right at the core of Court of Sunlight. I was but a child, but already, I knew a predator when I saw one. I knew a fellow monster, too. A hundred years have passed, and nothing has changed at all. He wears layers of black, fashioned in a parody of a court outfit. He cannot fool me. His clothes are light and easy to move in, yet reinforced with spells and iron casts. This is a set of armor if I’ve ever seen one. His hair falls in waves, coating him in a golden halo. Of the number of weapons in his arsenal, his beauty is perhaps the most insidious. From the way he smiles at me as he saunters, there’s no doubt that he knows how to make use of it. “I see you’re tired of sending underlings for me to play with,” I say lightly, eyes closed. Rydekar chuckles. “They tell me you’re a tricky beast to hunt, precious. I thought I’d give it a try. I rather like the chase.” I don’t doubt it. “What do you want, Bane?” I will not call him king, highness, or anything of the sort. His dominion ends at the border of my woods. Rydekar is lord in the south, on unseelie territory. The Darker Woods are on seelie land, and answer to no one. No one except me. “What does any fae want?” “A beating heart for dinner? Endless, boundless entertainment? No, I know.” I glance down at him. “Better clothes. Well, I don’t share my tailor. Find your own.” His laugh is music, another trap meant to endear him to me. “Power, Rissa. I want more power.” I roll my eyes. “And you’ve come here to seek it?” I gesture around me, to the peaceful clearing. “Come down, precious.” His voice is sickly sweet, wrapping around me like a cloak. He aims to seduce me, and if I were any weaker, he might manage, too. Weaker, or stupider. “I’m quite content up here, thank you, Bane.” He sighs with a feigned sadness that makes me smile. “I would prefer not to be forced to make you obey me, Rissa, precious.” I laughs so hard I nearly fall off the branch. “Make me?” No one has ever made me do anything, not as a child, and certainly not now. Some tried. Pixie nurses, imp maids and an endless stream of tutors hired to bleed the wilderness out of me. That I now live alone in the woods shows just how proficient they were in their endeavor. “Make you,” he repeats, ever so softly. “I would prefer for us to have a partnership, if we could. But I’ll get what I’m here for either way.” “Will you, now?” I practically purr. He’s so very delightful. I haven’t had this much fun in an age. I do leap down from the tree, if only because I want him to regret asking for it. He saw me as a child in the Court of Sunlight, back when I hid the nightmare within me. There was only a hint of me showing through, back then. Now, I’m another creature. In the light of the moon, my complexion is sky blue, like that of a drowned corpse. The feathers grow right out of my shoulders, like the twisted twigs on my arms and legs. Back then, I wore long sleeves, hiding what I am as best I could. I’m dressed in a midnight spider silk so fine he might even see through it in this light. Rydekar’s violet eyes take me in, from my dirty, bare feet to my eyes, stopping on every feather, every thorn. Then he smiles, takes one step forward, and snatches my hand before I can recoil. “There you are, precious.” I’m so stunned I let go of my power, and feel the nightmare drain out of my skin. My hand is as warm as his, and has returned to the shade it dons when I’m not defending myself. It’s just like his. The twigs and flowers have retreated back inside my veins, and my feathers still. In this moment, I hate him. He’s taken my shield without any effort. “What do you want?” I repeat. This time, it sounds like a threat. Rydekar is done smiling. He’s dropped the pretense, his eyes flashing with a raw need. I am getting a glimpse of the monster beneath his mask. “You,” he tells me. “Where you belong.” I snatch my hand back. He dares? He dares! I’m about to lash out, pushing every drop of magic in my blood to maim him. He concludes his insult. “On the throne of Denarhelm.” “You’re a spineless, worthless waste of space.” He shrugs. “I’ve heard worse.” “Get out of my woods. I’ll gladly flay you alive if you stay.” And I mean every word, though killing him here would start a war. “Unlikely, but I’d enjoy your attempt.” Attempt? I could—and would—end him with little effort. I imagine freezing him in place and extracting every drop of pain and agony from his mind. “Alfheimr is raising an army, Rissa. Now that the strongest among us have left, we’re vulnerable. Hundreds of thousands of men are arming themselves, and they’ll march on your kingdom first. It’s easy pickings. I could claim it tomorrow if I so wished.” “There is no throne of Denarhelm,” I reply, gritting my teeth. The seelie kingdom has long been divided into the thirteen minor courts. The last high queen ruling over them all left the throne vacant for good reasons. While I do have her blood in my veins, even suggesting that I could claim it is preposterous—and cruel. The Court of Sunlight didn’t even want me to take my father’s place upon his passing. I hadn’t harbored any desire to rule, but the rejection had cut deep. The thirteen courts would never bow to me. I could make them, if I so wish. But I don’t. My lips hitch up an inch at the thought of forcing the thirteen courts to their knees. I’m so lost in my fantasy, I don’t see the hulking, slender man bending down to me until he whispers in my ear. “A divided kingdom without a leader is weak. You will fall. You will fail. You will all die without my kindness, little girl.” He expects me to falter, shiver, and drop my gaze to the ground, like the flock of gentry buzzing around him. My eyes widen in feigned dismay. “Kindness? Why did no one think to tell me you had any?” I have to allow him this one concession: Rydekar is fun to tease. He doesn’t even smile. I don’t think anyone has taunted him. “I have none. You will beg nonetheless.” I just may, in his dreams. And in my nightmares. “Get out of here,” I repeat. This time, to my surprise, he complies, walking back to his silver-white warhorse. “I’ve said my piece. When the time is right, send word. I’ll arrange for your coronation.” I’m confused and out of sorts. He’s leaving, after all this? I don’t understand him. What would he have to gain if I do as he wishes? Wanting a stronger enemy in the north doesn’t make sense. He looks back at me, and smiles one last time. “You were right, you know. I’ll steal your tailor.” That’s a promise and a threat. I don’t doubt he knows I make my own clothes. There’s no one else around, and nothing much else to do with my time. Without another word, the infuriating high king of the unseelie is gone. Stay up to date on teasers and teasers with The Curse Crown Facebook Group! About May Sage: May Sage is a USA Today Bestselling romance writer dabbling in different genres, although the readers who follow every series know they’re all related. When she isn’t writing, she spends her time with her German Shepherd, her two Savannahs, and her black rescue cat, in England. She loves reading, ballet, running, and cake. Mostly, cake. Follow her on Facebook or join her newsletter for the latest update. Connect with May Sage: Website | Facebook | Newsletter | Instagram Connect with Alexi Blake: Facebook | Twitter

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#SEO #Local SEO training

[sammiesinverno]

Congo I

Sammies Inverno: Congo I

In his dreams Sammy’s mom and dad came to him. His father was puffing a big pipe and his mother was looking at him in concern over the edge of her olive water glass. They said nothing but the disappointment was clear in their lives. His dad ashed by tapping the side of his pipe. “You know that Doctor Phil took your other kidney like the last time?” Hanging his head real sad he nodded. “I know. I hope he didn’t take to many of them.”

Sammy awoke in a bathtub packed with ice. He felt a fresh scar on his side. Looking around he saw he was in a big, scary, dark, mean looking tree place. From the tub he could see no way away from the place Doctor Phil had left him.

“Oh no, I am very afraid of all these woods!” It was hard to admit fear without any beer. But he did and maybe pee a bit. The was forest tough, wide, and serious, Just thinking about it made him wish for his normal underpass where he could be safe.

Bitter as bad candy corns, permanent dead sleep is little more; The good neat things he found there, Ask Sammy and he will tell you of all the cool things he saw.

Sammy had no clue how he got here let alone if he could or would want to get back here, At the moment, he was too full of very sleepy blood loss How ever he had gotten here the ways back to his nice warm underpass and it’s dog meat were gone.

Looking up he was clearly at the bottom of a big tall lots of rocks, much bigger than a hill, He was at the place where maybe a valley ended, All this worry was hurting his heart meat and also the stitches in his side,

Looking up he was clearly at the bottom of a big tall lots of rocks, much bigger than a hill,

He was at the place where maybe a valley ended,

All this worry was hurting his heart meat and also the stitches in his side,

Upward he looked, and he saw all the big wideness of the rocks,

The grey night sun’s rays was up there on the top of the rocks but not down here,

Which was not good because that light showed all the ways out of this big scary.

Eventuially it was less spooky

That in his heart meat’s shallow puddle he hid

During the dark time, which he had passed covered in his own pee juices for warmth.

And even as he, who, with non-trusty breaths,

like some guy yelling to a boat on the shore, like that time he got drunk in a rowboat,

Made him look at the place around him’s danger;

Sammy could feel his soul trying to get out of its work shift in making him live,

Turned itself around and looked at the clearing

and knew that nobody left Doctor Phil’s killing forest alive.

Sammy passed out and when he came to he felt like he had much more energy and blood inside him,

He got out and walked through the trees to a desert,

The ground sloped and the best, sturdiest, safest ground was lower.

Almost where his walking had started,

A big mean Golden Retreiver that was skinny from all it’s starving but real fast,

It’s fur had fallen away and it’s skin had big red blotches on it making it extra scary!

But it didn’t bite off his face,

No, it just kinda got in his way a lot,

so much that he had to walk and way and try to keep coming back.

The time was the beginning of the morning,  And up the sun was mounting with those stars  That with him were, what time the Love Divine At first in motion set those beauteous things;  So were to me occasion of good hope,  The variegated skin of that wild beast, The hour of time, and the delicious season;  But not so much, that did not give me fear  A lion's aspect which appeared to me. He seemed as if against me he were coming  With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,  So that it seemed the air was afraid of him; And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings  Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,  And many folk has caused to live forlorn! She brought upon me so much heaviness,  With the affright that from her aspect came,  That I the hope relinquished of the height. And as he is who willingly acquires,  And the time comes that causes him to lose,  Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent, E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,  Which, coming on against me by degrees  Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent. While I was rushing downward to the lowland,  Before mine eyes did one present himself,  Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse. When I beheld him in the desert vast,  "Have pity on me," unto him I cried,  "Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!" He answered me: "Not man; man once I was,  And both my parents were of Lombardy,  And Mantuans by country both of them. 'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late,  And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,  During the time of false and lying gods. A poet was I, and I sang that just  Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,  After that Ilion the superb was burned. But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?  Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable,  Which is the source and cause of every joy?" "Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain  Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?"  I made response to him with bashful forehead. "O, of the other poets honour and light,  Avail me the long study and great love  That have impelled me to explore thy volume! Thou art my master, and my author thou,  Thou art alone the one from whom I took  The beautiful style that has done honour to me. Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;  Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,  For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble." "Thee it behoves to take another road,"  Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,  "If from this savage place thou wouldst escape; Because this beast, at which thou criest out,  Suffers not any one to pass her way,  But so doth harass him, that she destroys him; And has a nature so malign and ruthless,  That never doth she glut her greedy will,  And after food is hungrier than before. Many the animals with whom she weds,  And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound  Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain. He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,  But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;  'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be; Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,  On whose account the maid Camilla died,  Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds; Through every city shall he hunt her down,  Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,  There from whence envy first did let her loose. Therefore I think and judge it for thy best  Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,  And lead thee hence through the eternal place, Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,  Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,  Who cry out each one for the second death; And thou shalt see those who contented are  Within the fire, because they hope to come,  Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people; To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,  A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;  With her at my departure I will leave thee; Because that Emperor, who reigns above,  In that I was rebellious to his law,  Wills that through me none come into his city. He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;  There is his city and his lofty throne;  O happy he whom thereto he elects!" And I to him: "Poet, I thee entreat,  By that same God whom thou didst never know,  So that I may escape this woe and worse, Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,  That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,  And those thou makest so disconsolate." Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.