#aric vernersson

[cela-astral-projection]

#the arcana game #the arcana #oc #muriel #mc #Aedan #aedan vernersson #aric vernersson

[cela-astral-projection]

Cela and Aedan by Tayana Mcconico (found in a Facebook group, not sure if she has a tumblr)

#the arcana #oc #mc #apprentice celeste #celeste #aric vernersson #Cela Evisdottir #arcana apprentice #commission #art #Cela #the arcana game #aric #linnea

[cela-astral-projection]

#my babies #ocs #aedan vernersson #celeste evisdottir #make your own apprentice #icon maker #picrew #aric vernersson

[cela-astral-projection]

And the Ghosts that we knew will flicker from view. And we’ll live a long life.

I don’t know if I ever posted this here, but it’s still one of my favorite pieces of writing about Cela and Aedan. 

---

Her fingers traced the letters. Chiseled in chilled, indifferent granite. One of the thousands of names. It may not have been possible, under any circumstances, to build a memorial Vesuvians would consider sufficiently respectful to the victims and their families, and it had indeed been a divisive project. It was somber and refined. But it was no grave.

Celeste had seen the actual grave—the ashen shoreline of the Lazaret. The crematory serving as an ominous headstone. By contrast, the walls of names were much more palatable, if coldly reserved, by comparison to the untreated desolation of the bone-riddled coast. This monument so far removed from the agonizing, limitless sorrow of the crisis, still so visceral after all this time.

She had no memory of the plague, personally. No consciousness of the time before. And yet, she was a singular representative of that event. A bizarre survivor. Revered by some and resented by others.

She could feel the eyes, even now. Celeste, The Restored. Celeste, The Savior of Vesuvia. Celeste, The Apprentice. Titles begrudgingly earned or granted.

She wondered if he would have handled it with more grace -- Been a better steward of these designations. By all accounts, the Captain of the Guard had been well-loved by the people. An endlessly altruistic and compassionate man. Hearty and benign. When he succumbed to the illness, it had been held as an omen. If he could be reaped, then none were exempt.

Aric Vernersson had not passed through the flames of the Lazaret's retorts. He had passed away in his bed. In pain, burning with fever. His healthy body failing at a frenetic velocity that medicine or sorcery could not still. And when he succumbed, his corpse was quietly swept away. Held in mystic stasis for Lucio's failed ritual.

Celeste thought, morbidly, that she served as her brother's tomb. His flesh reclaimed to return her to the material plane -- the vessel for Asra's magic. When her dreams turned dark, she envisaged decay—the mortal form rending. The flesh failing, disintegrating. They said his heart was with the sea. She dreamed of returning to the cold, fathomless depths and dissolving into sea foam.

When she was more optimistic, she speculated that perhaps Aric would willingly give his body to her. That he would be pleased to see her whole. Bringing life into the world. Maybe he would be sorrowful that she had no memory of him but glad to see her carrying on for the both of them. He wouldn't want her to be aggrieved for him.

It was impossible to know. All that remained of Vesuvia's beloved son were the fading recollections from their collective consciousness. A name on a stone. And yet, she still felt woefully inadequate by comparison to the lustrous beacon of his existence. Why should she be given such a generous offering of life, and he was so easily slipping into obscurity?

She suspected that it would be the transcendent enigma that would torment and bolster her for the rest of her days. How should she live a life worthy of two souls?

#Celeste Evisdottir #Aric Vernersson #ficlet #the arcana

[cela-astral-projection]

Ask Aedan.

You an ask my male OC Aric “Aedan” Vernersson stuff. 

He’s a good boy. Lots of fun. 

Also this is low effort. 

#ask aedan #OC asks #fan apprentice #my dumb son #oc aedan #Aedan #aedan vernersson #the arcana apprentice #gentapprentice #aric vernersson

[cela-astral-projection]

Aedan, what's your relationship with Lucio like?

We’re very much like siblings. I love him, but I can’t lie and say that he hasn’t hurt me. 

I wish he were more responsive to the people who want to see him do better, and that he was more responsible for his actions. His attitude that his past mistakes were just “oopsies” really frustrates the fuck out of me. 

He’ll always be my cousin, and I’m rooting for him. I wish that we could be close -- that’s what I always wanted since I was little and first met my cool, older cousin. A lot of the shine wore off when I saw just how poorly he behaves and how badly others have been hurt by him. 

For now, I can only be there when he needs a friend. But, I refuse to enable him anymore. 

#oc aedan #ask aedan #aric #aric vernersson #aedan vernersson #Aedan #gentapprentice

[cela-astral-projection]

I don’t have the skill to draw it but if Cela and Aedan were Nagas...California Red Sided Garter Snakes. 

#naga au #arcana #oc celeste #oc aedan #snake #garter snakes #california red-sided garter snakes #arcana au #the arcana #celeste #aric vernersson #naga

[cela-astral-projection]

A falcon sits on the balcony of the Magician’s shop, A small package tied around its leg, a scroll attached to the gift. 

Asra finds the bird and is a little alarmed. A palace falcon? He calls out to Rhea, perplexed. 

@thephoenixmagician

#aedan #aric vernersson #valentines asks

[cela-astral-projection]

I decided to redo this now that I have my kids pretty much fully fleshed out. Top is Aedan/Aric and bottom is Celeste/Linnea. 

#character creation #fan apprentice #apprentice oc #oc non-apprentice #the arcana apprentice #arcana apprentice #the arcana game #the arcana #oc apprentice #oc #mc #aric and linnea #aric vernersson #linnea #aedan #character aesthetics #character development

[cela-astral-projection]

Aedan, what's your dream job? Also, would you ever go back to your hometown? Or is Vesuvia your new forever home?

My dream job is owning a landscape design and floral supply company focusing on native flora and sustainable, eco-friendly design.

My hometown, Santa Vedra, was on the Frozen Sea. And while it is a place that I will always love most dearly, I don't see making it a permanent residence again. After my tribe was decimated by the plague, I think it would be too difficult, emotionally, to return.

I don’t know if I’ll stay in Vesuvia forever. It depends on where my family ends up, really. I do want to be part of making it a better place while I’m here. 

#gentapprentice #oc aedan #Aedan #aedan vernersson #aric #aric vernersson

[cela-astral-projection]

Dearest Aedan, out of pure, unadulterated curiosity, what is your favourite weapon? -

War Hammer. 😉 

#ask aedan #oc asks #aedan vernersson #aric vernersson #aedan #gentapprentice

[cela-astral-projection]

In an AU where Aedan survives the plague, what would his relationship be like with Asra and Muriel?

The best in-laws a guy could ask for.

Asra is a great travel companion. I love hitting the road with him and having bonding time, just the two of us. I like to think I'm a worldly person, but Asra shows me things that I never even dreamed of. And I came into my own powers, he was a great teacher, helping me learn how to harness and control my abilities.

Muriel is a rock. He's my fishing buddy. Helped me get my floral supply business off the ground by running the farm. Things were initially a little rocky -- I don't think he was comfortable with me, because of how long I spent in Lucio's orbit, but after we got over that awkward patch, things were great.

Overall, I love them both. And most of all, they take care of my sister and my nieces. They're family, and they'd do anything for me, and I'd do anything for them.

#oc aedan #oc asks #aric vernersson #aedan vernersson #ask aedan #gentapprentice

[cela-astral-projection]

For some reason this looks really grainy but HERE’S YA’LL MAN.

 I wish this David Kawena had more doll makers because this one rocks. https://www.dolldivine.com/prince-maker.php

And here’s another (less fun) doll maker for both of ‘em 

#aedan #aric vernersson #oc #dollmaker #mc #arcana oc #arcana #fan apprentice #arcana character #character creation #apprentice celeste #the twins #apprentice oc #aric and linnea

[cela-astral-projection]

Aric Vernersson / Aedan 

Where do they live?: He lived in a fishing village with his parents and sister. Now, he lives in the palace. 

Is your character considered plain, ugly, beautiful? Would the character agree with this assessment? He's a handsome son-of-a-bitch. Just ask him. 

Does your character lose a parent/caregiver?: He had to leave his family when his cousin, Morga, sent Linnea and himself to look out for Montag. Eventually, they will succumb to the plague, along with most of their village and extended family. 

Does something else happen that changes everything for him or her?: Serving under Lucio. 

How old is your character when this happens?: He was 18 when he was sent to Vesuvia. He serves under Lucio for 6 years and dies just before his 25th birthday. 

How does this affect the character?: He had to give up most of his passions and learn how to be subservient and structured. 

Does his or her social status change during childhood? If it does, why does this happen and how does it affect the character?: He was used to being a member of a tribe. It was a hell of a culture shock. Thankfully, his father had always been a storyteller, so he knew how things were outside of the village, and they did travel some. But, Vesuvia is a whole other ball of wax. Being part of Lucio's inner circle is very insulating and lonely, but he finds ways of making fast friends. 

What is your character’s relationship with his or her caregivers like?: He adored his father, who taught him what it was to be a decent man and to be giving to others and see the beauty in the world. His mother was his strength and always pushed him to learn and observe, and how to treat people with dignity and grace. 

Who does your character love most?: He loves his sister, but the nature of their arrangement doesn't allow them to be near one another often. He loves Lucio like a brother, but Lucio's head is pretty far up his own ass. There's a couple girls that work in the kitchen that he doesn't mind spending time with, especially when they can make it a...group activity. 

Is he or she popular?: Yep. He is fortunate to be well compensated for his time and efforts with Lucio, which isn't afforded all palace staff. He likes to share his good fortune with the underserved in town, making sure that the dock kids have something hot to eat or clean to wear. He can't do much, and it's all very hush-hush so word doesn't get back to Lucio. He also likes to bring gifts to the other staff. Flowers, jewelry, sweets. Even for the courtiers, to keep in their good graces, though they scare the ever-loving fuck out of him. He also likes to bring Lucio spiced cookies, the thin ginger ones, like dad made, from their family recipe. 

What interests, hobbies, and sports does your character enjoy?: He loves fishing and he's a hell of a hunter. Lucio gifted him a hunting dog on his 20th birthday, like Mercedes and Melchior, but with brown patches. He thinks the gladiator matches are amazing but doesn't care for how they treat that poor Scourge fellow in the slightest. 

What is the character’s greatest fear?: That he'll never be able to reach Lucio and that something will go wrong. Valdemar is also nightmare fuel. 

Did your character complete his or her education?: He never had a formal education. 

What does your character do for a living?: Royal guard. Professional bro. 

 What goals does your character have?: He might settle down with a nice girl, someday. Maybe. For now, Lucio is a full-time job. 

Is your character in a relationship?: Nope. 

How many times has he or she been ‘in love’? How have these people influenced the character?: He thinks people rush to "love" way too fast. His parents had an arranged marriage of sorts and they worked out fine.

How do they see the world?: The world is awesome. I mean, have you seen it? Fucking growing stuff and water and fish and birds. Shit's incredible. People are pretty cool and most of them are nice. 

Is your character independent?: Not really. He likes people. People like him. 

Does he or she live alone or with somebody?: He lives in the palace. There's always someone nearby. 

Does your character have children?: Nope. 

What is your character’s favorite quotation?: Friendship needs no words — it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness.

Does he or she have a motto?: Life is an awful, ugly place to not have a best friend.

#oc #mc #arcana #non-apprentice #aric #aric vernersson #character creation #aedan #oc non-apprentice #the arcana #count lucio #the arcana lucio #montag morgasson #character development #character aesthetics

[cela-astral-projection]

Aedan and Celeste HC

When Verner and Evi took the kids traveling around the Southern tribes when they were little-little chances are pretty good they would have played with Muriel at one point or another before he got taken to Vesuvia. 

Probably more Aedan than Celeste because he would be like “I wanna wrestle the big one” and Celeste would have been like...”I’m gonna play House by myself. Later dayz.” 

Cuter when little Muriel gets annoyed with the little blonde kid that keeps trying to knock him over and goes to play with the little girl having a tea party by herself. So, she gladly informs him that he’s her husband now and he is just like...Okay?????

#oc headcanons #muriel headcanons #little babies #arcana headcanons #apprentice oc #fan apprentice #oc #mc #oc celeste #oc aedan #aric vernersson #aric and linnea #muriel #arcana #the arcana game #the arcana muriel #the arcana #pre canon

[cela-astral-projection]

You saw my pain, washed out in the rain Broken glass, saw the blood run from my veins But you saw no fault no cracks in my heart And you knelt beside my hope torn apart But the ghosts that we knew will flicker from you And we'll live a long life

Celeste woke in the early morning. The sky was starting to lighten. She felt sore all over. Hungry. Her back was cold, but her chest was slick with sweat, from being gathered into Muriel's arms all through the night. Sleep out here in the wild was never entirely restful. It never seemed like enough. Even laying in the comfort of each other's embrace was no substantial relief at this point.

Muriel was still entirely unconscious. Celeste moved in his arms, and he tightened his grasp around her. She smiled against his chest and tickled her fingers up his side. He flinched under the touch and blinked his eyes open, getting his bearings, clearing his throat.

As soon as he realized how close they were, and that he was, again, erect in his sleep, he immediately released her and rolled away. His cheeks burning scarlet, gathering his cloak around him. That was routine at this point. They would pass out, huddled together for warmth, and he'd wake up, have a moment of panic, and let her go.

Celeste fought to stifle an eye roll at his blush. At this point, there was little of him that she hadn't seen, just out of sheer proximity and the number of hours they had spent in the elements. There was no privacy here. It wasn't the first morning Celeste had woken up with his cock, half-hard, pressed against her belly. And, though it never ceased to be a thrill, she knew it was merely physiology. And, even if it weren't, neither of them were in a position to do one goddamn thing about it. Physically. Mentally. They were spent.

She sat up beside Muriel and winced. She missed home. She missed Asra. She missed Julian. But, she missed her bed most of all. She put her hands at her back and twisted at the waist, listening to the vertebrae pop and crackle.

Muriel made a noise of sympathy, pained by the sounds emitting from her spine and reached a hand out, smoothing it along her back.

His hands were large and warm. And it was some small comfort. It wasn't a massage, by any means, but Celeste appreciated the gesture, leaning into the touch.

It never ceased to amaze her, how gentle he could be, and then how he would vacillate back into himself and withdraw entirely. But, when he was affectionate (well, as "affectionate" as he could bring himself to be), Muriel always seemed to know exactly where to touch. How she fit against him.

After a while, Muriel lapsed back into sleep, his hand falling away.

Celeste sat, eyes closed, listening to the sound of his breathing. Then, she was startled by a sharp rap at her hip. She flinched and swore, then looked up.

Morga. Of course.

The older woman crooked her finger at her, silent, beckoning her to follow. Celeste made a noise of exasperation, but pushed up off the ground, knees cracking. Muscles stiff. Muriel stirred, opening one eye. Celeste looked down at him and made a dismissive gesture with her hand, letting him know it was okay to rest. Morga made a snorting noise, opening her mouth, presumably to give commands. Celeste shot her a hard look. "Leave him be," she said, low.

Morga cocked an eyebrow, but relented, turning and striding away. Celeste was shocked that had worked, and felt a little surge of self-satisfaction. She followed after Morga, dragging a hand through her sleep-mussed hair and drawing a cloak around her shoulders.

When they were a reasonable distance away from their makeshift camp, Morga stopped, looking out across the fields that stretched on and on before them. Celeste fell in beside her, looking at her from the corner of her eye.

"You're going to have to stop coddling him." Morga started, her jaw set. "You need to take care of yourself, Girl. And he needs to learn how to stand on his own, too."

Celeste sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're doing everything you ask. I know you want him to push his humanity down and be a juggernaut..but he isn't.  I'm not. We aren't warriors. If you wanted fighters, there were plenty of better options." she bit out.

Morga scoffed. She was more like Verner than she had hoped. Morga had prayed, somewhere, deep down, she had their tribe's warrior spirit. But, Linnea had no such compulsion. She could manage well enough with her magical arrows, and she was fair to middling at sparring. But her heart wasn't in it. It was all just preformative, following along, trying to get to the end. She didn't seem to grasp what that end could look like. She was running headlong into death, and it wasn't sinking in.

Morga had asked Verner if they would return to the fold. She wanted the children. She had first seen them when they were teenagers, nearly adults. Little Linnea, an accomplished healer by any stretch, and with magic. She could have been formidable. Aric, a hunter, and trapper who could withstand harsh terrains and had the hearts of his people. A born leader. They would have been trainable. They would have come to heel. They would have been obedient. 

But Verner had refused her. And, perhaps out of spite, but certainly from desperation, she had made him promise to send them to the city to monitor Montag. And they had. For years, they were around the palace, waiting, listening, trying to stay undetected. And all of it had come to naught. Aric had died. Linnea had died. Montag had died.

But now, Little Linnea was here. Back from death. A walking miracle.  Sometimes it startled Morga. Especially on days like this, under an overcast sky, when her green eyes reflected silver. When the pale blonde strands framed her face. When she set her jaw and pressed her lips into a line, Morga saw herself. The young, soft version of herself.

If Morga allowed herself to steal a thought, it would often drift to what might have been. More than just blood. A daughter. Someone to bring up in her own image.  Of course, Linnea had a mother. Morga had only met the woman once, and that had ended about as poorly as one could imagine. And, when she had collected Aric and Linnea, she had hoped to step in as a surrogate mother figure.

Linnea had always been resistant to Morga. Aric, though he had been saddened at first, had been up to the challenge. Excited, even. He reminded her of Montag. But he was more helpful. More engaging. Responsive. Enthusiastic about learning. He called her "Auntie" and would not be dissuaded from doing so.  When she left them, on the outskirts of the city, he had completely caught her off guard by sweeping her into a bear hug, telling her that he wouldn't let her down.

Linnea, by contrast, said that if she never saw her again, it would be too soon.

And now Celeste remembered none of that. She didn't remember the long journey to Vesuvia. Nearly the same route they were taking now, just in the opposite direction. And for the same reason. To keep people safe from Montag. To keep Montag safe from himself.

And Morga wanted to tell her. To tell her the whole sorry story. Make her understand why this time, they could not fail. That they had to be united. The same fervor. The same hardness. They had to be a unit, fighting together against Lucio.

Morga had come into the city, once, after the plague had abated. Having heard tales that there had been a resurrection. A palace healer brought back from death. When Morga found her, barely able to speak, fiddling with herbs in the magician's shop, she had wanted to take her then. To heal her. Teach her their ways. Reclaim her. But she had been so frail, so addled. She would not have survived, then.

She might, now. If she would just put forth a little bit of effort. If they worked together.

"You have to be harder. You have to do better. You don't understand what you're up against." Morga said, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure anyone could possibly fathom what it is that we're up against. I don't know that anyone is quite prepared for this. You have very high expectations for me. I mean..." Celeste sighed. "I know how you could project certain things on Muriel. Clearly, you have a rudimentary knowledge of his history. But, you also have to understand that it wasn't passion and bloodlust that lead him to do what he did. He was a slave. A slave to your son. Who is a demonic ghost now. Lest you've forgotten." Celeste ran her tongue along her teeth, trying to find the words. "If there is anyone in the world who should want to put Lucio down, it's Muriel. But, this isn't Lucio. This is some demented half-formed thing that's working at the behest of or in conjunction with the Devil."

Celeste drew a deep breath. "We are resilient. We'll figure it out. We'll keep training. But we're not you. We aren't going to be you. You have to manage your expectations. We're going to follow you, but...I'm not going to let you break him. He deserves to not spend his life waiting for the next battle. He deserves peace. So, for now, if I can take a quiet moment and keep him centered, I'm going to. And if it has to be him or me...I volunteer myself. I can take it. You can beat me down. But, you have to build him up."

Morga turned to her, eyes narrowed. "There's no time to hold his hand and wait for him to come around, Girl. He needs to be prepared to do what must be done. If I can't, it will fall to you. It will fall to him. I need you ready."

Celeste whirled back on her. "I need you to understand that if I didn't get that, our asses would be back in Vesuvia weeks ago. I don't think a single one of us is having a good time. If I didn't know how dire this situation is, I would be gone. But I'm here, dragging myself over all of creation for this stupid son-of-a-bitch. Emphasis on bitch. Because you are no fuckin' treat, lady."

"You'd do well to hold your tongue, girl," Morga warned, snarling.

"Or what, you're gonna kick my ass? Have me draining my magic for eight hours, making practice arrows while you drag us along towards what sounds to be certain doom? Listen to you berate and belittle both of us because there's some unreachable goal we're never going to come close to?" Celeste slapped the back of her hand against the opposite palm with each point for emphasis. "I run a shop, lady!  I am so far outside the realm of shit I ever expected to have to give a fuck about that I don't even know where to begin most days. But I'm out here doing the fuckin' thing. Give me a goddamn break."

Morga was equally pissed and impressed. It was a rare day that someone decided to take her to task. For the first time in years, she wanted to crack. Since Montag. Since Verner.  "There's no time to give you a goddamn break, Celeste. We have to keep moving. You must be ready to fight. There is no time for sentimentality. Do you want to go home to your shop? To your magician? Do you want any chance with that man back there? Because this is what everything hinges on. Everything."

"Yeah, everything. Everything hinges on finding the Fugitive Doctor. Everything hinges on finding out what happened to Lucio. Everything hinges on stopping Lucio. If you think this is my first tangle with what 'everything' hinges on, you are sadly mistaken." Celeste said, somber. "But, this time, I don't know that even with all the planning, preparation, and resolve in the world...that any of it is going to matter. This is the first time I really believe it. That everything hinges on this. And I don't know that any of us, even you, are going to be able to pull it off. I've never questioned myself like this. I always knew that if I just made the right choice. Said the right thing...that it would all be okay in the end. I don't think this will be okay, Morga. I don't."

"So, you will give up? Let him win?" Morga challenged, incredulous. "You're just as defeated as that boy is. He's making you soft."

Celeste threw her hands up, spluttering for a moment. "Okay? Yeah, he makes me soft. Despite all of this bullshit, he makes me soft. He gives me peace. And I hope I can give him peace, too. I hope that for once in his life, he feels like someone really loves him. Because I do. I love him."

"And it will kill you." Morga bit back. Lutz. Verner. Montag. Aric. Everyone she had ever loved. Dead. Even Linnea, standing in front of her, eyes flashing gold to grey in the dim morning light. Every hope she ever had for her, lost. Given away. They had another chance, now. And Celeste was squandering it.

"Based on what? Your experience with your fucking son? Yeah, very goddamn likely that your kid is going to put us all in the ground. If we're lucky." Celeste spat. "So, before we take the fucking of a lifetime, I'd like to just not have to deal with this bullshit for one goddamn day. Please." Celeste made to walk away, but Morga caught her arm, wrenching her back.

"He was my son. And I loved him." Morga said, low. But there was no venom in it. Pain. Remorse. 

Celeste scoffed and roughly extracted her arm from Morga's grasp. "What does your love look like, Morga? If it's the compassion and care I've been privy to, it's no goddamn wonder we're in this mess," she said, finally, and strode away, back towards camp.

She was halfway back to Muriel when she started realizing that it had been a mistake. They still had to follow Morga, and Gods only knew how long. She drew a sharp intake of breath, pulling a face, but she didn't break stride. Almost anticipating a rap over the head with Morga's staff.

Muriel had been watching the whole scene from a distance. And he had the good fortune of being downwind from them, and their voices had carried.

As soon as Celeste was close enough to see the expression on his face, she winced. "So, all of it, then?"

He nodded. "A few things got lost on the breeze, but I got the gist."

"More of the same, really. We're just rehashing the same argument we have every day." Celeste said, moving to grab the satchel that had their food supplies.

Except, Muriel thought, the part where you told her that you were in love with me.

Celeste was thinking along the same lines, and it was her turn to blush, busying her hands by making breakfast. Running the conversation over her head over and over again.

Then, once the adrenaline wore off, she was crouched by the fire, sniffling, swiping her hand across her eyes, fighting off tears.

Celeste sat back onto the cold ground, head in her hands. She didn't consider herself to be a cruel person. It was just that she was so very, very done. She wanted to go home.

Muriel had been straightening up, packing, putting away their bedroll, when he heard her lapse into sobs. He turned and saw her, knees drawn up to her chest, her body shaking.

He approached her slowly and crouched behind her. He wasn't quite sure how to proceed. He knew how he might have once. Before. But that was years ago. Before he had locked himself away. With only memories of what it felt like to touch her. To love her. Fading with each passing year. He wasn't the same man.

But seeing her like this. Hearing her declaration of love. He wanted to be that man for her again. The one that held her and kept her and loved her.

He just wasn't sure how.

She had once stood before him, her hand at her temple, and spoke a simple word. "Broken." He thought he had grasped the concept at the time. But, now, he knew that he didn't understand at all. What it meant to have your mind warped and destroyed, things you can't access just below the surface. He hadn’t the faintest idea what she was describing before. Now that he lived it, he couldn’t imagine how she managed to bring herself out of it.

At nights, when she would lay in his arms, he could almost reach it. The smell of her. The noises she would make in her sleep. The way she would roll into his body. Soft, warm, round comfort in the cold dark night. When he knew she was well asleep, he would press his lips against her scalp. Whisper words of love, when he knew she was too far away in dreams to hear him. 

She still loved him. She always loved him. Just as impossible as it had been every time it was revealed to him. 

He tentatively reached a hand out and placed it on her shoulder. Celeste, in the throes of her grief, actually gave a laugh, bringing one hand to rest over his.

Muriel sighed. If he were whole, he could give more to her than this. She deserved to be held and kissed and told that it would be okay. He just...couldn't. This would have to be enough. And it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for her. It wasn't enough for him.

After a while, her breathing slowed. Though the breaths were shaky, she was coming down.

Muriel released her shoulder and came to sit at her side. They sat in companionable silence for a while. Muriel served their breakfast. It was simple. Brothy soup and hardtack. They ate, cleaned up, packed up, and started off in the direction Morga had left in. The same route they had been traveling for weeks.

When dusk fell, they made camp again. A small fire. Bedroll. Lackluster meal. Morga rejoined them and was silent. She took her meal and retreated to her post. When darkness fell, Muriel lay down for bed.

"I'll be there in a minute," Celeste told him.

Morga was on alert, as per usual, looking out for any threats. She heard Celeste coming, but not turn to see to her. Still hurt.

Celeste hung back for a moment, gathering her courage. She drew a breath and sighed. "I am sorry, Morga. I spoke harshly and from a place of frustration." she offered. "We are with you to...whatever end we're going to meet. None of this is on you."

Morga cast her eyes down for a moment, but she did not turn.

Celeste stood quiet for a moment longer, watching the older woman. When it was clear that Morga did not intend to acknowledge her, she made to go, but she couldn't quite bring herself to move away. She felt something in her mind shift, and her eyes rolled back, then fluttered shut.

Morga flinched and nearly moved to strike when she felt arms encircling her waist, squeezing her tight. She stiffened, trying to turn in the embrace. "What in the hell are you doing?" she barked, thoroughly caught off guard.

When she looked back, she saw Celeste, but with soft grey eyes. Not a trick of the light. Not her eyes.

"We won't let you down, Auntie! Promise." a deep, male voice came from her throat. They gave a playful wink. "I love that dumb son of a bitch, but it's just about time someone kicked Monty's ass, doncha think?"

Aric.

And as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

Celeste blinked, eyes going back to green. She realized that she was hugging Morga and recoiled quickly.

"I...Sorry?" Celeste stammered, confused. 

Morga's eyes were wide, looking her over. Petrified. 

"I got nothing," Celeste said, backing away. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

#fanfiction #fanfic #the arcana #the arcana game #arcana #apprentice x muriel #reader x muriel #apprentice oc #apprentice celeste #morga eirsdottir #aric vernersson #oc #mc