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mareenavee · 10 months

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WIP Whenever~

Happy middle-of-the-week, everyone! I hope the writing's been good. I finished two whole fics this week. (Small, but still good.) Started on another, while getting about idk 1/3 of the way through chapter 27. That's what I'm going to share today! But first, tagging the most esteemed: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn (I have to know what's next lol), @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @rhiannon1199, @snippetsrus, @saltymaplesyrup and @archangelsunited -- If you aren't tagged, consider yourself tagged, and tag me back so I can see what you've got! Without further ado, here's a section of chaos from chapter 27 of The World on Our Shoulders.

Teldryn sat on the edge of Neloth’s bed, cradling a mug of canis root tea. His skin still stung from the constant prodding and scraping to check for any remnants of the blasted Stalhrim. He was still anxious, if he was being honest. It made it hard to stay asleep. Tel Mithryn was almost unnaturally quiet, except for the low hum of the Levitation Runes and the rapid flipping of pages. At the moment, Neloth was poring over a collection of tomes while everyone else was sleeping. It couldn’t be long before dawn now. The perfect hour, really, for negative thoughts to swirl around unmitigated. He sighed and sipped his tea.

To make things worse, Nyenna still hadn’t been able to maintain consciousness for long, despite all Neloth was doing to help her. He’d theorized something about swelling in her brain combined with a disruption of the flow of Magicka through her body. It was as if the rebounded Shout had somehow broken her mind in more ways than one. The implications of that alone had him thanking Azura he’d even survived the Shout he’d gotten caught up in during that first fight by her side. He’d already decided he’d never underestimate her again, but now… Was it a death wish to stand so close to such power? Did that matter, in the end? He looked down at Nyenna now, sleeping peacefully, hair a tangled mess against the pillow, stress gone from her brow. It didn’t matter, come to think of it. It wouldn’t be right to leave and let her figure this all out on her own. She was a risk, but one he’d probably stick by until time itself came unraveled, Gods willing. He stopped mid-sip at the realization. Best if he didn’t exactly say that aloud, all things considered.

Neloth sighed heavily at his desk and swore in Dunmeris, his tone more exasperated despite keeping relatively quiet. Teldryn wasn’t sure how much of a healer he really was; even though he’d done incredible work after the Red Year, his personality sort of conflicted with the basic tenants of Restoration magic. To his credit, he did at least seem rather concerned and had even set aside the Stalhrim to study Nyenna’s condition. He’d even forced Talvas, his assistant, to drop all his projects and papers to help. The boy was passed out on his own desk in the other part of the room, exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up to him. Varlais, too, had tried to help but ended up in more of a glorified servant’s role. He wasn’t really the thinking type, as Neloth had frustratingly come to find out. Teldryn had, of course, already known.

Teldryn did the best he could with his own Healing and Calm spells. He’d offered to go get Aphia from Raven Rock, but Neloth insisted he knew more than any other Mer in a thousand-mile radius. While that was likely true, there really was no downside to having an extra pair of hands. It was just as well…the debt he’d racked up with the grand soul gems wasted on Teleportation spells outshone his earnings from the last half-year at this point. He likely wouldn’t have to pay it back, except in insults and reminders of how heroic Neloth had acted. This would go on for the rest of existence, an inside joke turned into exhaustion in no time at all. But that was just how the old wizard had always been. And to be fair, he’d pay that cost again and again if it meant helping anyone after what they’d all been through, Nyenna especially so.

To Neloth’s other point, Nyenna’s Magicka was not loud now, not like it usually was. It hadn’t been for a few days, though whatever the affliction, it was at least healing. There was a huge difference from when he’d dragged her out of the Atronach’s lair. Then, it had been almost non-existent, barely registering at all. She was so pale. She seemed so fragile. She’d been speaking in frantic Dovahzul, almost as if possessed. And her eyes… Gods, but… It was too difficult to recall that particular memory. He swallowed hard against the fresh wave of horror. He’d been terrified. He’d lived long enough now that few things were capable of even surprising him — but this whole situation had been almost too much. Not quite as bad as Red Mountain, despite the similar wrongness in the warp and weft of the place he’d felt, and the way their feet all had been moving of their own accord toward the danger. But it had been close. Living in the aftermath of that fight left him feeling somewhat hollow where fear had burned everything else away.

Unnerved, Teldryn sipped his tea and looked at her as she slept. It’d been a whole day since the last nightmare, so this peace was progress. As he’d done a hundred times in the last span of days, he reached out and brushed some of her curls out of her eyes. That power of hers was still there, like a shock under her skin, though dulled. He had hope, though, despite everything. Even in the void left behind by all the recent chaos, she gave him hope. He didn’t quite know how to tell her that without breaking unspoken rules.

#MareenaWrites #Teldryn Sero #Nyenna #The World on Our Shoulders #LDB/Teldryn Sero #Neloth #Skyrim #TES #tesblr #elder scrolls #skyrim fic #skyrim fanfiction #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr #WIP Whenever #WIP wednesdays #WIP

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Azriel x reader - enemies to mututals. LONGER - Peregryn Reader and Az go on a mission together. Comebacks, snark and injuries. - azriel taking care of hurt reader.

Send me requests please!

Not a soul dared step in your way as you plowed through the war camp. "You will not be flying anywhere." You shouted over the murmuring group. Rhys' inner circle whipped their heads to you. Cassian's hand went to the dagger at his side instantaneously. You felt the spymasters shadows curling around your ankles.

"You challenge me, I'm impressed." Rhys smiled like a cat, pushing off the table littered with pawns and a map of the region. Azriel's shadows curled further up your legs, taking the hint from his high lord. "Your spymasters eyes and ears seem to be doing an inadequate job." You said with distaste, glaring at Azriel. You tucked your feathered wings in tight, tension in the room spiking. Darkness flared, Azriels' shadows spiking over your legs, swirling angrily.

Rhysand considered for a moment. None of the eyes left you. You dared not look away from the high lord. The piercing eyes of The Morrigan burned into you. Her silver armor shone even in the dull tent. "Leave us." He said at last, with a wave of his hand. His counterparts glanced at him, before obeying and walking out.

Azriel stayed put, the shadows still circling the room like a fog.

"I don't like being insulted, Peregryn." Azriel growled, his wings twitching.

"I dont like dying, Illyrian." You countered. His face twisted in disgust. Rhysand sighed, taking a seat at the head of the table. You felt his aura inside your head, asking, tempting. They knew not many were a fan of their court, but so far you could really see the WHY behind it.

"I understand you're a part of a different court but we are here fighting together against this threat." He spoke aloud, you felt his presence recede from your mind. "If you don't want me to see what you have seen, how am I to know to trust you?" He smiled wickedly, as if he knew you would never let him in to your head. True, the night court and autumn court were not on the friendliest of terms. Especially after Thesan had made a public enemy of you for abandoning his court to help in the fight on the continent.

"I understand fully that we are different courts, with different ideals working together. Perhaps your generals don't though." You nodded out the open flap of the tent. "Why my forces are going in first when there's an aerial threat beyond the border to Rask is beyond me. Perhaps you could explain." You said sweetly, pulling out the chair at the opposite end of the table and sitting. Azriel remained standing, his presence looming. He glanced toward Rhys, and they seemed to have a silent conversation in the looks alone. You had no doubt that he and the high lord were speaking mind to mind.

"I can assure you there was no ill intent behind it." Rhys muttered, his eyes held no trace of lies. He had no tell , no body language that would suggest other wise as he spoke plainly. "As for the aerial threat, I will find Azriel here sees to it. If you are willing to help, of course." He swirled the glass of wine on the table, taking a sip. Azriel's face went a bit red. Likely mentally shouting at the high lord. "You understand, this assures I can trust your word and you're not trying-" He took a breath, humming as he let it out. Considering. Or putting on a show. It was hard to tell what face of him was the genuine one. "Well if you would let me in I guess I would know if you had any.. intentions."

The silence seemed electrifying, Azriels shadows were swirling faster, whispering over his shoulder into his ear. His hair moved slightly in the presence of them. His siphons glowed, despite no direct threat.

You stood slowly, standing tall in the presence of the two. "You know where my tent is, Shadowsinger." His face revealed nothing at your words. Rhysand saluted you mockingly. Chin held high, you strode out of the tent.

+ As soon as the sun had dipped below the treeline enough to cast shadows through the forest Azriel had appeared at your tent. The temperature seemed to dip slightly at his presence. "If you're ready we can go." He said, voice plain outside your flap door.

"And why wouldn't I be ready, shadowmaster?" You said with a charming smile, hoping it annoyed him. While pulling on your light armor, you stalked past him and to the edge of the forest. He seemed stunned momentarily, but caught up quickly. He matched your pace with ease.

The hilly terrain made for an interesting forest pattern, but the area you remembered spotting the archers and arterillary trebuchets was very obvious. You dared not fly, with your wings so light colored against the darkened sky. "We're walking?" He asked, his wings flaring. You crunched through the brush that lined the forest edge.

"It's an aerial capture unit. They'll either shoot us down or take us prisoner until they get what they want." You said over your shoulder. "Is the Illyrian afraid of a hike?" You teased.

You heard a grunt and he was suddenly right next to you, his footsteps loud as he adjusted to the rocky slope you were heading up. "I don't like being called that, you know." He muttered, his eyes straight ahead.

Strange. Very strange for an illyrian indeed. Normally they were obnoxiously proud of their heritage like no other. It made you pause your comeback for a moment. you tried to remember the brief history of the night court you had been briefed on in training. Nothing was ever said about the high lord or his generals beyond their extraordinary abilities.

You knew the Illyrian possessiveness first hand. Anger flickered inside you, remembering what they did to their females. The abusiveness of their court when it came to yours and your winged cousins. How cruel they were in battle. You couldn't stop the thought as it raced from your lips - "Not proud of the clipping or breeding, spymaster?" You growled.

He was on you in an instant. Had you pinned against the side of the grassy knoll a second after that. The air left your body at the impact against the dirt burm. Your wings splayed out behind you on instinct, trying to balance you. His were as well, using them as extra force to hold you there. Your hand was at your dagger, but you didn't feel the need to use it, his grip loosened.

"Fuck. you." He bit out. You saw his hands as they gripped your armor. Scarred lines lay on his fingers, the back of his hands up to his wrist. They were a lighter color than the rest of his dark skin. Ridges puckering together like soft peaks of a mountain range. The sounds outside of your breathing together seemed to stop, his sharp tone silencing the woods completely. His eyes seemed like an endless pit, despair and malice under their shallow surface.

He shoved off you with a sigh, and continued down the trail. Wings snapped in tight behind him. You dusted yourself off and followed under the cover of nightfall.

+ The group of fae and beasts was getting exceedingly more and more rowdy as the night went on and the barrels of mead emptied. You didn't doubt the reason being that they thought your forces wouldn't move in the night. Not with so many foot soldiers that could be picked off in the forest by...unknown creatures. You shuddered at the thought of such things. The group was no more than thirty large, probably to winnow faster. Every pair had a weapon or a net weighted with stones that would nullify any magic. The arrows were likely poisoned as well. The trebuchet was packed with stones, boulders and what looked like wooden nails. They were planning for maximum damage.

"You take east, I'll go by the river." You whispered behind him, knowing that his shadows would pick it up if he didnt. The enemy campfire flickered in front of him, making his silhouette glow from where you crouched. His only response to your plan was a slight nod. You left him to it, creeping through the trees, avoiding leaves and fallen twigs that would make more sound than the soft pine floor. The fog of shadows whipped in a flurry around you as departed him. They stayed with you until you were firmly in the trees, the bubbling stream of the river loud enough to cover your tracks.

His signal to attack was subtle, but it worked. At first it seemed like their campfire had begun to sputter and smoke, leading to them quieting. Then, two decapitated heads were flung into the middle of the crowd circling the pit. A rustling from where Azriel originally stood had them scrambling for weapons, sticks, swords. Anything they could find. Then he sliced into three of their knees from behind. You were diving into the fray when the group had finally gotten their defenses up.

+ The snarls died out one by one. Azriel finished off the final Attor when a blinding pain in your back hit you. Your first instinct was to stab. The fae that stood behind you held your dagger in her stomach, looking you in the eye. The wooden steak at their side dropped to the ground. Her lips parted in a wicked smile as she pushed your knife deeper into her own stomach. "Death." She hissed. You felt the blood drain out of your face. She raised her other hand and was bringing it down when Truth Teller sliced clean through the neck. The hand dropped, as did the rest of the body that held your knife.

Pain returned to you as soon as the head stopped rolling on the ground. You could feel the blood dripping... not from your back. You let out a roar of anguish, trying to fold your wing inward. Your feathers were stained a dark red. It looked black in the dim light. Azriel was on you in a second, without a word he had his hands on you, your wing.

Pain dazzled you in more ways than you ever thought possible. It burned, it stung, it ached. It was enough to make you pass out for a few moments while Azriel carried you closer to the fire. "Fly- Me-" You panted between words. "Healer." You barked, letting your wing hang limp at your side. Azriel was assessing behind you. Slowly, methodically. Coolness encapsulated your wing. It was a slight relief against the burning.

"I cant fly with you if you can bring your wings in. And we need to get this out before it spreads, its poisoned..." He paused, hissing at whatever he was seeing. There was a pinch and he had a hand on the firm ridge, bending slightly. " Its in too deep to hope for a healer to recover by the time we get there too." he finished, working delicately around your feathers.

He was gentle, and firm while he did his best to get the bigger spikes out. You could feel the smaller slivers digging in whenever he bent your wing a different angle or if you tensed it at all. It began to itch as the fire died, casting you in darkness. "Dammit." He sighed, getting up. You hadn't realised how bad the gash was until you looked over your shoulder to see the pile of splinters he had gotten out so far.

"I may have left some in there, just don't move alright?" He stroked the curve of your wing. It sent a thrill through you that made your stomach flip despite the pain. "I'll be back in a minute. Just... stay put. Please." He added, then he was gone.

Your eyes grew heavy while you stared at the embers glowing in the fire. Thinking of Rhysand and his smug smile kept you awake. You couldn't wait until his own general proved him wrong. And proved the group was very capable of taking out winged foes, apparently. You sighed, then went rigid. A crack of sticks sounded. You panicked, knowing how treacherous the forest was without an extra pair of eyes looking out for you. You flung yourself to the fae woman's body, clawing for your dagger still embedded in her stomach. Your wing drug behind you, limp and aching.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Azriel gasped, dropping the pile of wood next to the fire pit as he came into view.

"You're a bastard." You groaned, wishing you could just lay down and wake up from this nightmare of pain and terror. "You're terrible and I hate you. So much." You panted, dropping the dagger. It rolled on the dirt beside you.

Once he had you set back up where he could see properly he began the more painful process of removing the splinters. You doubted any monsters in the dark would come lurking with the sounds you made.

"For some fucked up hands they do delicate work." You ground out through your teeth. He paused for just a second. A sharper pain than normal twisted through the wing. You laughed slightly at that, despite the pain.

"Well- for some fucked up wing you sure do have a mouth still." He chided back. "I told you to just stay put and you crawl ten feet away. And get dirt under your feathers on top of that." He sounded like he was smiling.

"I didn't know you were such a neat freak, Shadowsinger." He huffed a laugh, continuing to patch you up.

"My mother was. My actual mother." He said softly. He was solemn for a moment. You wished you could see his face as he spoke. "My step mother's children are the ones who did this to my hands." His voice was near a whisper. You nodded, causing a shooting pain through your back and the area he worked on. "If I have to tell you to hold still again I'll just knock you out." He warned, putting a hand on your shoulder.

+ Once he was satisfied with his work, he stepped back and helped you fold your wings in. It was stiff. It felt like a part of you had been cut off. An unusable part that acted only to slow you down. You despised it. The pain radiated through to your back once you pulled them in. Fear struck you at that. Weakly, you turned to him.

"I cant-" You bit back tears. You hated the words as they came out. "I cant fly." You muttered, your throat tightening.

Silently, he held a hand out to you. An invitation.

He was even more delicate while flying, gliding on the air as much as possible and keeping your weight balanced so you wouldn't jostle your injury too much. It was still uncomfortable. The base camp was miles away, with differing terrain. You hadn't realised how far it was until you were overhead and couldn't see the light from the camp anymore.

"I'm going to call you feathers after this." He said, the air around you almost drowning him out as he flew as quickly as he could. The pain spiked at the pinch of folding them in, but it wasn't as unbearable.

On the brink of sleep, you trudged your mind back awake to respond to him. "What do you mean?" You groaned, letting your head fall on to his shoulder. Exhaustion was quickly sweeping over you. A glance up at him and you saw the worry in his features. He pinched the back of your thigh slightly, provoking you.

"Feathers seem like a pain in the ass. Going around them, cleaning them, trying to... maneuver them?" He adjusted his grip on you slightly, pulling you closer. His heart hammered in his chest, you could hear it. "Stay awake for me, asshole." He was gliding lower now, his words were clipped.

"Tell Rhysand..." You groaned as he circled the healers tent "Fuck you." You panted, moaning in pain while he offloaded you on to the healers table. Medics surrounded you in a heartbeat. He began filling them in on the injury. Azriel did not leave your side the rest of the night.

#acotar #acomaf #azriel #illyrian #peregryn #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #azriel x reader

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

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A Wolf In Toussaint Chapter One

Summary: You(nin) wakes up, finding that things at the Vegelbud wedding didn’t go according to plan, but questions quickly rise about what exactly happened.

Word Count: 2558

Warnings: Spoilers for Witcher 3 DLC

A/N: Sorry this is a little longer than normal. It hasn’t been beta-ed, so all the mistakes are my own. This is the new series in the Witcher series I am writing. It follows We Meet Again and Running With The Wolf. If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know :)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @princesssterek @djinny-djin-djin @seanh-boredom

Chapter One

Pain. That’s the first thing you noticed when you started to come to. Pain in your wrists that were lashed together behind your back by rope that was much too tight. Pain throbbing in your head where the hilt of the dagger had hit you, knocking you out when you put up too much of a fight. The last thing you remember was trying to call on your magic to get away from the man with the dagger pressed to your throat as Geralt came back around the corner of the hedge, alerted by your struggles.

That’s when your captor had opened a portal. You remember feeling the power vacuum form behind you as it yawned wide open. Geralt didn’t reach you in time as the man with his arms around you stepped through, closing the portal quickly behind him. A deepening fury flared through Geralt’s golden eyes as the last shred of portal closed.

Slitting your eyes open, you didn’t dare lift your head in case you weren’t alone. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. The pounding headache was certainly making any movement harder. The room was dimly lit, and you realized that the rocking you felt wasn’t because of the swimming fog in your head. You were on a boat. Now that you knew, the creaking and groaning of the timber made more sense. A lamp swung on a post nearby, causing the fire inside to flicker intensely which didn’t work well with your headache.

The good news was you were alone. The bad news was that you seemed to be in the brig, tied to a post in the middle of the cell. The stench wafting from the corner caused your stomach to churn unfavourably, and you fought hard to keep the contents down. Breathing through your mouth, you lifted your head to look around as best you could from your vantage point.

“Ah, you awaken.” A voice to your left drew your attention. Fighting off another wave of nausea at the pain in your head, you turned to investigate the darkened cell next to yours. An Ofieri slave sat, tied similarly to you to the post in the middle of the cell, but unlike you, he seemed to be fairing better. “I was wondering how long it would be.”

“How long have I been out?” You didn’t want to think about how many days had passed. Based on how cramped your muscles felt, and how raw your wrists seemed to be, it had been at least a couple of days. You ached to rub your head, wanting to ease at least some of the pain bouncing around in your skull.

“It has been 5 days. I didn’t think you would ever wake up.” The man informed you, the last part of what he said concerning you the most. He must have seen the question form on your face, because he continued. “You were bleeding a lot from your head. Eventually the guard brought you the ship’s healer. It seems that they want to keep you alive.”

“Though not comfortable.” You quip, testing your bonds, wincing at the pain that shoots up your arms from your open wounds from the ropes.

“Where would the fun be in that?” The man laughed. You squinted into the darkness, trying to see him better. The lamp light didn’t seem to touch his cell as much as yours, and you could only see a vague outline of his face. If it wasn’t for his legs sticking out into the pool of light, you would have been convinced that you were talking to yourself.

“Why are they keeping you here?” You ask, groaning as you shift, stretching your stiff legs out to sit in a similar fashion to your new companion. You were careful not to move your arms too much, not wanting to cause further damage to your wrists.

“I stole from the King.” Your ears perked up at the mention of a king. He didn’t specify which one, but not many used that title lightly. And if he was Ofieri, perhaps it was a hint at what was in store for you.

“Which king would that be?” You hesitated before asking, not wanting to seem too eager. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t fight off the suspicion that this was a trap to get more information out of you.

“The King of Beggars.” The man offered as though it was obvious.

It was as though all the air was sucked from your lungs. A man you had trusted on more than a few occasions had effectively kidnapped you after screwing over a mission he had set you and Geralt on the path to. Something wasn’t adding up for you, but your head was still foggy with pain, and you felt like you couldn’t see all the pieces laid out in front of you. There was some else at work here, but it lay just outside of what you could see.

“Do you happen to know where we are heading?” Still trying to piece together what you knew already with all sorts of possibilities, you decided it was best to gather as much information as you could from someone who might be willing to provide answers. It was unlikely you would have another opportunity like this one.

“Until you were brought in, I assumed I was being taken back to Ofir to face the crimes I committed there.” The man shrugged as best he could. “Now it is anyone’s guess.”

Ofir. That was beyond the sea. Without the help from a Sorceress, Geralt would never find you. Unless he was willing to take down one of the crime bosses of Novigrad to get answers. And that was if that was where you were even heading. As your fellow captive pointed out, neither of you could really know where you were heading. You needed to convince a guard to give you the answers, but it wasn’t like you could enchant him to do it.

The fog in your head suddenly cleared. Magic. The fools had tied you up with rope. There wasn’t a single piece of Dimeritium on you. Nothing was binding your magic. They didn’t know who or what you were. They simply thought you were important to the Witcher and to the King of Beggars, but the latter hadn’t offered up any information about you to your captors before they got their hands on you. You held in the laughter that threatened to bubble up as relief flooded you.

“What did you steal?” You weren’t about to let a known criminal walk free. Not unless the punishment outweighed the crime. “What crimes are you facing back in Ofir?”

“Horse theft.” The man stated simply. You had to assume that he had committed that crime in both Velen and in Ofir. In Ofir, where they valued horses above most else, that was a serious crime. The punishment was death. In Velen, they punished it with death, but horses were viewed more as property than as a way of life. Velen had some harsh laws involving property.

“I’m going to get us out of here, but I suggest you find somewhere other than Novigrad and Velen to make a home for yourself. The King won’t let you live if he sees you again.” You smiled at him, already drawing on the wealth of power from the water surrounding the ship you were housed in. The look of awe that spread across the man’s face was worth the nosebleed this was probably going to cost you. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise where we will land, but it will be on land and out of captivity.”

Your portalling wasn’t as precise as Yennefer’s, and you were vastly out of practice. Just yet another thing that you needed to work on, stretch that metaphorical muscle. First things first though, you had to make your bonds disappear. Not the easiest task as there was always the risk of burning the person. At this point, you were fairly certain you wouldn’t feel it if you burned yourself, but you didn’t want to burn your companion.

“This may sting.” You offered a mild warning as you pulled the magic together to create your spell. You winced as your hands relaxed apart, the tension leaving your shoulders. You were pleased to see the man in the cell next to you not show any pain as the spell displaced the ropes binding his hands.

You jumped to your feet, adrenaline taking over as you felt the vacuum of a portal you weren’t creating. You watched warily as a hole was ripped, spinning, in the space in front of your cell. Then you felt it. The signature of the Sorceress creating the portal. Every spell left a signature, but not all signatures could be traced. Only the strongest among the Lodge could do that. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t recognize it.

You immediately set to work on melting down the hinges of your cell door. It would be one last thing you needed to worry about once the portal was fully formed. There was no way the crew on the ship didn’t feel the power amassing below deck in the brig. You split your power between your door and your neighbour’s, knowing that as soon as the iron doors fell, the crew would definitely know something was going on with the prisoners.

“Younin!” Geralt rushed through the portal just as the doors fell. He pulled you to him in a tight hug, relief flooding both of you now that you were in each other’s arms again.

“We have to move. Now.” Your voice dripped with urgency as you pulled out of the all too brief hug, wishing you could do more than that. There was no time though.

“Well, if you hadn’t created such a cacophony of noise, we could have just slipped you back out.” The voice of the signature floated through the portal. You stiffened, hoping you could have avoided this encounter a little longer.

“Thank you, Yenn.” Your voice was tight as you turn to your fellow Sorceress. A slither of jealousy snaked around your spine, settling in your gut. You hated that Geralt had to turn to his old lover, even though you knew she was basically the only one who could do what he needed.

Reaching for your cell mate, you pulled him through the portal as you heard shouting and boots on the stairs leading into the brig. Geralt drew his sword but followed behind you through the portal. Yennefer quickly slammed the portal shut before anyone could follow you. As much as you didn’t like it, you knew you could never have pulled off the portal as smoothly as Yennefer did.

The danger had passed for now. There was still the issue of the King of Beggars botching the mission on purpose, but you were safe. That seemed to be all that mattered to the otherwise stoic Witcher. Geralt pulled you in for a fierce kiss, not caring about the company you were in. You clung to his armour, wishing it wasn’t in your way. After the close call you just had, you needed to feel alive, and the only way that was going to happen was if you were alone and there was nothing between you. You needed to feel his body stretched out above yours, skin to skin.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but where are we?” The Ofieri interjected. Pulling away from Geralt, making sure to check your anger at having been interrupted, you turned to look at your surroundings.

“Good question. Yennefer?” You frowned when you didn’t recognize the room you were in. A quick glance out the window didn’t offer you an answer either. Turning to the other Sorceress, you caught the look of displeasure that flitted across her face at realizing how deeply Geralt felt for you.

“Geralt wanted me to bring you to his house in Toussaint in case you were injured.” Yennefer offered, her face becoming a perfected mask of indifference. She examined her nails as though trying to prove how little interest she had in your feelings for the Witcher who once warmed her bed.

“You have a house in Toussaint?” You ignored Yenn’s antics, looking up at Geralt. The land filled with Knights-errant seemed like the last place Geralt would want to settle down.

“It was a reward for helping the Duchess. And with Kaer Morhen in ruin, it seemed as good as any place to set some roots.” Geralt guided you closer to the window with a hand on your lower back. You smiled up at him, leaning into his hold as you took in the sun dappled scene beyond the glass.

“Come, Ofieri, I think there is food in the kitchen for us.” Yennefer couldn’t stomach anymore of seeing you two together and fled the room. The man who you realized you still didn’t know his name followed quickly after her, leaving you and the Witcher alone.

“How are you really?” Geralt turned you with his hands on your shoulders. His gold eyes flicked over your body, assessing all your injuries.

He guided you to the bed, squatting in front of you when you sat down. He carefully lifted your hands up when he noticed how bad your wrists were. At the slight movement, however, the wounds opened again and began bleeding freely. You winced as sharp pain travelled up your arms again. Geralt caught the look on your face, cupping your cheek as he looked deep into your eyes. He didn’t have to say anything, you could see the concern and worry darkening his hypnotic cat eyes. His hand travelled to the back of your head, wanting to draw you to him for a kiss, but he felt the congealed blood in your hair.

“How is your head?” He asked quietly, sure your headache was pounding especially after using magic to free yourself. As uncomfortable as Yennefer’s presence was making you, you had to admit you didn’t think you could have pulled off the portal in your condition.

“It hurts.” You admitted unnecessarily. You knew he understood what a head injury felt like. One of the perks of his job. You leaned into his hand when he cupped your cheek again. “For now, I just think I need rest. I can work on healing later.”

Geralt nodded, helping you get into the decadently decorated bed. Even through your pain, you had to almost laugh at how out of place this bed seemed in Geralt’s life. The rich colours and immense comfort were a far cry from the places the Path normally took him. As your head hit the down filled pillow, all the questions you had been asking yourself came flooding back to you.

“Sleep.” Geralt gently said, his hand making the motion you had come to recognize as the Axii sign. Your questions were probably written all over your face, and he was compelling you to sleep instead of laying awake as your mind ran wild.

Your eyes slid closed shortly after. The last thing you remember is the feeling of Geralt’s warm callused hand on your forehead, followed by the soft press of his lips. And then sleep overtook you.

#Witcher Fanfic #Geralt of Rivia fanfic #Geralt x reader #Geralt Fanfic #Henry Cavill Fanfic

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Text

Something Familiar

Prologue: A Risk Worth Taking

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, there wasn’t supposed to be this much death. They were supposed to rebel, survive, and go back out into the world. More than just three of them were supposed to make it out. Or rather, there had been three of them, but Silas hadn’t seen any sign of his brothers since he had gotten to the forest. He couldn’t risk lingering, he didn’t want to risk being recaptured. He sent a prayer up to whatever deity felt like listening that his brothers would be kept safe, and then changed into a snake. He stuck to the under brush as best he could and looked for a place to take shelter so he could nurse his wounds. He was tentative about calling what they had done a success because of how many of his kind had died. Shape Shifters had been hard to find before this, they were a rare subclass of mage. Then they had been hunted to be sold as familiars which were just as rare and picky about who they bonded with. Then this. Maybe three of them had survived, but Silas wasn’t about to get his hopes up. Silas had no idea what he was going to do next. Ideally he would find a healer and then get himself patched up. He had broken bones that he could still feel even in a form that didn’t have those specific limbs. The biggest issue was that healers cost money and Silas had exactly nothing to his name, Even with the dire condition he was in, there was likely not a healer out there that would treat him for free.

When the white hot pain from changing forms settled into something manageable he started looking for a place to take shelter. He needed a place to lay low and recover. Pick a form and stay in it so he wouldn’t risk breaking anything else. He was at the outer edge of a path so he decided to follow it. All roads lead to something akin to civilization be it a town, a camp, or a house. He didn’t exactly believe anyone would be all that keen on helping him, but he couldn’t afford to be picky at this point. He would honestly just be grateful for a dry place to rest if someone could be bothered to give him that much. There was a house at the end of the path. It was well maintained, and much to his surprise there was no magical barrier around the place. He made it to the door without an issue. There didn’t seem to be anyone inside either when he made his way under the door. There were no magical barriers to be found inside the house either which was interesting to him. This person either wasn’t a magic user or often opened their home to other magic users. He braced himself for the excruciating pain that was going to come with changing back. He didn’t change all the way, just enough to be vaguely human shaped, and settled into the chair at the table. When his vision cleared he looked more around the house. There was a pile of crumpled papers on the table. Silas couldn’t help his curiosity as he looked through them.

They were failed familiar contracts. According to the papers he was a healer and his home served as his clinic. He was glad to see that the world didn’t seem to have changed too much during the years he had been locked away. The paperwork on the table suggested that though he was a particularly good healer, it was more due to his medical knowledge than his magical strength. While he was strong enough to summon a familiar he didn’t usually have enough magic left to bond with one. Perhaps they could make this work, Silas could offer him enough magic to bond with a familiar in exchange for being healed. Maybe he could even exchange housework for a place to stay. Intruding on a mage and his familiar could be considered a violation of an intimate bond, so he likely wouldn’t stick around after the contract was made. He would exchange magic for healing and figure out the rest on his own. He was an alright thief and if all else failed he could always resort to turning tricks. He heard the door creak open and flinched. Silas didn’t have the strength to change forms again without passing out. He let out a quiet sigh and set down the contract he had been reading. He would be noticed in a matter of time, and after that there would be a lot of explaining and bargaining to do. Hopefully this healer was one of the few compassionate ones. Maybe he would be willing to help even though Silas had so little to give in exchange.

It took longer than Silas thought for the cloaked mage to notice him. Then when he finally was aware of Silas’s presence he seemed to be on autopilot, “I’m sorry that you came all this way but the clinic is closed for the next few-” He finally turned to face Silas as he was pulling his hood down. Silas observed that his hair was a mess and he had light blue eyes, they were wide with both worry and shock, “Who are you? More importantly, how did you get into my house?” “You can call me Sixty.” He knew better than to give his actual name, they held power when you were a creature class, “I used the door, in a sense. Might I suggest security runes if your clinic really is closed to the public.” “Why- how did you find this place?” The unknown man continued, “What do you want?” “You’re trying to gain a familiar.” The words made him feel sick, “If you heal me, in a few days I will have enough strength to lend you magic. You can summon and bond with a familiar and then I will be out of your hair.” “They will leave not all that long after you do.” The mage said quietly, “Familiar’s won’t stay with someone who can’t protect them. Even then I won’t lie on a contract, I refuse to be that kind of keeper.” He sighed quietly though, “I will still help you though. I don’t know what kind of fight you got yourself into, but some of those wounds look pretty serious.”

Silas found himself genuinely surprised. He had been hoping for someone like this, but the odds had been anything but in his favor. That, and this one seemed genuine. He didn’t want to hook a familiar into a false contract. Maybe his luck had finally changed. “Is there a way I could properly thank you?” He paused and faltered, he didn’t know this man’s name, “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.” “Daniel.” He responded, “The biggest thing you can do to help is be still. This is going to hurt.” Daniel came to stand beside him, “I’m going to reset your broken bones today, you are going to stay here and rest a while, then I’ll take a couple days to treat your other wounds. Understand?” “If its too taxing on you to do this in one go, I could lend you some of my magic. We could do this in one go and I’ll be out of your hair come morning.” He offered and was taken off his guard by Daniel’s responding laugh. It was a bright and joyful thing that really didn’t fit the situation. “Thank you.” Daniel said once he had collected himself, “Sixty wasn’t it? I’m not pacing this out for me. Mending bones is one of the most painful things a healer can do, you’re going to be exhausted after, if not entirely in shock.”

That conversation was the last thing Silas remembered before he woke up in a bed that definitely wasn’t his. He looked around the house to try and get his bearings. He tried to sit up in increments, when he was about halfway to what could be considered a sitting position he let out a pained sound and laid back down. “Finally back with me?” He heard Daniel’s voice come from somewhere near the kitchen, “Because we need to have a chat about a few things.” Silas gave a groan in response. There was still too much pain coursing through his systems for him to form words. Daniel unfortunately had not been exaggerating; having his bones reset was some of the worse pain he had ever gone through. Which was saying a lot, all things considered. “Like what your name actually is, if you know it of course. I refuse to call you by any of the numbers branded into your skin.” Daniel said as he came over with a tray of some of the best food Silas had ever seen, “Then, if you’re comfortable, why you had so many serious injuries both old and new. How it was that a simple bone mending spell would knock you out for almost a week.” Silas flinched and looked away as Daniel continued in a softer tone, “I’m just worried.”

Silas was quiet for a long moment. Daniel set the tray up over his lap and helped him to sit up, but didn’t push for answers. He seemed to know that this was going to take a lot out of him. His stomach had turned from all of the questions so he nursed the tea instead as something to keep him busy. “My name is Silas.” He eventually said. His voice was barely above a whisper and he was half expecting The Professor to come crashing through the door now that he had said it aloud, “I haven’t been called that since before.... everything I suppose.” “Is there something else you would rather be called?” Daniel asked, “I would hate to dig up unpleasant memories while you stay here.” Silas found himself smiling. Daniel was at the very least considerate, if not overly nosey, “Silas is fine. Its just been a while since I’ve heard it is all.” Silas felt the tears start to roll down his cheeks and he wiped them away as they fell, “I suppose it means this is real, that I’m finally safe.” “Okay. That’s enough for now.” Daniel said, and Silas heard him distantly as something that was a painful mix of a sob and a laugh rattled its way out of him. He was feeling an odd mix of relief and guilt. Like he was simultaneously in free fall and chained to the ground. He was alive. He was free; and it had only cost him everything he had ever known. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He had no idea how much the world had changed, or if it had changed at all. Not to mention if there was a place for him in it.

Silas didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up again the house was dark, he was a little less stiff, and he was hungry. He tried sitting up again, it was a little easier this time. He let out a hiss of pain once he was situated. The sound seemed to summon Daniel out of the shadows. “Sorry for putting you under again.” Daniel started, “You broke down into hysterics and nothing else seemed to calm you down.” “Thank you.” Silas said, “Might I make a request though?” “Go for it.” Daniel replied. “Please don’t ever do it again.” Silas said lowly, “The thought of someone else being in charge of my sense of awareness makes me uncomfortable.” “Of course.” Daniel agreed, “Do you mind if I talk to you about something?” “You’re the doctor.” Silas remarked dryly, but Daniel’s expression sobered him up pretty quickly. “There’s a lot more damage to your body than I had originally thought.” Daniel started, “Its going to be at the very least six months until the physical damage is healed enough for me to be comfortable letting you leave.” “If payment is an issue we can make a deal.” Silas scrambled in his desperation, and continued with something he was certain to regret, “We could make a contract. I’m a beast subclass, I can lend you my magic. Just please don’t leave me like this.”

“Silas, breathe,” Daniel coaxed, “I’m not going to kick you out. I said I was going to heal you and I meant it.” Daniel paused, “Its just, you have a lot of mental trauma as well. That’s what worries me. Bones mend, memories don’t.” “That is none of your business.” Silas snapped, he had shifted partially and bared his newly sharpened teeth, “Just fix the physical shit and I’ll do the rest on my own.” Daniel didn’t outright call him a liar, but those blue eyes voiced his doubts well enough, “We’re going to make that contract as well; but not act on it, I need a way to explain why I have a Shape Shifter in my home.” Daniel looked away from him, “I disagree with it, but the laws are that Shape Shifters must be bound to a higher mage. As soon as you are well I will burn it and you can be on your way.” Silas looked down at his hands. Of course there had been a contingency plan. The Professor was a smart man, even in the event of their escape they would never truly be free. They had the option to be tied down or hunted. There were worse people to be bound to than Daniel he supposed, but he still withered at the thought. He had offered the contract as a desperate last bid for care. It was a risk he hadn’t calculated fully and now he was stuck.

“I’m trusting you with this.” Silas said firmly, “Don’t abuse it.” “Thank you for your trust.” Daniel agreed, “I won’t betray it.” Silas wanted to believe him, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a mistake. Though he supposed he had taken worse risks and had come away alive at the very least. Daniel couldn’t be any worse than what he had already been through. He had only his life left to lose, and he didn’t think it was worth all that much either way.

#Something Familiar #SF AU #daniel60 #dbh daniel #dbh sixty #dbh fic #dbh #fantasy au #tw death #tw branding #tw torture #tw suicidal ideation

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inspiringmelodrama · 3 years

Text

Yo no creo en brujas, pero que las hay, las hay

Part 3

Warnings: death of animals, spiders, curses, injuries, blood.

Beta read by the amazing @hnt-escape

The beast laid still in the middle of the clearing, its elegant body sprawled in a way that hid the harm done by Tovar’s blades. Vines curled around the big head, almost caressing it. The place looked sacred, holy.

No church had ever made him feel small or impure, but that clearing somewhere in the middle of nowhere did. The trees seemed to sway and a gust of wind swept through the space, causing leaves to spin.A distant howling sound sent a clear message for him: something treasured had been destroyed.

The idea of carrying some type of proof of the beast’s death had gone through his mind, only to be dismissed immediately.

He would end up dead on the forest floor if he tried to drag the heavy body with him.

The antlers or the fur could be removed with relative ease, but the thought made his guts wrench.

He had done enough to the being.

If the villagers didn’t believe his word, or his injuries, they could enter that wretched forest and see it for themselves.

With a last glance, Pero turned around towards where he thought he’d come from. Death heavy on his shoulders.

The trek back to the village seemed endless.

Tovar dragged himself, leaving a trail of blood from his various wounds. The creature’s antlers had speared clear through his right arm and he wheezed with every step feeling his ribs shift, courtesy of when the beast knocked him down.

The sun had passed the center of the sky when the foliage started to thin and Tovar found himself in one of the pathways leading to the edge of the village.

With a huff he climbed over a tree root that most definitely wasn’t there this morning and came face to face with the old woman from before.

She stood hunched over her cane, a beautiful piece of carved wood resembling entwined vines, her eyes crinkled when she looked up at him and that hissing cat voice was back when she proclaimed “The beast was slayed then.

Tovar assented, expecting she would say something else on the matter.

But the old woman kept looking at him, a flash of sadness on her wrinkled face.

When it became clear neither of them had anything to add, Tovar grunted and made to walk past her, only to be stopped by said cane planted firmly against his front.

“You’re hurt, Tovar. Come to my cottage and I’ll bandage that arm of yours.”

There was no question in her tone, but no order either. It was simply an invitation, a kindness offered to someone who had risked his life for her people. Accepting or not was entirely on him.

A friendly grunt and a nod was all they exchanged before she turned and went her way, Pero on her heels, hoping it wasn’t far.

Turns out nothing was far in that village and after a couple of minutes they stood in front of a small but well tended garden leading to an equally small and well tended cottage.

The door was low and Tovar had to bend down so he wouldn’t hit his head. Inside the ceiling was higher and bunches of drying plants hung from the wood beams.

The place was cozy, with embers heating a pot over on the hearth. It was one room with a big, sturdy table in the center filled with glass jars, a pestle and mortar and other strange items.

Fur pelts and candles, jars and what Pero presumed were cooking utensils finished the decorations.

And there were plants.

Everywhere.

Coming in through the sole window, hanging upside down from the ceiling, strewn around the table. Giving the room a heady smell of damp soil and green things he didn’t know the name of.

It’s all very witch-like, Tovar thought, or perhaps she is a healer.

Both healing and witchcraft were strangely similar. How did one know what was wrong in a place they could not see if not by some touch of magic?

One gnarled finger pointed to a chair by the table and Tovar followed with his eyes, still by the door. It was only when he saw the woman turn with her arms full of odds and ends that he moved his body and settled down on the chair.

She approached and started organizing the items she carried on the table top, murmuring for him to take the clothes off his torso.

“Let me see the injuries, Spaniard.” This time her tone was commanding and without thinking he started to undo the armour, disposing of the chainmail and other layers until he was left in his tattered and bloodied undershirt.

Her knowing gaze assessed the ragged edges, the trickle of blood running down from where the beast had stabbed him with its antlers. With quick movements the woman took hold of a soft looking cloth and dabbed it in a bottle with clear liquid, Tovar learned what was the purpose of it approximately 5 seconds later.

At once she pressed it against the wound, holding firm when Tovar thrashed against the intense burn and let out a yelp, sounding like a wounded animal.

Tovar let out a string of curses behind clenched teeth and braced himself for whatever else the old crone had in store for him.

The healer paid him no mind and after what seemed an eternity, but in reality was no more than a minute or two, she removed the cloth and he watched, astonished, as the wound started to foam and dirt bubble out.

Tovar realized 3 things at the exact same time:

1.She was definitely a witch.

2. She meant no harm, for now.

3. He was too tired to care either way.

It was time for the last part of his hurried treatment. The woman had cleaned other scratches, tied his ribs and applied a poultice to the many bruises he sported; the only thing left now, according to her, was sewing the skin together.

Pero would have no problem with it if she wanted to use normal thread, but no, the old crone wanted to irk him.

The old witch had to know, because she turned around with yet another jar. What this one contained though...

Few things in this life scared Tovar, and 8 legged creatures were one of them.

Inside the glass jar in the woman’s hand there was a stick filled with a white gray thin substance resembling thousands of fine threads tied together. In the bottom, a brown spider worked on even more of the weird thing.

A shiver ran up his spine, Pero could swear he felt eight legs and a fuzzy body making its way up his bare back.

The old witch, for in his mind he was certain now of what she was, could do anything she wished to his wounds. Anything except that.

“Absolutely not, witch!” He growled, one arm shooting up to hold her needle and thread away from him, the other took hold of his dagger that rested on his belt.

The woman’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the blade, “That,” she said pointing, “smells of death.”

“You figured me out then” the woman let out a sigh, and dropped the needle.

“You didn’t make it hard; with your weird jars and cobwebs you want to use on guests.”

“You are a very rude guest, Tovar.”

“Not letting you sew me with cobwebs doesn’t make me rude. I want answers.Now.”

They faced each other in a battle of wills; Tovar ended up winning.

She harrumphed and let go of the spidery thread, only to pick another spool, green thread this time. Raising it to his face, she only started stitching when he nodded and then they talked.

“Why get me to kill your own beast?”

It was the only thing he still didn’t understand.

“Do you think me the mother of that monster? Is there only one Spaniard on this earth?”

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t end up in a village with not only one, but two witches.

The woman let out a breath and her body seemed to sag with it; that was the moment Pero truly saw the age in her bones, the tiredness in her eyes.

“I’ve been on this earth far longer than you could even imagine and there’s nothing in this world that I haven’t known, Tovar. I’ve seen it all, including what power can do,” she continued. “I chose this place as my home centuries ago and I come and go, watching children be born and grow and I cannot let them suffer any longer.”

“If you have seen so much, why not kill the beast yourself then? Why get me to do your bidding?”

“Because, Pero Tovar,” she said, taking hold of his hand and tracing with the point of her fingers the lines and scars intertwining in his palm, “you needed to come here, you’re meant to a place I haven’t seen yet. And sometimes one needs steel, not herbs and spells.”

“Dine with me, Pero Tovar and I’ll mend your clothes, as a favor. It won’t be long now.”

She sounded ominous. His mind paused at it but his stomach growled and between the two, his stomach usually won.

So he stayed.

He should leave. Grab his armour, go to the tavern, demand his payment and leave this place, let the only reminder be the dust on his soles and the scars he bears.

But he couldn’t.

The witch’s home was warm and inviting; the food was delicious and most important of all, she seemed happy to talk to him. To listen to his stories and animatedly tell her own.

He was in the middle of a tale about William and some ducks in Wales when a rush of cold air came and a strange woman entered the cottage.

Pero shot to his feet, his left hand wielding the same dagger he used to end the creature in the woods, the strange woman stood before him with fire in her eyes.

“I suppose no one would invite a mother to feast with her child’s murderer,” was said to him in a voice reminiscent of a hissing cat.

Fuck

“It was no child, Ethânis. It was a monster and had to be stopped.” The older witch sounded calm, too calm.

The witch’s forehead, Ethânis, blazed with a series of marks; the same ones he saw on the beast’s head, her eyes focused on the dagger on Tovar’s hand and he felt the steel grow hot in his grip.

“I haven’t finished with you, old hag,” Ethânis’ voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“And you, you heartless bastard, with your precious blade; I know just what to do. A soul for the spilled blood.”

The dagger shone the same marks, the heat on the hilt became too much even for Pero’s calloused skin; he realized with horror that he could not let go of it.

The dagger and his skin were as one.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” was the only thing he could mutter.

The witch raged on, a storm let loose in an enclosed space; the old witch, Tovar realized in that moment he didn’t know what else to call her, laid frozen on the floor.

Everything stopped and the hissing voice came again, in whispers against his ears,

Place of the first strike cursed blade shall find; Wielded by friend or foe you shall never know; For millennia the will wander, only to alone fall in a strange land.

Her eyes kept blazing and winds erupted from the doors, sweeping around and raising leaves and fur pelts.When it was over Ethânis had disappeared.

Pero Tovar believed in witches. A lot.

He was stunned. What does one do when cursed?

Tovar refused to cry. He was a man of actions, and crying wouldn’t help.

What would help was getting rid of the curse. And that’s exactly what he set out to do.

The old witch was still on the floor and Tovar shook her none too gently until the old witch came back to her senses.

“Wielded by friend or foe”

“Wander for millennia”

The words kept twirling in his mind, spreading and infecting every thought.

God, he’d spent a life fighting; was it all he would ever know?

Would he truly spend a thousand years drifting only to end up forgotten and alone?

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want any of that.

The old witch was up and running around the cottage and at this moment Pero didn’t care about names anymore.

He cared about being cursed.

About being alone.

About being owed a debt; he said so to the witch.

“I know, Spaniard. The debt the villagers owed is now mine.” She kept rummaging in her things, looking for something in various pouches.

The witch finally produced a single coin out of one of those pouches; it was beautiful,capturing the firelight and gleaming like pure, polished silver.

She offered it to him and Pero snapped.

“I don’t care about money,” he roared, “I want the curse gone.”

She shoved the coin in his hands and “There’s no way of undoing a curse after its cast, Pero Tovar,” she continued, a look of sympathy on her face, “the only thing I can do is lessen it someway.”

Shit

“Then do it! I don’t care how. Lessen the curse and I will consider your debt paid.”

“Then a debt shall it be.”

The old witch grabbed her cane, and started hitting it against the floor. A steady thump, thump, thump creating a thrum in Tovar’s ears.

The hissing voice was gone and now she sounded like water. The noise of gurgling springs and waterfalls, the eternal rivers running towards the sea. Powerful and mysterious, not to be played with.

You shall sleep, not wander.

When there’s fire in the sky and ice on the ground, a tender heart shall come and with frigid fingers touch you. She’ll guide you, where you have never been before, through earth, sky and sea.

With the last word the thumping also stopped and her voice returned to what Pero believed to be normal.

“It’s done,” was all she said.

This one wasn’t much better than the last.

“Yours didn’t rhyme.”

The look of sympathy was substituted by one of annoyance. “It doesn’t have to rhyme. Not all of us have the penchant for dramatics that Ethânis

possesses.”

Pero grunted in concordance.

He still held the gleaming coin tightly on a fist and when he let go there was a perfect imprint of it on his palm.

“And this? Shall I acquire another debt with you?”

“That is a favor, mercenary. You may need me once more.”

“What of Ethânis’ curse then? I just wait to be stabbed?”

“You can always take your destiny in your hands, Tovar. You can live in fear of it, or you can end it now.”

“What do you mean?” he was suspicious now.

“Easy. Let me stab you.”

Let me stab you.

She just said it. As if being stabbed was something he wanted for himself.

The worst of it was that he was actually considering.

“Strike me then, witch.” the words coming out of his mouth surprised even him.

Pero got to his feet unsheathing the cursed dagger from his belt.

His skin felt clammy as he extended his arm.

He felt shivers as he left his side unprotected and pointed to where the blade had first drawn blood from the creature.

He didn’t need to bother though, the moment the woman took hold of the hilt it felt like there was a string tying the tip of the blade and the place on his ribs together.

Guiding one towards the other.

Before she could strike, Tovar held her other hand, small and feeble under his strong ones, her skin thin and dry.

“Are you…” Pero cleared his throat before continuing, “are you friend or foe?”

Her old eyes held such sympathy for him that he knew the answer before she even opened her mouth.

“I would like to think ‘friend,’ Pero.”

He nodded, he would like to think that too.

She swung her arm in a wide arch, the dagger coming straight to the place it was supposed to hit, no changes in its trajectory.

He felt the blade pierce his skin, felt the tip scrape at bone. It burned more than anything he had ever felt. A fire within he thought never would seize.

He heard the words of the second curse again, then everything went to black.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar fic #Pero Tovar #the great wall fic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

LoL Chapter 52- Apathy

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

A new ally appears from the least likely of places, and offers the greatest help to save Grian before it’s too late.

___________________________________________

The guild hall was horribly silent. Not even the trees whispered in the wind. All of Eremita feels stale without Grian.The sky was grey and empty, no wind carrying his cackling laughter.

Dolios captured Grian. All this time, the feverish stares and maniac smiles, Dolios finally caught his little bird. Mumbo tried to stop him, but of course his magic refused to work. He could only watch, helpless, as his best friend was dragged into the sea, disappearing beneath the waves as Dolios kidnapped Grian.

“We have to find him. We can’t give up on Grian. He’d never give up on us.” Iskall growls, fingers tightening around the small clump of iskallium sitting on the table. What he wouldn’t give to lob this right through Dolios’s head right now, give him a crack in the head and some radioactive illness.

“But we don’t even know where Dolios took him. He could be anywhere in Lairyon, or even beyond. Without any way to know his whereabouts, we’re searching for a feather in a forest.” Cub shakes his head. If he knew where Grian was, they could easily portal there and mount their rescue attempt. But they don't know. They have no clue where he is, or what Dolios is doing to him, or why he targeted Grian in the first place. For all they know, Grian could be dead. They could already be too late.

Mumbo’s lips quiver, pressing into a thin white line. He fights back the fear, the pain, the anger, every emotion welling up inside of him. Abruptly, he stands, so fast he knocks his chair backwards. “We aren’t just going to sit here and do nothing though. Searching is something, rather than just sitting on our asses and letting Dolios have Grian!”

The anger in Mumbo’s voice surprises his fellow hermits, even Wels raising an eyebrow and leaning against the metal of his backplate at the outburst. He’s neer seen Mumbo so passionate, so sure. In fact, he can even see motes of redstone dancing in the air around him, like dust after cleaning the house. “Well, we can always ask our informants, ask townsfolk if they've seen Dolios around. But...who knows how long that could take.”

“Running around like cockatrices with our heads cut off won’t do anything to help either.” False adds on, tapping her fingers against the aged wood of the table. “We have to be rational.”

The silence returns, except for the measured steps of Mumbo pacing the floor. Even though Grian was the one captured, the rest of the hermits can't help but feel trapped. Unable to move forward, but the idea of being stagnant even worse. He has their queen, and now they’re in check.

TFC stands, opening his mouth and raising a finger. Any words that come from him are drowned out, however, by the heavy crash of a rogue wave against the island’s shore. The seawater splashes all the way to the guild hall, like rain falling upon the dining tables and hermits. Seaweed drapes across the sand and rock. But it’s not the only thing that has washed ashore. A low groan alerts the guild of their visitor, as the kipling slowly shifts to his knees.

Apatia’s chest heaves, his face flushed pink and lips part with each gasping breath. He attempts to stand, but his legs give out from under him at the first step forward. xB catches him with a wave of water, keeping him from collapsing to the ground.

“What is this guy doing here?” Doc growls, face jeering at the sight of the guildmaster. Ren, Iskall, and Cub, on the other hand, dare to press closer to the leader of Dream’s End. Ren and Iskall both wrap and arm around Apatia, attempting to guide him to the infirmary- even though they’ve lost their healer.

But Apatia bats away their attempt to help. He collapses to his hands and knees, long, straight navy hair falling across a determined maroon gaze. “He’s got him, the winged guy. He took him to the dungeons.”

“Of course! Why didn’t we think to go there immediately?” Cleo questions, though she shivers at the memory of being in there. That horrible game Dolios played with their lives.

Apatia shakes his head. “Below even that. If you think you know every one of Dolios’s secrets, there will always be another beneath it.”

“We have to go now, we have to rescue Grian.” Mumbo starts for the shoreline, despite having no way to cross the sea, and Xisuma grabs Mumbo by the scruff before his feet meet the sand.

“Lets hold on, think this through. And Listen to what Councillor Apatia has to say.” Xisuma hums.

“Why should we trust him though?” Tango growls, his hair burning bright and hot, spooking the visitor. “He knows where we live, he could just be luring us into a trap. And Grian’s the bait.”

“I trust him.” Cub states, his voice low and calm. Always calm. “He knocked out Dolios when he was trying to kill Flaryn. He saved us,the wanderers, and the Dragon of the East.”

“But why now?” Tango questions, eyeing the kipling as he sits down in the guild hall. Exhausted, on the verge of passing out. It looks like he’s never swam this far in his life. Would the laziest man alive really swim all this way for a trick? “Why, after Dolios did so much, did he decide to grow a spine now?”

Drowsy eyes are lidded closed, and for a second all the hermits stare in disbelief. Did Apatia really just fall asleep? Sitting up, in the middle of the guild hall, when every second is a second longer with Grian captured? But he snores just a little bit, and Hypno can even feel the inkling beginning of a dream forming beneath the mop of long blue hair.

Tango’s had enough. He slams his hands down on the table, spilling metal mugs and sending tableware clattering. “All the times before, and you let Dolios get away with it. Sending us to our doom in Gildara, attacking a healer’s guild, stealing magic from competitors in the most important game to Lairyon, using us like pawns in a sick game of chess, and murdering so many guilds? Killing our first guild?”

Tango waves to Zed and Impulse, who sulk while Tango burns with fury. Apatia waits until Tango has let off his steam. He may be lazy, but that also breeds patience. “I have let horrible things slip by, my own sloth letting Dolios and the other councilmembers do horrible things. I know that. I have no excuse for my action- or lack thereof- from before.

“But when I saw your guild willing to risk anything to save that one-” He points to Doc, who sneers back. “-I realized that there is one thing worth making an effort for, one thing to get up and do something about. To have a family like you all are, to protect and care and fight for one another, that’s what’s worth standing up, fighting back. And when I saw what you would go through to save him, I knew what Dolios is doing is wrong.”

Silence. Apatia lowers his head, twiddling his thumbs. The hermits observe him, some with sympathy and understanding, others still wary of their enemy at their doorstep. Furious to have a councilmember sitting among them. He takes another deep breath. “I'm tired of sitting by. I can’t fix what I did before, but i can start on the right track now. And we don’t have much time until Dolios has stolen Grian’s power.”

“He’s turning him into a husk?” Stress gasps, her voice and hand shaking as she covers her lips. The thought of such a bright, happy person reduced to a flaking grey crust is horrible.

Apatia shakes his head. “No, it's worse. He’s taking his magic for himself. It’s a much more cruel process, to sap the life force and magic from a person and use it for himself. It's also much slower. We don’t have much time, but Grian should still be alive.”

“How do we stop it? What should we do?” Iskall posits.

Apatia goes quiet, and for a second the hermits think he’s fallen asleep again. But after a minute, he responds. “I can get you into Milliara, even into the dungeons. While you all are down there, I can even hold off the arcane guard. But if you want any hope of saving Grian, not losing him to Dolios, you’ll have to sever the connection between him and the crystals that are transferring his magic to Dolios. And I don’t think Dolios will let you guys do that without a fight.”

“We’ll need every hermit then. With Apatia’s help, we can sneak back into the death dungeons, but once we’re there, it’s going to be a fight not just for Grian’s life, but all of ours.” No hermit dared consider not saving Grian. They’re a family, and no one in this family is left behind. They always stick together.

The hermits and Apatia make their plan. With the aid of xB, Ren, Scar, and Apatia, they would swim to the mainland on the crest of a tidal wave, as fast as they could possibly go. They’d make quick work across the countryside in any way they possibly can. Apatia would bring them through Milliara by using the canals that flow through the city, bypassing the guards and bringing them right to the capitol’s doorstep. Putting the guards to sleep and Apatia’s knowledge of the secret entrance to the forgotten dungeons, it will then be up to the hermits to find the subchamber. And from there, depending on the severity of Grian’s suffering, they will attack.

TFC and Apatia lead the charge, off the island. Even though some hermits still despise Apatia, they’ll do anything for their family. Even working with the enemy And so they leave Eremita, hellbent on one thing-

Bringing their family back home. All of them.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #light of lairyon #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard iskall #wizard mumbo #wizard cub #iskall85 #mumbo jumbo #cubfan135 #lol

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 13

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/638162885025120256/odins-ward-chapter-12

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 2678

Warnings: Adult themes

True age: Y/n: 1197 // Loki: 1323 // Thor: 1575 // Audunn 2961

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 19 // Loki: 21 // Thor: 25 // Audunn: 47

Loki’s POV

“Your Highness, rebels have attacked one of the outer villages and stolen their food supply.”

Damn. I purse my lips in frustration. This is the third attack by rebels in as many months. “Take six of our warriors and station them in the village with enough grain, wine, fruits, and vegetables to feed everyone for half a year. By then it should be harvest and the people will have enough to feed themselves.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The advisor bows deeply as he records my decision. Pride gathers within me.

“We need to re-think our security strategy for our borders. These rebels keep finding chinks in our armor. We must—” In my mind’s eye, the old painting in the attic glows purple.

All breath leaves me.

“My Liege?” The advisor looks at me with concern.

“I have to go.” Without another word, I stalk out of the room. Once I’m sure no one can see me, I teleport to the attic in the turret.

The last place I had a nice moment with Y/n.

The painting of the door, the one I told her to use to contact me if she ever needed me, glows her favorite shade of purple.

With shaking hands, I reach into the painting, open the door, and retrieve a letter. Just seeing her elegant script—the first sign of her in over sixty years—nearly brings me to my knees. It reads:

Dearest Loki,

Can I even still call you that? I’m not sure I should, given our circumstances. Nevertheless, it is true. You are dear to me.

Anyways,

I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I read the words in her voice, I can see the faces she makes as she awkwardly stumbles through writing this letter. It points to her still being the Y/n I once knew.

I read on.

Anyways, I have a favor to ask of you. It’s a pretty big one and could get us both in a lot of trouble if we’re found out. Due to my current situation, I am willing to take that risk. Are you? If so, please agree to meet me so we can discuss the specifics of what I’m asking of you — in person. It is better to keep as much of this as possible out of writing.

I realize that you said we needed to keep out of each other’s lives, and I understand why that is the best way for us both.

Still, I cannot help but be excited at even the possibility of seeing you again.

~ Y/n

P.S. Please burn this letter as soon as you’ve read it. Thanks.

Had the tone of her letter not been so concerning, I would have grinned at her sign-off.

After teleporting to my chambers, I throw the letter into the fire, as instructed, and sit at my desk to craft a response.

My Dearest Y/n,

I hope I have not overstepped in returning your greeting. You raise a valid point in wondering if we can still be that to each other—dear—but I believe our hearts cannot be lied to. There is no point in ignoring the fact when it is just us.

I know you would not contact me unless you absolutely needed my help. Fret not, my dear; I give it freely. If it is to your convenience, I shall meet you tonight in your bedchambers in Alfheim.

To respond, simply write on the bottom of this letter, and it will appear on a copy on my own desk.

I, too, look forward to seeing you again.

~ Loki

I glance over my letter. For all that I want to say, it seems incredibly short. But a voice in my head reminds me that, although seeing Y/n will be fresh air for a drowning man, I cannot lose myself in her completely. She is married. And denial and wishes are no way to live for two people who must spend their lives apart.

After using magic to send the letter to Y/n, I find a book to distract myself while anxiously awaiting her response.

{***}

Y/n’s POV

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a piece of paper appear on my desk in a hazy green glow. My breath hitches.

“Ragna,” I fight to keep my voice steady. “Could you go and find out what the cooks are serving for dinner?”

“Yes, My Lady.” She curtsies and leaves my room. As soon as she’s gone, I snatch the letter from my desk and open it.

Seeing Loki’s handwriting, so familiar after such a long time, makes my heart flutter and ache. After reading the letter, I take a moment to breathe.

I will see him again tonight.

With shaking hands, I write a single word on the bottom of the paper:

Yes.

The letter shimmers once more and disappears. I bite my lip, doing my best to contain my excitement.

There’s a knock on the door and I quickly try to calm my expression. “Yes?”

Ragna enters with a curtsey, as always. “Lamb, My Lady.”

“Hmm?” I find my gaze wandering back to the desk, waiting to see if another letter has appeared.

“For dinner, My Lady.”

“Oh, yes!” I snap my attention to Ragna. Oh, shoot! Ragna. I’ll have to get rid of her for the night. “You know, I’m actually not feeling very well. I think I’ll skip dinner tonight.”

Her brow furrows. “What’s wrong, My Lady? I will have a healer come to check on you.”

She begins to leave. Ugh, I need this room free of other people, not filled with them. “No!” Ragna turns around, a questioning look on her face. I take a breath, trying to calm myself so I can focus on how to make a convincing lie. Channel your inner Loki. After another breath, I put a soft but assured smile on my face. “My ailment does not require healers, but thank you for the offer. It is nothing more than a headache. I would prefer to be alone. Please alert the guards that I am to have no visitors tonight.”

Ragna looks convinced by my explanation. “Yes, My Lady. I hope you feel better. Please call for me if I can be of assistance.”

I smile. “Thank you, Ragna. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, My Lady.” She curtsies and leaves the room.

Now I just have to wait.

{***}

I alternate between pacing and reading as I watch the sun sink deeper into the horizon. Every minute that passes seems ages longer than it actually is. A relaxing candle does nothing to help. I change my outfit twice before going back to the original.

Finally, it’s pitch black outside.

Should be any minute now.

My heart flutters and my hands shake. I find myself nervously tucking and untucking my hair, unable to decide which is best.

“Hello, Y/n.”

The smooth, familiar voice stops me in my tracks. The voice that, for a short time in my life, brought me both great peace and excitement like no other.

I turn around, unable to wrap my mind around the reality of seeing him again.

But there he is, just as tall and handsome and wonderful as I remember him.

“Loki.” The breath escapes me and suddenly I’m running across the room. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me with as much force as I use to cling to him.

“Y/n, I—” I look up to see him beaming a smile of disbelief. “I cannot believe I’m seeing you again.”

“Nor I, you.” I stroke his face, running my hands over the angular lines that were once so familiar to me. He hasn’t changed a bit. “I,” I take a steadying breath in an effort to calm my shaking hands. “I cannot thank you enough for coming to see me. I know there is risk involved for us both.”

He shakes his head and pulls me to the couch, where we sit. “I trust your judgement and I am here to help. What kind of trouble are you in?”

I look down at our hands, still intertwined. “Please, we can talk about that in a moment. How have you been?”

He shrugs, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, Asgard is prospering, minus a few rebel factions that would see us undone. We avoided a trade embargo with Vanaheim and—”

I smile, cutting him off. “I asked how you have been, Loki, not the kingdom.” An uncomfortable, insecure feeling pricks at the back of my mind. Why isn’t he talking about his personal life? Oh, how I did not want to feel this way. I try to mask it with nonchalance. “Tell me about your life.”

He sees through me in an instant. He shifts in his seat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “You’re asking me if there have been other women.”

I huff, annoyed at my own insecurity and at having been found out. “I am not!”

He chuckles lightly, returning to his state of ease. “You are, and that’s fine. The truth is, yes, there have been others.” He looks at the ground, running a thumb absently over my knuckles. “None of them stick. I’m not sure I want them to.”

Now I feel guilty. How utterly unfair of me. “Loki…” At the mention of his name, he looks up. “I am with someone else now. For as long as he and I both shall live, as they said in the ceremony. The union between Audunn and I is,” I swallow, willing myself not to sound full of despair over these words, “forever. I hope that one day you find someone who is good for you.”

He smiles softly, though there is too much sadness in his eyes. I pull a hand free to stroke his cheek, letting it come to a rest on his chest when the tenderness re-enters his eyes. “I did.” Subconsciously, I clutch at his shirt, remembering our fleeting time together. After a heavy pause, he grins. “700 years ago a sniffling child was placed in my clubhouse and I was told to entertain her.” He rolls his eyes playfully, leaning back into the couch. “How was I supposed to know I’d grow up to fall in love with her?”

Breath catches in my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him say that.

Loki can tell this affects me.

He leans in and I can see the deep emerald of his eyes. His voice is soft and sincere when he declares, “I do still love you.”

“And I love you,” I whisper without hesitation.

I’m not sure who reaches for who, but by the next breath, we’re intertwined. The kiss is desperate, hopeful, sad, and passionate all at once. Heat floods through my body. Vaguely, I realize that this is the first time in 63 years that I’ve felt desire. I’ve never once wanted Audunn as I want Loki. And as soon as Loki leaves, he’ll take this desire, this connection, with him.

Because Loki isn’t here for long.

With that realization, I stop holding back. Loki meets me there, and soon we’re undressing each other on the couch.

“Wait,” he pulls back, lips pink and slightly breathless. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I had a plan. I was going to be a gentleman. This is not being a gentleman.”

I smirk and quirk an eyebrow at him. “Who said anything about a gentleman? I called you here, didn’t I? And I think I’ve been quite clear about what I want.”

That mischievous look I adore pops into his eyes. “Well, if the lady so wishes….”

We pick up where we left off.

{***}

“To be completely honest, I’m not convinced he can. Audunn is very old.”

It’s the early hours of the morning, and we’re leaned against my headboard, comfortably naked, me tucked under his arm. Loki throws his head back and laughs, pulling our entwined hands up to his mouth for a kiss. “That’s awfully unfair of you.”

“It’s true!” I join him in his laughter, loving this time we have together. “All he does is grunt and then he’s done! Absolutely no work required on my part.”

He scoffs playfully. “So what, you’ve just suffered through sixty pleasureless years?”

Now it’s my turn to grin. “There are ways in which a woman can pleasure herself, you know.”

“Yes,” a glint comes into his eyes. “But why should she have to when I am here and oh so willing?”

He kisses me deeply then, shifting so we’re buried in the covers once again, him on top of me. We break the kiss, and I sigh sadly, knowing that our time is running out. “I wish you could stay here forever.”

“What I wouldn’t do to stop time,” he responds sincerely, laying his forehead against mine.

I smile softly, the sadness creeping back in. I kiss him lightly on the nose before pushing against him so we’re sitting up.

He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain why I called him here in the first place.

I look at my fingers, contemplating how I want to frame this. If I tell Loki too much of the truth, that Audunn is manipulative and abusive and filled with hatred, there is a real possibility that Loki could do something rash and ruin future relationships between Alfheim and Asgard. Norns, he could start a war! Besides, it’s not like confiding in Loki would change anything. Even if Audunn were to suddenly be removed from the picture, it is likely that I would just be passed onto the next eligible suitor, not returned to Asgard to be with Loki. With all this in mind, I go with a half-truth.

“I don’t love Audunn, and I don’t want to have his children.”

Unexpectedly, tears enter my eyes. It’s so freeing to be able to share this with someone other than Ragna, to not have to pretend to enjoy Audunn’s company, and to be able to be, well, mostly honest with someone I love and trust.

Loki runs a comforting hand through my hair, looking at me with understanding and sadness. “You will be ridiculed. Alfheim views women as being required to provide heirs for their husbands. If you do not…” He trails off, hesitation in his eyes.

“I know,” I assure him, gripping his hands. “I’ve already been subjected to some of it. It has been over sixty years, after all.” I look him straight in the eyes so he can see just how sure I am. “But I can handle it. I can handle anything if it means saving myself from being bound to Audunn in that way.”

Loki nods steadily, and I can see that he’s made up his mind. “I will do as you ask.��

I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Thank you.”

He brings a tender hand to my forehead and murmurs softly. After a moment, my body warms with the barely-tangible weight of his magic. I feel no different, but when he removes his hand, I know it is done.

“It will either take myself or another sorcerer to remove the spell, so if you change your mind…” His voice trails off.

I shake my head, completely resolute in my decision. “I won’t.” And, heavy with exhaustion and the weight of how my life has just been changed, I lean forward into Loki’s chest. His arms encircle me immediately, and I try to memorize exactly how this feels.

Because it’s likely I’ll never see him again.

He runs his hands gently up my back, easing me into rest.

“You’re a good man,” I remind him, because sometimes he forgets.

Before I hear his reply, I drift off to sleep.

{***}

In the morning, my bed is cold, and I know that he is gone.

A/n Happy holidays! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Also, stop by and check out my masterlist!

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639152911075672064/odins-ward-chapter-14

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki

39 notes · View notes

tarotinapinch · 3 years

Text

Pile 3

[stones pictured from left to right] rose quartz, optical cats eye (yellow), optical cats eye (green), optical cats eye (aqua), optical cats eye (blue), optical cats eye (purple)

1. Red - How to live more authentically

*Two of Wands

*The Magi

*Lapis Lazuli - Prophetic dreams. Releasing anger. Serenity. Grace.

*The way is clear. Awaken the power within you.

*Freedom

*Change - The changes that you're going through are positive.

*Storm Rider of the Lightning Moon

*Leadership - Step into your leadership. Share your message. Inspire and empower others.

Simply put, you can live more authentically by releasing past angers and aggressions, forgiving yourself for the way you may have responded negatively to things in the past, which will clear the energies around you so that you may find a striking moment of clarity where the way forward is easily seen and understood. In your life recently you may have been feeling stuck, but that energy is ending and within the very near future if you accept the changes that are coming your way. If you haven't already, you have a great epiphany upon you where you will see where exactly it is that you want to go with your life and the steps that you can take now to help you get there. There are many great changes afoot, and you are more than ready to take the risks because it's your freedom that is on the line. Take leadership of your own life and make the decisions that you know will help push you along to the goals that your heart longs for. The way is clear if you are willing to take the actions needed to proceed forward. You have everything you need already within you, so take that first step and don't look back!

2. Orange - How to nurture self love

*Seeker of Coins

*The Warrior

*Blue Calcite - Soothing. Inner Peace. Universal perspective. Strong memory.

*You have a sensitive antenna. Sensitive people collect emotions of others.

*Prosperity

*Love Heals Fear - The power of love can help bullies and angry people to be less afraid

*Pegasus of the Sun

*Receive - Be open to receiving goodness. Believe you are worthy of abundance. A gift is coming to you soon.

The best way for you to nurture your self love is to dive into all of the opportunities that surround you at this time. There are so many things that are available to you now that will not only help on your self journey, but also act as self care rituals which will boost that self love that we all crave. You are a true warrior spirit, staying strong through life's turbulent waters and trying your hardest to keep a positive attitude through it all. Just know that while this is admirable, it's okay to be sensitive. You are naturally a sensitive person, which can be a double edged sword: you understand others very well, but sometimes you get lost in the emotions, forgetting where their feelings end and where yours begin. Know that the best way through these confusing times is to focus on your heart and follow what makes it happy, what you truly love. The energy of love will always be a steadfast guiding light to pull you out from any emotional depth you may feel trapped in. While being sensitive can definitely be painted in a very negative light, know that it is in fact a super power of yours. It is your greatest strength as well as your greatest weakness. Learn to harness it properly through love and nothing will ever be able to take you down. Loving yourself first and foremost is the first step. Do things that make you honestly happy and see how your mindset and life begin to transform in front of your eyes.

3. Yellow - How to boost self confidence

*Ace of Wands - Energy, expansion, urgency.

*Play

*Blue Kyanite - Connecting with animals. Telepathic abilities. Finding your true path. Finding clarity.

*Trust in your new path. All will work out for you.

*Boundaries

*One Step at a Time - Lots of little steps make big dreams come true.

*Black Pegasus - protection

*Healer - You have powerful healing gifts. Have faith in your abilities. Stay true to your path as a healer.

The best way to boos that self confidence of yours is to embark on that new journey that's calling your name. That project or idea that has been bouncing around in that skull of yours for some time longs to be manifested into the physical realm by you. Is it most likely a pretty big undertaking? Most likely, yes. Most grand ideas are. But these amazing and life-changing projects always start as just an idea in someone's head, and they never form in a short amount of time or with no effort at all, no matter how "easy" people make things look. The truth is that you don't see all of the failures, all of the sleepless nights, all of the questioning of if they're doing the right thing, all of the negativity thrown their way from non-believers, all of the self doubt that tries to creep in, all of the times that they almost gave up and walked out on their dreams. Bottom line here is that the journey may have its fair share of rough patches, but if you're courageous enough to stick it out, take it one step at a time, and trust in yourself, you will see amazing results in the end. And this journey will bring you such healing in a way that nothing else ever could. Your self confidence will be through the roof as you look back on everything that you accomplished because you wouldn't give up on yourself or your dreams. And one of the things you will be the most proud if is the boundary skills that you learned along the way, which gave you more room to work, less room for negative opinions or attempted manipulations from naysayers. In all, know that you are divinely protected on this path, so don't be afraid to let loose and have some fun along the way. You are meant to accomplish everything that you dream of and more.

4. Green - What positive energy to put out into your world

*Nine of Cups - gratitude, celebration

*The Sage

*Earth - Abundance. Fertility. Harvesting. Logic.

*You are unlimited. What you can create is unlimited.

*Confidence

*Pets - You love and understand animals.

*Peaceful Pegasus of Earth

*Celebration - A positive outcome is assured. Celebrate your success. Enjoy your achievements.

The best kind of energies to put out and surround yourself with would be celebration. Celebrate any victories and be grateful for all of the things that you receive in life, whether they be material like a raise in pay, or metaphysical like a life lesson that you learn a lot from. The energy of this kind of gratitude will always bring you more abundance, more things that you need to propel yourself even farther down your path towards your goals. You are an unlimited being, always able to create whatever it is that you put your mind to so long as you stay within this celebratory energy. The more you manifest, the more self confidence you will gain in your abilities. I'm not going to say that everything will always be sunshine and rainbows, but you can definitely create that energy around you, which will attract all that you need. In tougher times, when things may seem bleak, hopeless, or you just feel completely unmotivated, the best things to surround yourself with are nature and animals. Animals are such intuitive beings and know exactly how to calm you down and cheer you up. Nature always grounds and rebalances your energies, bringing you clarity to situations that may seem foggy. You are destined for greatness. Celebrate your successes, even the ones that you just visualize within your head that have not come to pass quite yet, for you know that very soon they will be your reality.

5. Blue - How to best uphold healthy boundaries

*Judgement - authenticity, honesty, taking inventory

*Sacred Sexuality

*Labradorite - Shamanic journeying. Brave. Magical power. Higher awareness.

*You are the breath. Listen and connect to your intuition.

*Reconciliation

*Wish Upon a Star - Make a wish and expect the very best.

*Pegasus of the Water Guardian - protection, patience, and trust for something

divinely destined gestating

*Nature - Ground yourself. Find a sanctuary in nature. Connect with the elementals.

The best way to uphold your boundaries is to stay honest, with others, but especially with yourself. Forgive the times that you went against your truth, when you weren't entirely authentic with yourself. We all have these moments, it's nothing to be ashamed of. We were programmed from a young age that the opinions of other people matter to our own well-being, so we try to be what other people like, thinking that will bring us peace and happiness. But if doing what others like goes against your authentic truth, it will bring you nothing but anxiety, depression, and sorrow. Don't let the opinions of others keep you from living your truth. Stand tall and be proud of who you are at your core, you're meant to be different from everyone else. No one is meant to be exactly the same as anyone else, we are all meant to celebrate the differences that bring us together as a community. The best way to clear your head and sort out which thoughts are yours and which thoughts have been planted by the opinions of others is to ground yourself within nature. The Earth holds great wisdom and is always willing to guide you, should you seek help from her. It can be scary doing things for yourself if it means going against the grain, doing things that you know others within your life will not take a liking to. But know that you are Divinely protected while walking your true path. So go ahead and wish your biggest wish and expect even better than the best result.

6. Purple - What to be proud of

*Conqueror of Coins - grounded, hard work, routine

*Ancestors

*Titanium Rainbow Quartz - Awakening all chakras. Ultimate manifestation.

Vibrancy. Powerful shift.

*What does your heart want? Be free to manifest your heart's desires.

*Career

*Laughter - You need a good laugh!

*Pegasus of Vega - changing things that no longer feel right for you

*Adventure - Dare to do things differently. Manifest your travel dreams. Move to a new location.

Be proud of the hard work that you have already/will put into being unapologetically yourself. Be proud of the career that your heart calls you to, even if it's seen as "different", "unconventional", "unrealistic", or any other negative term that society wants to spin onto it. You're meant to go after your hearts calling, and if that means going against every one of society's "rules", so be it! Go on that adventure with confidence and be proud of how you break the mold and challenge society's ideals. You are changing what no longer feels right to you and that is so amazing. There is such a powerful shift happening, an awakening within your soul that is healing, cleansing, and aligning your chakras which will bring you even more manifestation power. Be proud of your self journey. You're doing so well, keep up the great effort but also remember to take breaks when you need them to restore your energies. Remember to allow yourself good times and laughter along the way! It helps to release negative energies and bring you into a more positive mindset. Be proud of the people you choose to keep around you, the ones that your soul is truly connected to. These people will only boost that self confidence and drive for you to complete your goals, they will help to keep that fiery passion alive. Overall you should just be proud of you and the choices that you have/will make for yourself, for they are going to bring you to success and victory.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 4

Hello, and let me once again introduce you to the whimsical world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

As Luz glanced back between Amity’s pale face, and Willow’s nearly bursting rage, the pieces started coming together. With widened eyes, she said, “Wow. She didn’t remember you at all? That is cold.” She shook her head, her cautious respect for the ambitious woman having taken a hit. She bit her lip. “Are you two going to be okay?” She hesitantly asked, her and Gus looking concerned at the reactions of the two girls.

“I-!” Willow started, before pausing, the anger draining out of her face. “I’ll be fine. They aren’t worth the effort.” She said, sounding exhausted and drained. She sighed, smoothing out her dress. “Let’s just get this night over with.”

“Indeed, let’s.” Amity stated, face regaining some hints of color. With that awkward moment finally passing, the group headed into what they assumed was the room Amity had staked out to host the Moonlight Conjuring in. Before too long, the rest of the guests had started coming in: Amelia, Cat, Selena, Bo, and Skara. There weren't many, but they came all the same.

The girls froze upon seeing Luz, Amelia audibly gulping at the sight of her. The group frantically glanced back and forth between Luz in front of them, and Skara, situated at the back. Luz resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t help any. She sighed, “Okay, look, I’m not going to assume I know why you’re all freaked out over me being here, though I do have a guess. I’m the security you were promised, and as long as I’m here, I’ll keep you all safe. Okay?” She finished, a note of hesitance in her voice.

“During the attack, someone I cared about was killed.”

The group turned towards Skara, staring straight at Luz, a blank, empty look in her eyes. Bo reached out, only for her arm to be gently pushed away. She stepped forward. “His name was Batthew. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, and he always went overboard. And now he’s dead.” Her voice sounded hollow, like she had no hope, no joy inside of her at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Luz said softly. If Skara was going to blame her for her friend’s death, she wouldn’t fight it.

Skara lightly shook her head. “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault those maniacs killed him.” She stated, getting bewildered looks from all. Tears started to prick at the corners of Skara’s eyes. “All I want to say is thank you for avenging him. Even if you didn’t fight his killer, you helped stop those sickos, and prevented any more people from feeling the hurt I felt.”

Luz blinked, feeling some measure of relief that she didn’t hate her. That relief quickly shifted to guilt when she reminded herself Skara was grateful for stopping the people who had killed her crush/boyfriend. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen the kind of things the Black Dogs get up to when allowed to rampage.” She shuddered at the mental image. “I was more than glad to stop them.” She said gravely. She and Skara shared a solemn nod at her words.

With that, the tension seemed to bleed out of the room. Amity’s friends were still noticeably nervous around Luz, but it wasn’t anything too bad, and a few, such as Bo, even made an active effort to talk and interact with her.

“No way! Humans don’t have healing magic!?” Bo exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

“Well, sorta,” Luz said sheepishly, scratching her head in embarrassment. “Back in the old days, it was a pretty common tactic of warring groups to attack enemy healers to deprive the opposition of their skills, as well as destroying information sources when capturing them wasn’t an option. Because of that, a lot of forms of magic and magical arts were all but lost, including Healing.” She finished, a soft frown on her face.

“Oh my Titan, that must be horrible!” Bo said, heart aching in sympathy of those whose lives were lost because they didn’t have access to healing magic.

“Yeah, I was honestly a little shocked when I learned that the Isles had healing magic.” Luz chuckled, arms crossed over her chest. “Still, efforts have been made to bring back Healing Magic, with assistance from those practitioners still alive in the world. Last I heard, Fiore, my home country, had actually established a school exclusively for the study and research of Healing Magic!”

“Well that’s a relief,” Bo sighed. “It might’ve come late, but at least it’s there now, and people can go get treatment when they need it, right?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” Luz said, cracking a sad grin. “Just wish it had come a little sooner.” She muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!”

Willow and Amelia were currently having a discussion about Plants. By all accounts, Willow was giving Amelia some pointers for upcoming assignments, particularly those dealing with more aggressive breeds of plants. Amelia frantically scribbled down the tips and suggestions Willow offered.

“Good, good, I can work with this!” Amelia excitedly exclaimed, relief and joy shining in her eyes. She turned to Willow, an embarrassed smile on her face. “You are seriously amazing at this!”

“It’s just some stuff I’ve pieced together in my free time.” Willow shrugged noncommittally. “I’m happy to share it if people think they need it, I just don’t see anything really special about it.”

Amelia gave a rueful grin, shaking her head. “And that’s why it’s so incredible! You figured all this stuff out on your own, when it took actual, fully-trained adults years to discover this stuff!” She gave Willow a sad smile. “You really are amazing.”

Willow averted her eyes, uncomfortable. Amelia may not have been as… aggressive as Boscha was at even her best, but she was still part of the group that made her school life difficult. But… Willow couldn’t find it in her to stay mad at the girl. She certainly didn’t like her, but she didn’t dislike her either. “Thanks, I guess?” She ultimately mumbled out.

Amelia briefly searched Willow’s face in confusion, before sighing in realization. “Look, Willow? About the whole ‘Half-a-Witch’ thing…” She started, proceeding carefully at Willow’s sharp look.

“Yeah?” Willow drawled, hackles raised.

Amelia bit her lip slightly, before continuing. “I’m sorry. It was a seriously lame thing to do, and to let Boscha and Amity get away with. Even if we weren’t friends, we could’ve done something to try and make things easier for you, but we just went along with it because it was easier.” She turned clear eyes towards Willow’s suspicious gaze. “It may not mean much now, but I will try and make things up to you. If that’s okay with you?” She gave a hopeful smile.

Willow mulled it over… but she didn’t feel any suspicions rousing at Amelia’s words. Sighing, she finally said, “I’m willing to give you a chance. I really don’t know how to feel about you and the others here.” She glanced over at Luz and Bo. “I honestly only came because my parents insisted, and because Gus and Luz were going to be here. But, if you really are serious about being sorry,” She gave a hesitant grin. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” The two shared a nervous laugh. A thought came to Willow. “Hey, do you know why Boscha isn’t here?” She asked.

Amelia gave a snort. “Amity didn’t invite her, and considering how she’s been acting, that’s probably for the best.” She explained, getting a look of mixed confusion and concern from Willow. She elaborated, “Boscha basically screamed her head off at Skara and sent her into tears after she burned her, and she’s been avoiding everyone ever since. And between her and Skara, every one of us chose to stick by Skara.” She finished. Willow pondered the topic. As much as Boscha had caused her grief and some heartache over the years, she didn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone. She’d probably talk about it with Luz later.

Gus was surprisingly hitting it off rather well with Cat and Skara. Cat had basically volunteered to be Skara’s backup nurse for when Bo wasn’t around or when Bo just needed to take a break for herself. Skara frankly thought Gus was hilarious, even if she wasn’t really in a laughing mood, as his energy and nervousness gave him a unique air to him.

“-And so yeah, Bo’s a member of the HAS!” Gus finished explaining, getting a look of shared amusement from his conversation partners. “I mean, I guess with everything that’s happened, our group and the Human Roleplay Society is gonna get a lot of dirty looks after the attack.” He concluded, a look of bashfulness and sadness filling his features.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to join the HAS to send a message.” Skara remarked, getting an incredulous look from Gus, and a snort of amusement from Cat. “I’m serious! You shouldn’t be getting harassed because of what someone else did. Plus,” She gave a nervous smile, “It’ll let me hang out with Bo more often.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn away new members!” Gus excitedly cheered.

“I’ll bet.” Cat remarked sardonically, giving a loose shrug.

Unbeknownst to any of the guests, Amity had slipped away, stalking through her home on the search for her parents. The scowl on her face would’ve sent even the toughest of the Isles’ residents backpedalling. She roughly shoved her way past the assorted Abomination servants, utterly unwilling to deal with even the slightest of delays. Eventually, she made it to her father’s workshop, him STILL tinkering over his pet project, her mother calmly sipping her tea next to him while going over some of the paperwork from the family business. “Mother, Father.” She said with tightly controlled politeness.

“Ah, Mittens! How is the party going?” Her mother cordially asked, while her father gave a grunt of acknowledgement as to her presence. Odalia stood up, moving closer, pulling Amity to her side. “I must say, I am most impressed, sweety! Cultivating new relationships for the future with exceptional individuals, a stroke of brilliance!” She said, a proud smile across her face.

“Thank you.” Amity bit out, before continuing, “But what I actually came to talk to you about is-”

“MITTENS!!” Emira’s voice rang out, accompanied by frantic pounding. “GET ME AND ED OUT OF HERE!!!”

Amity turned a confused glance towards Odalia. “Emira was rather adamant about supervising your Conjuring, and when I tried to put my foot down, she… objected, rather aggressively. I had to seal her and Edric in the panic room so they wouldn’t get up to any mischief.” Her mother sheepishly explained, looking both pleased and annoyed at the ferocity her eldest daughter had displayed.

“I can understand locking up Emira,” Amity stated, quirking an eyebrow. “But why Edric?”

“Mittens, we both know he would free her in a heartbeat, if for no other reason than because it is Emira.” Odalia drolly stated, causing a brief moment of solidarity to pass between the two. Yes, they were both very familiar with Edric’s peculiarities and the sheer depth of his loyalty to his twin. “Now, what is it you wished to speak with me about, Mittens?” Odalia finally asked, getting back on track.

Amity breathed in deep, forcibly holding back her anger. “When you spoke with Willow, you implied that you only knew her through our confrontation at school, would that be accurate?” She tersely asked, getting a look of baffled surprise from Odalia, and a raised brow from Alador.

“Well, yes! Where else would I know her from?” Odalia rhetorically asked, a note of borderline condescension coloring her voice.

“Hmm… I must say, that name does seem familiar, but I can’t recall from where.” Alador muttered.

Amity’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here’s a hint. My fifth birthday.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Odalia demanded in bewilderment, even as Alador mulled the hint over.

Alador snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah yes! Now I remember! Willow was the name of one of Amity’s playmates when she was little. When we noticed that she wasn’t developing as fast as her peers, we had Amity sever ties at her… fifth… birthday- oh.” He said, his usual tired expression widening into pale realization, even as Odalia’s own face shifted into horrified realization as the implications sunk in.

“Yes, oh.” Amity echoed, a look of bitter amusement on her face. She turned on her heel. “That was all the confirmation I needed. I believe that I will spend the remainder of the evening seeing to my guests. Mother, father.” And with that, she power-walked away, ignoring her mother’s cries to come back, to talk things over, as if she would. Amity ripped her necklace off, shoving it into her pocket, in no mood to hear her mother’s voice in her head tonight. Yet another blotch had appeared in her mental image of her parents. It was honestly mostly a black smear at this point anyway.

Eda glanced out at the sky, seeing that the Night Market was about to open, if the encroaching darkness was a solid indicator. She called over her shoulder, “Come on, King! We’ve got a shady seller to see about some potions!”

“Weh! I’m ready to go!” King cried, running up to her side, putting on a look of fierce (adorable) determination. She cracked a smirk at that. The two headed out, giving Hooty permission to use any and all means to defend the house in their absence, prompting a delighted shout of excitement from the friendly, if annoying, House Demon. Neither noticed, the heavy figure moving through the branches of the trees, stalking them on their approach to town, nor its bloodthirsty grin.

Luz glanced up from her discussion with Skara at Amity’s arrival to the room. “Hey Blight!” She cheerfully called out, only for her expression to shift into concern at Amity’s gloomy demeanor. “Something wrong?”

Amity sighed, waving off her concern. “It’s nothing, just an unpleasant talk with my parents.”

“Oh no, are they kicking us out!?” Gus exclaimed, a look of panicked despair crossing his face. He turned to Willow, clinging to her dress. “This is it! The moment of hopelessness as our dreams are dashed to pieces! Willow my friend, it was fun while it lasted!” He cried, sobbing into her dress, much to Willow’s exhaustion.

“What!?” Amity asked, baffled, before shaking it off. “No, you’re not getting kicked out, I just had something unpleasant confirmed. Please, you’re free to stay.” She said, bemused at the cheer of relief Gus let out, even as Luz and Willow shook their heads in amusement at his antics.

“Well, I guess it’s about time for me to start doing the job you recruited me for.” Luz said with a joking tone, heading for the door. She flicked a finger gun towards the group. “Save me some snacks for when I get back, okay?”

“Will do!” Willow called back.

Snorting in amusement, Luz made her way to the front door, planning on crawling up to the top of the roof for a vantage point against any attackers. Plus, she thought standing on a roof by moonlight was badass. Chuckling to herself at her inner geek rearing its head, Luz pulled the door open, only to go still at what she saw. Seven humans, all standing outside the door, staring her down. However, what really drew her gaze was the figure in the center, someone she hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Neon!?” Luz exclaimed in shock.

“LuLu!” The girl exclaimed, jumping towards Luz in a flying hug. The blue-haired girl eagerly buried her face into Luz’s side, a look of childish excitement covering her face. “Oh I just knew it was you!!” She pulled back, her face puffing out in a pout. “And here you are, having a fun-time slumber party without me!” She whined, flailing her arms. Luz felt her face go deadpan, even as the others, guards she figured, sighed in exhaustion at the antics of their charge. Yup, this was definitely Neon. Neon crossed her arms, a look of defiance covering her, admittedly adorable, features. “And since I’m here, I’m gonna be joining this party, whether you like it or not!”

“There is absolutely no way I’m talking you out of this, is there?” Luz droned, already resigned to the excitable girl’s antics.

“Nope!”

Amity busied herself with the setup for the Conjuring, intently ignoring the glances the others sent her way. She wasn’t distracting herself from the confirmation that, yes, her parents were callous enough to completely disregard one of the most bitter memories in her life, not in the slightest.

“Hey, guys?” Luz’s voice called out, drawing the attention of the group to the door. “We might have a situation!” Everyone was instantly on guard; Bo, Cat, and Amelia were nervous, seriously wondering if they were in danger, while Skara and Gus grew nervous but steeled themselves, even as Willow and Amity braced themselves for an attack. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but we’ve got some… surprise guests is all!”

With that said, Luz walked into the room. Everyone instantly took note of the girl tightly clinging to Luz’s side, a thin girl, roughly around their age, with messy blue hair held up in a ponytail by a yellow ribbon, a long-sleeved purple striped shirt under a vest, a long skirt going to her calves. She was beautiful, with delicate features that screamed innocence and gentleness, with brilliant blue eyes shining outward. Following behind them were six other humans, all varying in appearance, the only commonality being the immaculate black suits they wore.

“Um, Luz?” Willow tentatively asked. “Who’s this?” She asked, gesturing to the girl tightly hugging Luz’s side.

“Ugh, everyone, this is Neon Nostrade. She’s a friend of mine from the Human Realm. Neon, these are my friends and acquaintances from the Demon Realm.” Luz intoned, introducing the girl to the group and vice versa.

“Oooh!! It’s so amazing to meet you all! I am Neon, heiress of the Nostrade family, and these are my guards!” She cheerfully announced, wildly gesturing to the group behind her. “Basho,” She pointed to the tallest, a muscular man with a cleft chin, pompadour, mustache and sideburns, who gave a friendly wave, “Piper,” a round, short figure with prominently pointed front teeth, long hair with a significant bald spot on top who gave a small nod, “Baise,” a beautiful woman whose hair was done up in an intricate braided top-knot offered a short wave, “Tocino,” A gangly fellow with bright orange hair offered a smile, “Squala,” a darker skinned man with tightly pinned back hair gave a two-fingered salute, “and Kurapika!” The last guard, a handsome young man with rich blond hair, gave a bow, a polite smile on his face. Neon turned a sweet grin to the group. “They keep me safe from meanies who wanna steal my predictions!”

The assembled witches numbly waved in greeting. They all turned to Luz, who groaned.

“Look, I have no idea how they got here, but I can vouch for Neon, and I know her dad screens her guards to an insane degree. They won’t be a risk to us.” She stated, nodding to the group.

“Oh LuLu, you say the nicest things!” Neon cheered, eagerly hugging Luz’s arm.

“LuLu?” Amity questioned.

“Uh huh, LuLu!” Neon eagerly agreed. “LuLu was my very first bodyguard! Originally, papa kept me tucked away so my future husband would be the first person outside the family to see me!” The Witches paled. “But then I figured out fun magic, and papa made a bunch more money than usual, and he said I wasn’t gonna have a husband anymore, and he had his business buddies give him LuLu to protect me!” She cheerfully explained. “After that, LuLu took me into town a bunch and I had lots of fun! I got to shop for my own clothes, and didn’t have to wear dolly dresses anymore, and got to eat yummy food that wasn’t just veggies and water, and I even met a nice man who was getting money for his sick momma’s medicine and I gave him a bunch of money, but LuLu took him into an Alley and gave him her money and got mine back!” She just kept rambling away, even as her guards slumped over in exhausted resignation, a matching expression on Luz’s face.

“Hey, Neon? We’ve got some snacks set up, if you want any.” Luz said, pointing to the tray of goodies.

“Ooh! Yummy!” Neon cheered, rushing for the treats, eagerly stuffing them into her mouth.

The blond guard, Kurapika, spoke up. “Please excuse the Young Miss. She means well, but… she doesn’t have the most experience with the real world, I’m afraid.” He formally stated, giving a deep bow to the Witches. As he pulled up, he added, “I believe it is accurate of me to say that we are very grateful for you allowing us in. When the Young Miss overheard that her friend,” he gestured to Luz, who was currently staring at a wall, dead to the world, “was going to be attending a gathering at night with a group of youths, she insisted we come.” He sighed.

“By all means, this is no trouble.” Amity stated diplomatically, compartmentalizing the barrage of information Neon had blurted out, focusing on the gentlemen before her. Noticing the nervousness of the others, she asked, “Forgive me, but our Isles have recently been attacked by a group known as Oroboros, and everyone is on edge when it comes to humans, and while I mean no offense, I have to ask, do you have any association with them?”

The guards gained matching looks of dark loathing. “No, we do not.” Kurapika stated, his voice a mask of tightly controlled cool politeness. He relaxed slightly as he explained, “We were hired to guard Miss Neon so as to keep her predictive magic from being taken, along with her. While her father is, unfortunately, a high-ranking financier for Oroboros, we fortunately exist outside of that nest of darkness’ command structure.”

Amity nodded, filing away the information. “While I’m not sure how much you can actually say, would you care to explain how you all got to the Isles?”

As Kurapika opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by Neon’s shout. “We passed through a big gate filled with water, and then Zoop! We were on the Isles!” She cheerfully called over, before resuming stuffing her face. Her guards just sighed, nodding at her words.

“What Miss Neon says is true.” Kurapika stated with a rueful grin. “While we don’t know its precise nature, we entered this Realm through the use of a Water Magic based portal. It was… quite the experience.” He finished, a look of embarrassment crossing his features at some memory.

“Thank you.” Amity said, moving over to Luz, who was still staring a whole into the wall. She pulled in close, harshly whispering into her ear. “That girl mentioned she had been kept in seclusion until her marriage. How old was she to be during it?”

“Thirteen.” Luz growled out. “The fact creep was one of the few people I’ve killed and not regretted, at least not outside the abstract regret of killing at all. I honestly would’ve preferred to expose the corrupt monster, but I had to settle for putting him out of people’s misery.” She turned a burning glare towards Amity. “And Neon’s dad is even worse.”

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restingdomface · 4 years

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Okay I can’t believe I’m going there, but, Lan Wangji’s magical healing cock and also mpreg AU:

Okay. So. Instead of Jin Zixuan being a dick to his crush, he genuinly never had a crush on her at all, and in fact, it never came to light until the Sunshit Campaign started, but JZX had a crush on Jiang Cheng all along. Jiang Cheng, who, reluctantly, returns his affections. Wei Wuxian is disgusted. His brother has terrible taste in men wtf.

So. Things went differently this time. What’s the change here? Meng Yao never left Nie Mingjue’s side. Of course, he did the spying thing, but he never betrayed him (this could be a part of my idea where NMJ and MY plan to actually have him be a spy and send him off after a planned execution of a soldier that NMJ decided needed a death sentence more than banishment, or, an AU where MY presented the idea to Wen Rouhan that his coming to WRH’s side was the betrayel itself). Now how does this change things? Because I honestly and truly think that if MY didn’t go to Jin Guangshan’s side afterwards, JGS wouldn’t have had the sway to execute anyone else in the Wen Family, or do anything horrible like that.

TBH he tries to wipe out the rest of the Wens, but it goes so badly and this time MY isn’t on his side (lol you know JGS would have tried tho, imagine how humiliating it would have been to be publicly denied by your own bastard son at the banquet after wow) and so JGS ends up removed from power entirely and JZX gets made sect leader instead.

This means, that since JZX is about to marry JC, they’re going to have to move to LanlingJin instead of both of them arguing over if they’d move to Lotus Pier or not. Cause they would argue over that. This means that Jiang Cheng is going to be the next Young Master Jin and Jiang Yanli is now officially the Jiang Sect Leader. Nice.

So. We’re rid of JGS and everyone’s happy and MY probably isn’t gonna kill anyone cause now he can marry NMJ in peace and not have to deal with anyone else, where does LWJ’s magic healing dick come in? Hold on I’m getting to it. Impatient.

So. The Wens. Of course, before JGS was removed from power, Wei Wuxian was actually running around saving Wen survivors and gathering them in the Burial Mounds, so he actually has to be coaxed into leaving by his siblings and LWJ and even JZX and NMJ (who thinks this is rather like that one time he had to coax Nie Huaisang out from under his bed when he became convinced NMJ’s cat was a demon because it wouldn’t stop attacking his songbird and he couldn’t come out cause she was in the room and she would steal his soul but she’s just sitting on the windowsill and meowing at them and NMJ is just silently planning to feed her more and keep her away from the atrium and tbh plz NHS you’re 16 years old you’re too old for this plz stop crying) and it’s great. It’s just great.

Anyways. WWX is paranoid af. Like so fucking paranoid. Cause they have been attacked. He’s got 12 year old girls talking about what the adult men in the Jin sect did to them. He’s got a traumatized toddler on his hip that screams when he sees Jin robes. He’s got children with branded scarring on their faces and wounds you can’t even imagine to come from anything but torture. He’s paranoid. He’s trying to keep the kiddos safe. They’re healers, and he’s given them the tools to heal, but they’re scared, and he’s paranoid without his Golden Core, and he’s scared, and he’s not putting down the toddler plz stop asking, he’s keeping this one, shut up.

So. What can he do but make a few demands? The Lan sect may have strict rules, but they would never attack innocent civilians, and they have rules about killing even animals in Gusu. He asks them to send all the Lan guards they can to escort them to GusuLan. He doesn’t think they’d hurt them in YunmengJiang either, but he can’t risk it. He was there when Lotus Pier burned. Cloud Recesses didn’t lose nearly as many people, and he’s still too traumatized to spend much time in LP rn.

So they go to Cloud Recesses. This actually, also gives the other sects a lot of time to get some glimpses at everyone that came from the Burial Mounds.

Not a single one of them was a cultivator.

This is a little different than canon. WWX can’t handle the loss of his golden core in this one. Not to say that he shouldn’t have done it, but that the resentful energy is dragging him down to the point where all he can feel is paranoia and fear. He’s almost completely unresponsive at this point. He follows after LWJ when told to, and he holds little A-Yuan in his arms, but he doesn’t pay much attention to anyone.

Wen Qing tells them of the loss of his core, but not how it happened. Lan Qiren doesn’t much like WWX still, but he accepts that a cornered animal will bite, and WWX lost his main weapon right before a major war. Of course he would do all he could to keep himself safe.

Jiang Yanli offers for the Wen Survivors to be integrated into YunmengJiang, since they lost so many people. It could help a lot. They accept, since she’s offering them protection and help.

Of course, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli used to Spend A Lot Of Time Together in Cloud Recesses, so love is blooming there between the two sect leaders, and by the end of a year, they’re getting married themselves.

WWX doesn’t go back to LP with them. He couldn’t do it. A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning stay with him in Cloud Recesses. Granny talks with Wen Qing regularly, and A-Yuan is attached to Lan Wangji enough that Lan Xichen starts mentioning that he could attend classes there when he’s old enough. LXC is a WangXian shipper and is trying to get his brother to adopt the child. Y’all know he would. WWX spends his time arguing (loudly, but in a room with magical wards for sound so they don’t get in trouble) with a Lan mind healer that talks through his bullshit with him, sleeping the day away in one of the rooms of the Jingshi (because LWJ made him move in right away and WWX couldn’t even argue cause A-Yuan loves him too and he can ask LWJ to play Their Song whenever he wants to hear it) and following after A-Yuan as he enchants (and terrifies) all the rabbits in the field. Also getting yelled at (softly) by LQR for breaking rules. LQR and LWJ have been making it their personal mission to find a way to either purify the resentful energy so WWX can go back to his normal cheerful self that doesn’t jump or hide when startled, or to regain a Golden core so the yin and yang energies can balance each other and keep him stable.

Of course, JYL sends him a message that she’s getting married, and WWX pulls himself out of the fog enough that he can ask them to go to the wedding (he’s being polite, he’s going no matter what they say lol,) and LWJ accompanies him to the wedding. His siblings are so happy to see him there.

Anyways. Things get rocky when WWX hears them talking about kids.

Jiang Yanli will carry Jin Zixuan’s children, and they’ll keep the Jin name. They’ll know that all four of them are their parents, but it’s a way to pass on the name.

Wen Qing will carry Jiang Cheng’s children, and they’ll carry the Jiang name. This also helps to keep track of what kids are heir to what sect.

Of course, Wei Wuxian, the master of ‘I know The Most Obscure Bullshit Ever’, asks why they don’t just have their spouses children. There are spells and potions for that.

Well. No one else in the room knew that but him apparently. Well, they’re still going to go with their idea for the first few kids, and then they’ll decide if other means of pregnancy options are viable.

Anyways. Guess who else didn’t know it was possible for men to get pregnant? You guessed it. Lan Wangji. Who was also in the room at the time.

So. Wedding is lovely. They all have an amazing time. WWX is able to pull himself out of bed every day. He was even able to work on some cultivation items that LQR begrudgingly admits are amazing items and very useful to cultivation.

They go back to Cloud Recesses, and Lan Wangji combs through his and his uncle’s notes till he finds a viable solution to a return of a Golden core that they had originally scrapped because WWX wasn’t a girl.

To return a Golden core to a body by means of very careful pregnancy. Of course, such a thing would be considered stealing under normal circumstances, and most mothers would rather die than harm their child in the womb in a way that could kill them. But this was a method made to keep both parent and child from harm. A way to build the slightest lump of core in the parent, enough to stick and allow a base to build off of later.

Of course, without consulting Uncle (because the man would be horrified at the idea, and LWJ would rather be rejected by the man himself thanks very much) he takes the proposal to the man in question.

WWXA has to think about this one for a long time. He thinks about it while helping Wen Ning with zombie stuff so he can maintain a stable body. He thinks about it while writing letters to his siblings. He thinks a LOT about it while tucking their two year old into bed and reading him a story with the funny voices. He thinks about it when he spends a night in the cold springs with LWJ one night, close enough to touch the man, because without a Golden core, the water is too cold for him to survive in on his own.

He asks why LWJ would besmirch his honor like that. Having a child out of wedlock, his uncle would throw a fit. His name would be in tatters.

LWJ blinks, once, and twice. He quietly tells him the offer could involve marriage if WWX thinks it’s of import.

So. They get married. So they can have a child. Another child. Just. Yeah. Let’s get married so we can mate like rabbits.

They’re in love. Of course they are. But they’re also shy idiots. LWJ is a sex fiend like usual, and WWX quickly gets addicted to it, but they’re both too shy to say anything sappy yet. Well. No. Scratch that. LWJ is fully willing to admit his love to the world. But he’s a very quiet person. So he mostly just tells WWX how much he would do anything for him, and even eats his horrible poison cooking. Not even A-Yuan will touch that shit.

A-Yuan is so excited to be a big brother. His favorite place to lay is curled around WWX’s big belly and giving it kisses while A-Die scratches his hair and reads him stories.

A-Yuan finally gets his baby and Wei Wuxian gets the stability that a Golden core provides so he can continue using resentful energy to dodge the many many scrolls Shifu Qiren will throw at him over the years to come. LQR swears that if that man hadn’t given his nephew happiness and also many great nephews-

Anyways. The Lotus Flowers are all gay and all happy send tweet.

#jiang cheng #jiang yanli #a yuan #mdzs #the untamed #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #jin zixuan #meng yao #nieyao #wen qing #jc totally carries at least one of jzxs babies #idk why the whole fandom thinks jzx could never top #let jc be a pushy bottom plz #all the lotus flowers are pillow princesses in this one lol #jc and wwx get pregnant at the same time at one point and theyre both horrible about it #wangxian #chengxuan #mpreg

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mareenavee · 9 months

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The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 27: Echoes

26th of Morning Star 4E 202

Teldryn sat on the edge of Neloth’s bed, cradling a mug of canis root tea. His skin stung from the constant prodding and scraping to check for any remnants of the blasted Stalhrim. He was still anxious, if he was being honest. It made it hard to stay asleep. Tel Mithryn was almost unnaturally quiet, except for the low hum of the Levitation Runes and the rapid flipping of pages. At the moment, Neloth was poring over a collection of tomes while everyone else was sleeping. It couldn’t be long before dawn now. The perfect hour, really, for negative thoughts to swirl around unmitigated. He sighed and sipped his tea.

To make things worse, Nyenna still hadn’t been able to maintain consciousness for long, despite all Neloth was doing to help her. He’d theorized something about swelling in her brain combined with a disruption of the flow of Magicka through her body. It was as if the rebounded Shout had somehow broken her mind in more ways than one. The implications of that alone had him thanking Azura he’d even survived the Shout he’d gotten caught up in during that first fight by her side. He’d already decided he’d never underestimate her again, but now… Was it a death wish to stand so close to such power? Did that matter, in the end? He looked down at Nyenna now, sleeping peacefully, hair a tangled mess against the pillow, stress gone from her brow. It didn’t matter, come to think of it. It wouldn’t be right to leave and let her figure this all out on her own. She was a risk, but one he’d stick by until time itself came unraveled, Gods willing. He stopped mid-sip at the realization. Best if he didn’t exactly say that aloud, all things considered.

Neloth sighed heavily at his desk and swore in Dunmeris, his tone more exasperated despite keeping relatively quiet. Teldryn wasn’t sure how much of a healer he really was; even though he’d done incredible work after the Red Year, his personality sort of conflicted with the basic tenants of Restoration magic. To his credit, he did at least seem rather concerned and had even set aside the Stalhrim to study Nyenna’s condition. He’d also forced Talvas, his apprentice, to drop all his projects and papers to help. The boy was passed out on his own desk in the other part of the room, exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up to him. Varlais, too, had tried to help but ended up in more of a glorified servant’s role. He wasn’t really the thinking type, as Neloth had frustratingly come to find out. Teldryn had, of course, already known.

To Neloth’s other point, Nyenna’s Magicka was not loud now, not like it usually was. It hadn’t been for a few days, though whatever the affliction, it was at least healing. There was a huge difference from when he’d dragged her out of the Atronach’s lair. Then, it had been almost non-existent, barely registering at all. She was so pale. She seemed so fragile. She’d been speaking in frantic Dovahzul, almost as if possessed. And her eyes… Gods, but… It was too difficult to recall that particular memory. He swallowed hard against the fresh wave of horror. He’d been terrified. He’d lived long enough now that few things were capable of surprising him — but this whole situation had been almost too much. Not quite as bad as Red Mountain, despite the similar wrongness in the warp and weft of the place he’d felt, and the way their feet all had been moving of their own accord toward the danger. But it had been close. Living in the aftermath of that fight left him feeling somewhat hollow where fear had burned everything else away.

#o what's this? An update?#MareenaWrites #The World on Our Shoulders #Nyenna #Teldryn Sero #Teldryn #Neloth #LDB/Teldryn Sero #Skyrim #Skyrim fic #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #Weird Magic Shit #chapter update #new chapter #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

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damienthepious · 4 years

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Going Through Changes, Ripping Out Pages (chapter 4)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ao3] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, (uhhhhh sorta), Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, (WE WILL GET THERE…… EVENTUALLY)

Summary: Lord Arum wakes to discover that some things have changed while he slept. Namely, there is a human in his bed.

Chapter Summary: Two conversations, and a little investigation.

Damien isn't far, when Rilla finds him again. He’s standing out in the hall near the kitchen, and-

And the Keep has wrapped steady vines around his shoulders, clinging lightly and blooming in soft yellows and blues. Damien has his eyes closed, his expression motionless but tense, his lips tight together as Rilla comes close.

"Damien," she says gently. He probably hears her coming, but she knows how deeply he can get caught up in his own head. He sighs at her voice, clinging to the Keep's vines in turn, but he doesn't open his eyes just yet. "Are you-"

She doesn't quite finish the thought. Are you alright? Stupid question, obviously. Neither of them are. None of them. Damien's lip pulls to the side, a weak sort of grimace, and she steps closer. The Keep makes room, shifting some vines to brush her shoulders as well, a gentle curtain around the both of them as she pulls Damien into a tight hug.

"Rilla," he murmurs. He presses his face into her neck, inhaling sharply and holding her in return. "I… I am sorry I left in such a state. It was- I should not have-I shouldn't have faltered. I couldn't-"

"It's okay, Damien. I know. He- he was being cruel on purpose but you know he doesn't really think that. He couldn't have known it would hurt you like-"

"I know," Damien murmurs, drooping further to rest his forehead against her shoulder. "Of course he doesn't know that those particular cruelties would affect me. A rather cold comfort, I'm afraid, considering that his lack of knowledge is entirely the issue."

Rilla sighs, because obviously Damien is right. The fact that he could hurt them like that by accident- it almost stings worse than if the cut were deliberate. "I sent him to cool off in his workshop," she says softly, and Damien's lip curls into something wry, something that isn't quite a smile.

"I'm sure he was quite amenable to instruction, hm?" he drawls.

Rilla bites back a bitter laugh. "Obviously. I-" she pauses. "I don't know what to do now," she says, only recognizing the feeling as she voices it. "Shit."

It's Damien's turn to tighten his arms, holding her more securely with a quiet, sympathetic noise. The Keep shifts around both of them, humming low and brushing soft leaves over their shoulders, and Rilla looks up, raising an eyebrow.

"What, do you have an idea?" she asks, and she has less than zero clue how the Keep could answer her in a way she can understand, but- "I'm not willing to rule out anything at this point."

The Keep pauses, and then it sings, unsure but hopeful, and pulls open a portal.

Damien and Rilla meet each other's eyes, concern and hope and doubt and pain passing quick and quiet between them, and then Damien takes a steadying breath, takes Rilla's hand, and they both step through.

Arum steps into his workshop, the portal disappears behind him, and then he simply closes his eyes and clenches his hands and breathes, until he begins to feel less panicked, less uncertain.

He is too agitated to realize, for quite a few minutes, that he should have been much less agreeable to allowing the little knight to bolt off into his Keep unsupervised, and that doctor as well. When he barks out an irritated question regarding their whereabouts, however, the Keep calmly informs him that the herbalist has just now found the knight, that they are currently in a corridor near the kitchen, simply- talking.

Plotting, he thinks darkly, and then he scowls.

"If you say so," he mutters, and then after a long moment he sighs. "If they will be remaining here until this little mystery is unraveled… well. See that their biological needs are met, at least. Wouldn't do to have them starving before I entirely understand their part in this."

The Keep hums lightly, pointedly, and Arum growls.

"I do not care what sorts of meals they prefer."

The Keep hums again.

"No, I do not."

The Keep says nothing for a moment, and then it gives a very, very gentle trill.

"Well I do not currently, then!" he snarls, throwing two hands in the air emphatically. "What have they done? What did they do to pull you to their side above mine? Are we not two parts of the same whole? I exist to protect you- you are my sole reason for existing- why should either of us care about a pair of interloping humans?"

The Keep pauses, and then sings one short, gentle phrase.

Arum's frill presses tight to his neck, and then he attempts to scoff, folding his arms over his chest in a way that feels unfortunately uncertain.

"... ridiculous," he breathes. "Why should that matter? And- and it is absurd to suggest that they would have enough of a grip on me to effect- to make me- ridiculous."

It sings again, the same short phrase.

"I am-" he snaps his teeth together. "I am already-" he hisses low, feeling his tail thrashing uncomfortably. "It does not matter. What is the value of happiness, Keep? In what way does it serve to ensure your safety?"

The Keep does not sing in response, this time, but Arum can feel the sorrow that pulses through it in its silence.

"See?" he says after a moment, his voice stilted. "You can provide no answer to that, can you? Ridiculous. All of this is absurd. The only thing that matters- the only thing that matters is our survival. These humans are nothing but a threat to that."

The Keep remains silent, and Arum can feel that it is pulling its attention back, retreating from the conversation.

Arum attempts to consider this a victory. Arum resists the impulse to call the Keep's attention back. Arum pretends that the idea of being left entirely alone at this moment does not fill him with-

It does not matter. He sighs, turning his body away, ending the conversation on his own terms, despite the fact that the Keep surrounds him, despite the fact that the Keep chose to fade from attention first.

At last Arum brings his focus to his surroundings, observing his workshop, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as he does.

The experiments he has been working on are gone. Every one of them has disappeared from the space, replaced by newer creatures and tools that he does not recognize. Not only that, but the space- it has been widened slightly as his bedroom was, grown outward to accommodate wider workspaces, more tools.

Arum narrows his eyes even further, realizing that this space, as it currently exists, is meant to have room for two.

Some of the projects appear to be the ordinary fare, new traps and creatures with modifications to help protect themselves and the swamp, but beside them appear to be experiments of decidedly medical intent, and others besides those he cannot seem to determine a reason for in the least. They are magical in nature, of course, but he can see little else from which to glean their purpose.

There is a third pair of fireproof gloves beside his own set of four, now. Slimmer, smaller, carefully stitched. He stares at them for a long moment, an uncomfortable ticking in his throat.

Everything is out of place. Everything.

… He would not even have noticed the scraps of torn parchment shoved unceremoniously into the fireplace, if the colorful splash of the wax seal did not catch his eye. Catch his eye, and then stick there.

Even torn in half, Arum knows the seal of the Senate by sight.

It takes perhaps a half an hour to pull together enough of the scraps that he can reconstruct the letter, at least to the point where it is mostly legible, and his hands are utterly ruined with ash by the time he achieves his goal.

Some is still fragmented. If there were a greeting or a signature they have burned or been torn away, and though Arum can see frequent scatterings of words like Universe and Will and bits and pieces of aggressive posturing, the one paragraph he has managed to restore is edifying enough that he does not feel the need to continue scrabbling through the hearth.

It is the Will of the Universe that the monster collective does as it pleases. The Senate does our utmost to uphold this Will, and it is to our pleasure that the human infection be eradicated. By failing to destroy a growing number of humans - chief among them a healer of their kind, and a monster-killer - you defy the Will of the Senate, and by extension the Will of the Universe itself. You are going destroy them. The Senate assures you, Lord Arum, that it will be your Will to do so. A monster may only defy its nature for so long, and the human infection will destroy you, if you do not destroy your own small infection first.

Arum can see the holes on either side of the parchment, where his own claws must have dug in before he tore the page entirely asunder. His own claws fit neatly in those spaces, and part of him wishes to tear it all asunder yet again, if only for the letter's smug, self-important tone.

Evidence, he thinks vaguely, and the word comes in the little human's confident voice. Mention of a healer and a monster-killer, the doctor and the knight- the letter shredded and half-burned in the hearth- barely legible even after wasting half an hour in the effort-

If this is part of some enormous lie… it would be a nearly impossibly elaborate one.

Arum looks at the small pair of gloves again. He smooths over the torn edges of the letter from the Senate.

The growth within his greenhouse corroborates the timeline the Keep and the humans claim, the year he has lost. A year of making room in his home for these creatures. A year of dulling the sharpness of his claws, a year of experiments he no longer knows, a year of, apparently, deceiving and defying the Senate.

You are going to destroy them.

Arum feels his frill shiver at his neck.

it will be your Will to do so.

Arum's mind churns, confusion and frustration and fear, and he digs his claw into the wax of the Senate's seal. Their words certainly sound like the threat of a curse, to Arum's ears. And if it truly was the Senate who stole a year from him-

(The memory is gone. Utter blankness. Did he truly, honestly risk the safety of his Keep? Did he truly dig his heels in to earn the Senate's ire?)

He needs to speak with the humans again.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #sir damien #amaryllis of exile #the keep #going through changes ripping out pages #(yells loudly)#PRETEND.... that you don't know... that this hasn't been updated since literally christmas

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onwesterlywinds · 4 years

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Ingvald Bloodhound: There you are, you hellion. Helisent Wynter does a 'who, me?' gesture. Ingvald Bloodhound: Yes! You! Helisent Wynter: ... What did I do this time? Ingvald Bloodhound: My first-ever linkpearl call from my brother, and it's about you. And your antics. Ingvald Bloodhound smirks. Ingvald Bloodhound: Well done. Helisent Wynter bursts out laughing. Helisent Wynter: You should've seen his face when I fell off the cliff when he refused to teach me initially. Ingvald Bloodhound: Oh, he told me of that. I can just about imagine the face he made. Helisent Wynter grins at that, shrugging. Helisent Wynter: I felt bad for giving him a heart attack so I kept it to a minimum for the next few days. Lif Silverlode descends the stairs with several books in her arms and nods a greeting at at the two unfamiliar Hyur as she passes them. Helisent Wynter snaps her fingers. Helisent Wynter: You're ... Lif, right? I think we met a while back. Ingvald Bloodhound is still ready to berate Helisent Wynter - lovingly - but stops at the arrival of the young woman. Lif Silverlode squints at the woman, taken aback, then her eyes light up.

Lif Silverlode: Oh, you're...Helisent, right? I think we met shortly after I first came here. Helisent Wynter: Mhm! Yeah, that sounds about right. How've you been? Lif Silverlode: I've been well, thank you for asking. Work has been slow, but I've kept myself busy with the Sandsea's library. Lif Silverlode gestures to the books in her arms. Lif Silverlode: How have you been? Helisent Wynter: Terrorizing his twin brother so he will teach me how to be a monk, she says, motioning at Ingvald. Ingvald Bloodhound: It's going well. For her, at least. Lif Silverlode turns to the stranger. Lif Silverlode: My apologies. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Lif. Ingvald Bloodhound: Reading anything interesting? Lif Silverlode: I just found a few books on Sil'dih that I haven't read before. Helisent Wynter's head tilts curiously at that. Ingvald Bloodhound nods in greeting. Ingvald Bloodhound: Ingvald. Lif Silverlode nods. Lif Silverlode: A pleasure to meet you. What brings you to the Sandsea? Are you another Riskbreaker? Ingvald Bloodhound: Something like that. I patrol Gyr Abania most of the time. Lif Silverlode nods to Ingvald Bloodhound. Helisent Wynter gives him the most innocent grin. Ingvald Bloodhound shrugs at Helisent Wynter. Lif Silverlode looks at Helisent Wynter with relief. Lif Silverlode: I was actually just wondering that. I don't think I've met your sister yet, but I'll keep an eye out for her. Lif Silverlode: So how do the two of you know each other? Ingvald Bloodhound: We're both Gyr Abanian. We met at some point during the reconstruction, and she hasn't left me alone since. Helisent Wynter: He looked like he needed some brightness in his life, really, she shrugs. I also met Orella, his partner, while I was traveling through the Fringes. Lif Silverlode: Well, after everything Ala Mhigo's been through, I think most of your people could do with some cheer. At least you now have a chance at finding some. Ingvald Bloodhound doesn't quite know what to say to that statement, except for the opinion that he thinks “cheer” may still be a ways off. Ingvald Bloodhound: Hm. Helisent Wynter kicks his shin. Helisent Wynter: Stop brooding, for fuck's sake. Just be happy. Ingvald Bloodhound: Ow! Helisent Wynter kicks his shin again for good measure. Helisent Wynter: Or do I need to do something drastic. Ingvald Bloodhound: You brat! Lif Silverlode bites her lip, suddenly realizing how flippant her statement had been. Lif Silverlode: I am so sorry. That was insensitive of me. I did not mean to make light of what Ala Mhigo's been through. I am truly sorry. Helisent Wynter sticks her tongue out at Ingvald Bloodhound. Ingvald Bloodhound: No, I should apologize. As this one can doubtless tell you, I'm an ornery old man with little to no conversational abilities. Helisent Wynter: I mean, yeah, it's been horrible, but ... You also kinda have to learn to try and be happy, or you just stick in the same patterns of sadness and bad moods. That's why I'm working at getting him and the other block of wood to at least smile sometimes. Ingvald Bloodhound: You are deeply unpleasant. Helisent Wynter: And that's why you kicked me off to go bother your brother! Ingvald Bloodhound: Well, it worked. Helisent Wynter stage-whispers to Lif Silverlode. Helisent Wynter: He likes me, don't let him fool you. Lif Silverlode can't help but smile at the antics of the two Gyr Abanians. Lif Silverlode: I'll have to take your word for it. Lif Silverlode's smile falters for a moment as she feels a stab of nostalgia and longing, but she quickly numbs herself to it. Lif Silverlode: You sound like siblings. Ingvald Bloodhound sobers at that. Helisent Wynter: I implied that he and Orella adopted me, actually. Helisent Wynter gently guides the conversation away from siblings. Helisent Wynter: They both had heart attacks. Ingvald Bloodhound just sighs. Lif Silverlode: It sounds like you didn't have much say in this, Ingvald. Ingvald Bloodhound shrugs at Lif Silverlode. Ingvald Bloodhound: She knows I can throw her into an ancient Ala Mhigan pit if she ever truly irks me. Helisent Wynter: ...You know I can fly, right. Ingvald Bloodhound: Oh, I'm all too aware. Ingvald Bloodhound: ...And now, so is Wilhelm. Ingvald Bloodhound can't help but let out a single chuckle. Helisent Wynter sighs; a breeze that ruffles her clothes, despite being indoors. Helisent Wynter: True. I can only play that joke once on unsuspecting people. Lif Silverlode: I don't mean to pry, but who is Wilhelm? Ingvald Bloodhound: My aforementioned brother. Ingvald Bloodhound has never willingly divulged information about him before. Lif Silverlode: Ah, I see. Lif Silverlode nods, but does not pursue the topic, having sensed the tenderness around the subject. Ingvald Bloodhound: What about you? How long have you been a Riskbreaker? Helisent Wynter looks over interestedly. Lif Silverlode: Only a few months now. I joined up shortly after I first met you, Helisent. Helisent Wynter blinks at that, not having really realized that at all. Lif Silverlode: I'm still trying to learn faces, and there has not been much work to do, but I try to make myself useful where I can. Helisent Wynter: Hey, that's more than I can really say, honestly. I'm mostly here at Nive's invitation. Lif Silverlode: Well, you clearly bring some much needed levity to all of your dour countrymen. Ingvald Bloodhound: Have you been put to any tasks as of yet? Ingvald Bloodhound ignores that last comment. Lif Silverlode: No, I mostly impose upon the Grand Steward's hospitality and read her books, unfortunately. Ingvald Bloodhound: Then we've that in common, at least. Helisent Wynter: That sounds about right. I also heal people, on occasion. Lif Silverlode: Well, at least you didn't accidentally lure a foul-tempered Seeker here. Honestly, I'm surprised I still have a job after that. Helisent Wynter gives a slow head tilt of incomprehension and starts to mentally go through a list of any Seekers she may know. It's not a lot. Ingvald Bloodhound makes an almost identical face. Lif Silverlode: An old friend of mine followed me here and forced herself into the free company. She's a good person...but she can be... a lot. If you see a small, brown-haired Seeker with a scar on her cheek, tread carefully. She's prickly. Assuming she hasn't gotten herself killed antagonizing someone bigger than herself, that is. Ingvald Bloodhound: Given the nature of this company's membership, I imagine that would be most everyone she meets, if she's a Seeker. Lif Silverlode: She's small, even for a Seeker, so you're not wrong. Helisent Wynter smothers a giggle, mostly at Nivelth Ajuyn's offense. Helisent Wynter: I'll keep an eye out. Oh, speaking of short Miqot'e: If you want a research partner, Nive might be willing to help. I don't know if she knows anything about Sil'dih, but... Lif Silverlode: I appreciate that. I am just reading for pleasure, but I always enjoy talking with people who know their history. Ingvald Bloodhound: Supposedly there's an author in residence at the Sandsea. I've not met her yet. Helisent Wynter: I'm not much of a scholar myself. I can read and write, and I know a fair amount of history, but that's mostly because I travel around a lot. Lif Silverlode: An author... Might that be... Priscilla, I believe? The Ga-er... *ahem* Ingvald Bloodhound: Hm? Helisent Wynter knows that name from somewhere, she thinks. Then she turns slightly pink, and coughs, looking away. Ingvald Bloodhound: What. Helisent Wynter: Nothing. Lif Silverlode: I... met a woman named Priscilla who said she was an author. She handed me a book to read, but it had a different name for the author. It was... something. Lif Silverlode turns pink and shifts uncomfortably. Helisent Wynter: That they are. Ingvald Bloodhound looks back and forth between the two young women, and shrugs. Lif Silverlode: *ahem* Anyway... Helisent, you said you are a healer? As I recall, you are skilled in conjury, correct? Helisent Wynter nods at that, grateful for the subject change. Helisent Wynter: Mmhm. Gridanian trained, at that, though I left the Fen. Lif Silverlode smiles, pleased that she remembered. Lif Silverlode: And what kind of work do you do, Ingvald? If I may ask. Ingvald Bloodhound: Red magic. As to what I do with it, that's another question entirely. Ingvald Bloodhound isn't even sure of it himself - aside from hunting down fugitives and surveilling for Garleans. Lif Silverlode nods, inwardly pleased that her guess had been correct. Lif Silverlode: A red mage? That's a talent you don't see much anymore. I'm not sure I've even met one outside of a book. Lif Silverlode is very careful to keep her expression straight and her voice curious. Ingvald Bloodhound: Which makes it difficult to learn from others, as one might for a more common discipline. Helisent Wynter taps her chin, thinking. Lif Silverlode: I bet it does. I'm glad that there are still some that art alive, and I hope that a day will come when I can meet more. Ingvald Bloodhound: As do I. Ingvald Bloodhound looks around briefly. Ingvald Bloodhound: Speaking of which, I'd best get some training in. I hope you'll excuse me. Ingvald Bloodhound: It's good to meet you, Lif. Helisent Wynter: I've heard stories of the Crimson Duelists, while I traveled around Gyr Abania, actually. They sounded interesting. Ingvald Bloodhound: I'll tell you what I know of them. Perhaps another time. If you're good. Lif Silverlode: It was very nice to meet you, Ingvald. Feel free to seek me out any time you're here. I will be around for the foreseeable future. Helisent Wynter, in true contrary fashion, goes to kick his shin again. Helisent Wynter: I'm always good. Ingvald Bloodhound manages to dodge this time. Helisent Wynter almost overextends and faceplants, only to be saved by a breeze that seems to push her up from the ground. She makes a face at Ingvald Bloodhound. Helisent Wynter: Spoilsport. Lif Silverlode: The same goes for you, Helisent. I would love to talk with you again at some point. Helisent Wynter turns back to Lif Silverlode and grins. Helisent Wynter: Sure! I'd like to get to know you some more, if that's alright. I'm just currently sort of in training, and only came back to grab a few things. Lif Silverlode: Ah, right. The monk training you mentioned. I hope your training goes well, and you don't give your 'parents' too many grey hairs. Lif Silverlode smiles. Helisent Wynter: Orella's hair was already grey. Ingvald Bloodhound makes a straight face. Helisent Wynter: ... Don't look at me like that. I'm the light of your life. Ingvald Bloodhound thinks it's more silver, but says nothing.

#Lif Silverlode #Helisent Wynter #Ingvald Bloodhound

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fhjskfgh · 5 years

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❛ it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations. ❜

COURTNEY EATON? No, that’s actually PERSEPHONE TOOTS-HOOKUM from the NEXT GENERATION ERA. You know, the child of TILDEN TOOTS and DAISY HOOKUM? Only 21 years old, this RAVENCLAW alumni works as a BARMAID and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as CIS WOMAN and is a PUREBLOOD who is known to be TIMID, GUARDED, and SELFLESS but also FOCUSED, INSIGHTFUL, and LOYAL.

links: stats, pinterest character inspo: amy santiago (brooklyn nine-nine), chidi anagonye (the good place), lara-jean covey (tatbilb), clare (derry girls), leslie knope (parks and rec), topanga lawrence (boy meets world), triggers: miscarriage, missing parents, parental death (implied)

did you ever hear the story of tilden toots and daisy hookum? oh, a tragedy, to say the very least.

married young, in love from the moment they laid eyes on each other, the world had high hopes for a couple untouched by war. they were peaceful mediators, calm and content in their little word of greenery and love, and they lived well off the back of daisy’s successful book, my year as a muggle, and tilden’s continuing radio show, toots, shoots ’n roots. they had everything they needed - except a little child. [ MISCARRIAGE TW: every month they tried and they tried, and while occasionally it appeared they had been successful, the pregnancy never got further than four months before their world was brought crashing back down around them. END TW ] by the time daisy was 43 and tilden 46, they had all but given up - and that is when they were blessed with their first successful pregnancy, bringing into the world a beautiful little girl whom they loved more than they had ever loved anyone else before.

[ MISSING PARENTS; PARENTAL DEATH TW their beautiful baby girl, now named persephone, was four years old when they left her in the hands of tilden’s parents and went on their first trip together alone since persephone’s birth, never to return again. disappeared off the amalfi coast, a headline in the muggle papers and a small paragraph on the fifth page of the daily prophet. people cared, but not enough. they were famous, but not enough. and in a world once again being overtaken by purist ideals, what did it matter if two muggle sympathisers were gone? so be it. move on.

tilden’s parents were devastated and tried everything in their power to get a committee out to find the couple, but no one would listen to two old freaks with not enough money to their name. after a suspiciously quick investigation, daisy hookum and tilden toots were presumed dead and the world moved on. END TW ]

persephone toots-hookum, with a heart too big and eyes too wide for the cruel and unforgiving world she was about to be shoved into, moved in with her only grandparents (mr and mrs hookum having both died long ago). they quickly inherited the money from the toots-hookum household, enough to keep the new family of three comfortable in a small cottage not far from dublin, ireland. they raised little persephone with her parents up on a pedestal, unattainable kindness, intelligence, creativity and wit spilling from every new story seph heard. daisy hookum and tilden toots were heroes in the house that seph grew up in, and she treated them as no less.

with no ties to the pureblood society on the toots side and having practically been shunned on the hookum side for daisy’s decision to live as a muggle for a year, persephone and her grandparents lived in a limbo that separated them from the rest of magical society all throughout seph’s childhood. she grew up lonely, learnt how to entertain herself with a long book or a well-strategised game of chess with her grandfather, and oh did she learn how to hate blood purity. in all the stories of the fantastical daisy hookum and tilden toots one thing was always abundantly clear - they would never stand for blood purity and they were willing to die for that cause. and it was not just blood purity that seph’s grandparents hated either - no one at the ministry had been willing to stick their nose out to find their beloved son and daughter-in-law, and they couldn’t help but hold resentment towards everyone for not caring enough for two people who had brought nothing but love to the world.

these stories and this hatred bred paranoia in poor little persephone - she, herself, was a witch after all, and she would eventually have to attend hogwarts along with all the other wixen. what if one of them had ties to the people that hurt her parents, presuming they had been hurt? what if they hated her as much as they presumably hated them? what if she was destined to be alone forever because no one could love the daughter of muggle sympathisers?

of course, none of this was true, and though she was quiet and somewhat withdrawn, persephone would grow to find love within the walls of hogwarts. in fact, hogwarts was where persephone learned how to unlock her full potential - how to follow in the footsteps of her great mother and father. having been sorted into ravenclaw the moment the hat laid rest on her head (the same house as her mother), persephone embraced her innovation and creativity that had been cultivated in the quiet household of her childhood. she might not have been as book smart as her mother or as quick with a wand as her father, but she was clever and strategic and more than belonging in the house of the ravens. she would lace flowers together into a crown and smile at anyone that passed her in the halls and sit quietly in the back of the duelling club’s meetings, taking notes with the fury of someone who wanted to make a difference in this world.

persephone flew through her years at hogwarts with all the grace and determination that one had come to expect from her. she did well for her classes, she was respected on the quidditch team, and though she might not have been the most popular girl in school (in fact many people hardly noticed her) she was happy and content, proud to have those she called friend close to her. her grades were high enough and her skills polished enough to get her into any job she wished for once she graduated - the only problem was, she had no idea what she wanted to do.

persephone liked to draw, but not enough to become an artist. she liked to fly, but not enough to become a professional quidditch player. she liked to volunteer with the healers in the hospital wing, but not enough to become a healer. nothing felt like enough to her - all this talent and kindness and sweet smiles and she didn’t have the passion to fuel it anywhere.

feeling discontent with where she was in life and pressured to actually do something, persephone joined the daily prophet as a junior journalist, deciding that maybe she could take after her mother - maybe she could write. and for a while, she was quite good. she started out with small fluff pieces that simply filled the pages and moved quickly onto heavier pieces that made it closer and closer to the front page, displaying the skills she had inherited with her mother by moving ever so quickly into investigate journalism.

and as soon as it had started it seemed it was over. she was warned not to tell a soul of why she’d been let go, but she longed to scream about it. persephone had gotten too good, she’d gotten too nosy, and as soon as she had laid an article on the editors desk detailing the corrupt nature of the ministry in one of most bold investigative pieces yet, she was let go. she was threatened, albeit lightly, to keep her mouth shut. and if she were anyone else, this might’ve gone right over her head. but she was fired a year ago now and still everyone (including her closest friends and family) believe she left of her own will. she’s not scared, that would perhaps be the wrong word - she’s cautious. persephone is careful and methodical and knows that a revolution cannot start in chaos if you wish to win. she wanted a revolution so bad when she was working for the prophet and she went about it the wrong way - a part of her is guilty for what she did, and so she keeps her mouth shut. her findings were blown up in a quiet corner of the department of mysteries and now she’s the only one who really knows.

she’s been working as a barmaid for the last year and frankly she hates it, but persephone has never been one to complain. at least she has a job, she says, at least she has a roof over her head. once again she is discontent with where she is at in life, even if she refuses to admit it. she has no idea where to go, what to do, and she’ll continue serving the drinks she refuses to sip if it gives her an income. she hates it but she won’t complain - it’s not in her nature.

the timeclash came as a shock to dear old seph. in all her investigations into the ministry, this one had not come up - that they might fuck up so badly that people disappear and those from the past suddenly reappear. because of course it’s the ministry’s fault - she knows it in her gut. a part of her feels that itch that she felt working for the prophet again, that itch for the revolution, to speak up, to put the ministry under a microscope and expose them for what they are, for what they’ve done. but the other part of her couldn’t care less about investigation - what if her parents are here? her personal heroes, her knights in shining armour. what if they’re here, walking around, the same age as her with bright the smiles of someone who doesn’t know they’re going to die soon. she wants to find them before anything else - family comes first, after all.

#quantum intro #| ❛ a vision in the morning when the light came through. ❜ ( character study. )#hello! if we could all pretend this isnt 1 million and 1 years late that would be great!! fhjsklg

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Trial of the Magician (Pearlax/Trixya), Chapter 1 - Grey Darling

a/n: Hey guys! Yes, I am starting yet another new fic, but this is the last one for a while, I promise. Anyway, this is the first installment of a fantasy au I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and I know it’s a little different than the usual fare you get with this fandom, but I hope you all enjoy nevertheless!

Violet had always enjoyed summer nights, hiding under the blanket of darkness, a soft warm breeze blowing through her dark hair. She’d never know that pleasure if she lived a sheltered, human life, where everything happened indoors and nobody knew the pleasure of sleeping under a canopy of stars. Yes, being a mage - well, a poor mage - meant living as a nomad, travelling from place to place and never settling in one town for more than a week. But Violet liked that life, and although she enjoyed the occasional bout of ostentation, there was no way she’d rather live.

Of course, it’d be much worse if she had to do it alone.

Her sister, Max, sat on the other side of the campfire, scratching out a design in the dirt with a stick she’d found nearby. Although they were twins, the pair couldn’t look more different - Violet was all dark and sultry, with a tiny waist accentuating her curves and plenty of skin on show through her ebony clothes. On the other hand, Max was as pale and as pure as the moon itself - grey hair, pale skin, lanky, androgynous form. Violet often admired her sister for her cool temper, which balanced out Violet’s quick one in ways that had saved them from more scrapes than she’d care to admit.

She and Max had travelled together since their parents passed seven years ago when they were both just fifteen. It had been hard at first - their parents had always been the ones to guide them through their nomadic life, teaching which terrain to avoid for setting up camp, how to barter for and sell any goods, how to live off the land. But the girls were nowhere near ready to strike out on their own, so the first few years were more difficult than anything they’d ever gone through before. Yet through hard work and determination, the magical sisters had got through life as best they could, and now they couldn’t imagine living any other way.

That night they’d set up camp in the woods, just off the dirt path that lead through it. They were far enough not to be seen by the average traveller, but not so far that they’d lose themselves trying to get back to the trail. If Violet’s map reading skills were any sort of accurate, she’d say they’d be able to make it out of the dense forest by tomorrow afternoon.

“I was thinking,” Max began, scratching away at the dirt, “we could go to Fortbridge next. It’s close by, and I hear they’re short on doctors willing to care for the poorer folk.”

“You think they’ll pay us, though?” Violet asked, cocking an arched eyebrow. They were always travelling from place to place looking for money - that was the life of the poor, nomadic mage. They weren’t rich enough to afford a proper home or protection, so they had to keep moving, getting money from wherever they could, however they could. That was just how it was - and if they weren’t constantly on the move, then the mage traders would get them.

And that was equivalent to a death sentence.

Max nodded. “It wouldn’t be much, but it’d be something. Besides, they need help… I want to give it to them.”

Violet smiled - of course she did. Max was nothing if not charitable, and her talent for the healing arts was a great aid to her generous nature. She’d been born with the gift of restoration, the powers of healing and protecting coursing through her very blood. The number of cuts and bruises she’d tended to on Violet alone were countless. Violet, on the other hand, was an illusionist, a distorter of reality. She could twist and bend the fabric of the world however she liked - although she was far from an expert in her craft.

“Of course you do,” Violet said with a grin, her eyes flashing in the firelight. “You make me look bad, Maxie.”

“I do not!” she protested, looking up from her drawing with a huff. “I think it’s impossible to make you look bad.”

Violet tossed her thick, dark hair over her shoulder. “Is that why all the handsome mercenaries flirt with you at the taverns, then?”

Max flushed and ducked her head. Both girls had a certain allure about them - Violet, seductive and mysterious, Max, sweet and delicate. They made for quite the pair. “They’re hardly flirting with me, silly. They just want to use me to get to you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Violet chided. “You’re pretty, Maxie. Deal with it.”

A small chuckle escaped Max’s lips, but their conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of voices drifting from the trail. Exchanging a glance of concern, Violet and Max fell deathly silent. They needed to be paranoid, always on the lookout. There was every chance that any old traveller could be a mage trader in disguise, a horrid creature who kidnapped unprotected mages and sold them into slavery, separating them from their families and their freedom. To be kidnapped by mage traders was to lose oneself forever.

“It could just be a merchant?” Max suggested, her voice a soft whisper.

Violet shook her head. “We can’t be sure unless we check. Come on - if it’s traders, I can cast a cloak of invisibility over us.”

“It might be safer to stay here, Vi.”

“But we can’t afford that risk. Let’s go.”

Violet deftly hopped to her feet, her leather boots not making a sound on the dirt ground. With a small sigh, Max rose too - although with a touch less grace than Violet. As pretty as she was, Max had always been rather awkward and gangly, her immense height not helping her case. Raising a finger to her lips, Violet lead her reluctant sister through the trees, casting a cloak of silence over them to hide their movements.

Arriving at the edge of the trail, Violet and Max hid behind a thick tree trunk, peering out either side to see what they were dealing with. It was mage traders alright, made obvious by the large wagon pulled along by strong, athletic horses, their muscular frames shining in the light of the torches fixed to the wagons metal sides. One figure was visible in the dull orange light - a short, squat woman dressed in a ragged leather garb, pistols secured in holsters on either side of her belt.

“Zahara’s mercy…” Violet cursed softly under her breath. “It’s traders…”

Max tensed beside her, watery blue eyes growing wide. “Oh, goodness… Vi, cast-”

Before Max could finish, a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her away, Max crying out as a dagger was thrusted against her slender throat, its make crude but the blade sharp nonetheless. Violet’s eyes went wide, and she went to grab Max out of her captor’s grasp before she was shoved to the ground herself, coughing roughly as a booted foot was placed against her back.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you, little witch?” The voice of Violet’s attacker was slow and drawling, mocking her for her failure and throwing in a slur to add insult to injury. “Castin’ your fancy mufflin’ spells and shit.”

Max’s captor laughed, a gravelly sound that drowned out Max’s struggling whimpers. “We know the game by now, we weren’t born yesterday.”

Violet let out a gasp as her attacker removed her boot from her back, but that gasp soon turned into a cry of pain as she twisted her hand in her dark hair and pulled her up to her feet. “You a trickster, then?”

“Illusionist,” Violet growled, her whole body tensing with each foul slur they threw at her. “And it’s none of your business what I am.”

“Oh, we got a feisty one!” Max’s captor cried in delight, and Violet could just make out a wide grin spreading out in the dark. “What about you, girly? Got something to say?”

Max, always a timid one, didn’t say a thing, paralysed by fear and dread. Violet had never seen her look so terrified, and the only thing that stopped her from lashing out at their attackers was the brutal knife held against her sister’s neck. The muscular woman sneered, angling the blade a little so that it just broke the skin, and Max whimpered as a thin ribbon of blood started to trail down her pale throat.

“Let go of her,” Violet ordered through gritted teeth, her vision turning red.

“Hmmm… no, I don’t think so,” the muscular woman replied. “She’s pretty, ain’t she? What kinda witchery you got, girly?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Max croaked out her reply. “R- restor- restoration…”

The pair of traders exchanged wicked smiles, the sort of smiles that turned Violet’s blood to ice. Of the four schools of magic, restorers were easily the most sought after by mage traders - they fetched the best price on the market given how useful they were. Illusionists, on the other hand, sold for next to nothing.

Why did Max have to be so damn honest?

“Ooooh, we’re gonna make some coin with this one!” Max’s muscular captor announced with glee, a cruel, harsh cackle colouring her words. Her companion’s laugh was slower, more sadistic, characterised by the same drawl as her speaking voice.

“Think they’re both worth it? Little miss trickster here could be a nice bonus.”

There was a beat of silence as the muscular one thought it over. “No. If the buyers know the healer hangs out with tricksters, she’ll sell for less. Ditch the other one.”

Before she could react, Violet was forcefully shoved back down onto the forest floor, coughing as the impact winded her. She cried out as her attacker grabbed her wrist and tied a slim rope around it, attaching her to a tree branch so she couldn’t do anything to stop them. Violet screamed in protest as the muscular one reached into her pocket and pulled out a cloth, forcing it over Max’s face until her eyes rolled to the back of her head, fully unconscious.

Violet struggled and pulled at the rope, doing everything in her power to free herself and go after Max. She wracked her brain for some kind of spell she could cast to stall the traders, but she’d only studied her magic to the extent of simple parlour tricks - invisibility, silencing, changing how things looked. She could hardly bend reality to stop them - no wonder illusionists sold for so little, they were bloody useless.

She could only watch as her sleeping sister was dragged down to the wagon, the short, stout woman from before attaching thick iron manacles to her wrists - a mages worst nightmare. Those manacles stifled a mage’s power, dampened their abilities to next to nothing. So long as they were painfully attached to Max’s wrists, she was powerless to help herself.

Once the manacles were attached, she was unceremoniously thrown into the back of the wagon, and the sight of a second mage in there with her was only a small relief. At least she wouldn’t suffer alone - but Violet didn’t want her to suffer at all. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she wrestled against the rope, thin and deceptively strong. It was only when she noticed a sharp rock on the ground beside her that she saw her way out.

Grabbing it with her free hand, Violet used every last reserve of strength to saw at the rope, gritting her teeth as it started to split. With a panicked gaze, she looked over at the trail and cursed as she saw the wagon receding into the distance, the cruel cackling of the traders ringing throughout the night. Devils, the lot of them.

After what felt like years, Violet finally severed the rope. Wasting no time to gather her things from their now abandoned campsite, she cast a cloak of invisibility over herself and began her mad dash down the trail, praying to every god there ever was that she could catch up in time.

***

She followed them for hours, the depth of night slowly transitioning into the dull lilacs and oranges of early morning. Violet had thought she’d lost the wagon in the woods, the trees dense and the path twisted and winding. Only once she’d reached the clearing did she finally see it, the great metal box trundling down the road, pulled by its muscular horses who were ridden by the foul traders themselves. If she was a wielder of destruction magic, she would’ve ruined them in an instant.

With her cloak of invisibility still cast over her, Violet stalked towards the wagon, keeping her footsteps light so her bootprints weren’t too obvious in the dirt. But no sooner did she get a mere few feet behind the wagon did her spell begin to falter, losing its power after being held for hours. If it faded now, the traders would see her, and what good with that do?

“Shit… shit…” Violet muttered as her ghostly figure began to break through the cloak, growing visible in the morning light.

Spotting a bush nearby, Violet ducked behind it, watching the wagon from her hiding spot. Fortunately, they’d reached a valley, meaning that the wagon would be easy to see even from a distance - she wouldn’t lose sight of it now.

As she waited for the spell to wear off, Violet’s thoughts drifted to Max, her sweet sister caught in the jaws of the slave trade. She’d never survive it - traders treated their victims like they were nothing, unworthy of even the basics of human kindness. Max was a waif, with a delicate constitution and a preference for pacifism that was a boon in some situations, and a curse in others. Now, it was the latter. If those monsters hurt her, would she fight back? No, because it wasn’t in her nature. Maybe that made her weak, maybe that made her pitiful, but all that Violet cared about was that it made her vulnerable.

She’d already lost her parents. She didn’t need to lose her sister too.

With the invisibility spell fully worn off, Violet needed to think of a new plan. Hopefully, it had been too dark for the traders to get a good look at her face when they first met, so there was every chance she could just wander down the trail and not get caught. It was just about the only option she had - she’d used up all her power sustaining her invisibility for so long, so casting another would be impossible until she rested. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time for that.

So, throwing her hood over her head to hide her face, Violet carried on, the wagon in her sights.

***

“Hey? Hey, you awake?”

“Hmmm…”

“Can you hear me? They didn’t hurt you that badly, did you?”

The warmth in the girl’s voice was the only thing that cut through the immense chill that was sinking into Max’s bones, freezing her to the core. Her head was pounding as she opened her eyes, blinking once or twice to try and clear the haze that coated her vision. She knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Violet wasn’t there… Neither was the forest or the warmth of summer…

The memories of the ambush all came flooding back - the knife to her throat, Violet getting thrown around like a ragdoll, and the fear that had turned her to stone. With a start, Max bolted upright, a scream-like gasp escaping her throat, panic rising from her stomach and choking her. A soft, manacled hand rested on her shoulder, and that same warm voice drifted into her ears.

“Hey, hey! It’s alright.”

“It- it’s not… Violet… I have to get to Violet…”

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” the girl told her, a slight sadness to her now. “Even if you wanted to. Neither of us can.”

Max glanced over at her companion, a dark-skinned, plumper girl with a braided hairstyle commonly found in the north. Although she was locked up in chains, there was a smile on her face, albeit a weary one. “Oh…”

“I tried getting us out,” the girl said with a sigh. “But these stupid manacles keep getting in the way… Can’t conjure up a key when you’re all chained up, right?”

“You’re a conjurer?” Talking to the girl was grounding her, calming her down. If Max could keep her talking, she’d have more time to relax, and then she could think with more clarity.

The girl nodded. “That’s right. I’m Jaidynn, by the way.”

“Max…”

“Good to meet you! Nice if we could’ve met differently, but that’s life, I guess.”

“You seem awfully calm about this,” Max remarked shakily, hanging her head. It was taking all the strength she had not to break down in tears - she’d been kidnapped, taken to be sold. Unless she could figure out how to escape, which would take a miracle, her life was over forever. How could Jaidynn seem so chipper?

Jaidynn shrugged. “I just been in the back of this wagon for a while, I guess. And you look really scared, so y’know, thought I’d try and make things a bit easier for you. Because things are always less scary if you got a friend by your side, right?”

“Right… Thank you.”

Max tried her best to smile, but instead, her lips twisted into a frown as her inner strength broke down, and the tears flowed as freely as they could. As she buried her head in her hands, sobs wracking her body, Jaidynn went to her side in an instant. She hugged her as best she could with the manacles in the way, in the end just letting Max lean against her shoulder and cry into it.

It wasn’t enough to comfort her. It’d never be enough to comfort her. But at least it was something.

#rpdr fanfiction #violet chachki #max malanaphy #ginger minj #jasmine masters #kennedy davenport #jaidynn diore fierce #violax #dungeons and drag queens #trial of the magician #fantasy #grey darling #concrit welcome #submission #lesbian au

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