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stargazer-sims · 11 months

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*slams these on the counter* 🖊🖊🖊 three of your finest gushes, please!

lol the way this was worded made me grin @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

I'm putting this under a cut because it's ridiculously long. Seriously, anyone who actually reads all this deserves a gold star and all the cookies. 🌟 🍪

Hope you're ready for way too much information on the Abbottsford family...

Cam & Violet

Fox's parents are Violet and Campbell (a.k.a. Cam) Abbottsford.

Cam is a mechanical engineer who specializes in the design and development of medical and healthcare devices. He's a partner in his engineering firm, and is essentially his own boss. Violet is a red seal chef, and has been the head chef at the Harbourside Haven Hotel in Newcrest for several years.

Violet loves to travel. Cam isn't as thrilled about travelling as his wife is, mostly due to his anxiety, but he's fine as long as he and Violet are together, and he usually enjoys himself on their adventures. Their favourite place to go is Tartosa, as they both love warm weather, water sports and going to the beach. Violet loves Tartosan food, and Cam loves to photograph and paint Tartosan landscapes. They typically take a trip there for two weeks each year, coinciding with their wedding anniversary.

Violet and Cam have two children, fraternal twins Fox and Clancy. Fox is a registered social worker and works in the area of child welfare. Clancy is an officer with the Willow Creek Police Department.

Cam likes to joke that the gene for twins is exceptionally strong in their family. His mother and aunt, Catherine and Fae, are twins, Cam and his sister Fiona are twins, and he has two sets of twin grandchildren, Camellia & Forest and Midori & Willow. (Technically, Midori and Willow are two-thirds of a set of triplets, but they’re identical to each other).

Cam and Violet had a lot of misgivings about their son's relationship and subsequent marriage to another man. They didn't think Takahiro was an appropriate match for Fox, not only because he's a guy but also because he's from another country and English is not his first language. They were equally upset by Fox and Taka's decision to have children through what they refer to as "the alien science method".

Violet changed her mind the moment she saw Camellia, Forest and Matsu for the first time. She decided that if she wanted to have the privilege of being a grandmother, she would have to learn to set aside her prejudices. It wasn't easy for her to unlearn all the pre-conceived ideas she had about people from other countries, the morality of same-sex and mixed-race marriage, and the ethics of Sixamish reproductive technology, but now she considers her efforts more than worth it. She loves to spend time with her grandbabies and spoil them shamelessly.

Cam is still not entirely comfortable with Fox and Takahiro and their big, happy family. He can't say he doesn't love his grandkids, but he continues to struggle with his own beliefs. Although he does his best to keep his opinions to himself when he’s around the children, Taka and Fox are fully aware that he's not okay with many of their choices.

Forest is Cam's favourite. Camellia and Matsu, who are very perceptive, have already seen through Grandpa's efforts to hide his prejudices and they are not his number one fans. They don’t like spending time with him nearly as much as Forest does.

Fox and Taka won't allow Cam to be unsupervised with the kids. They prefer Violet or Clancy to be around as well. Both Violet and Clancy know why this is, but they've never discussed it with Cam as they know it'd likely cause a situation that none of them really want to deal with.

----------

Fox & Takahiro

Fox is a social worker, and he works for the provincial government, for the Department of Child and Family Services. His area of specialization is child welfare, and his caseload involves overseeing the wellbeing and developmental needs of kids in foster care, including ones who are being placed for adoption and those who are being re-integrated with their biological families. He's often thought about fostering, but he and Takahiro already have a full house, and it wouldn't be practical for them at the moment.

Takahiro is an early childhood educator. He currently works at a preschool, where all the students are three and four years old. His dream is to one day own and manage a daycare, but he thinks that will have to wait until his own kids are a bit older. Right now, he and Fox have their hands way too full to take on any extra responsibilities, especially something as big as that.

As a couple, Fox and Taka are a dynamic duo. They're good at balancing each other's strengths and weaknesses. Fox is a planner and organizer, and Taka is a person who gets things done. While Taka is good at seeing the big picture, Fox is extremely detail-oriented. They work well together as a team, and people who know them often joke that it's like they're thinking with the same brain. Of course that's not true; they have their disagreements, but they prefer to work out their differences in private. It's easy to appear as if they agree all the time about everything when they generally settle things between themselves before it somehow becomes public.

One of their secrets to success in their relationship is that they always put each other first. They both love their kids wholeheartedly, but no one is as important to them as each other. Despite the utter chaos of their work and home life sometimes, they make a conscious effort to have "grownup time". They still go on dates regularly, and every couple of months they try to get away overnight or sometimes even for a weekend without the kids. (The kids' favourite babysitter is Victor Okamoto-Nelson. Don't tell Aunt Clancy or Grandma Violet!)

Some of their friends don't agree with their approach, but they both think it's emotionally healthy for them to have time alone together. It allows the kids to get used to interacting with people other than their parents in a controlled, safe way in their own home, and it gives Taka and Fox the chance to rest, recharge and focus on things in their relationship that might need attention. It may be atypical, but it works for them.

As a matter of fact, there's nothing much that's typical about Fox and Takahiro's relationship. Their course was set on the day they first encountered each other, and they've been colouring outside the proverbial lines ever since.

After completing his Master’s degree in social work (child development & welfare), Fox decided to take a year to travel abroad. This was against the wishes of his extremely overprotective parents, who were convinced he’d never be able to look after himself and that something terrible would happen to him. Fox felt like he was essentially running away from home when he boarded a flight for Japan, and his parents felt the same way.

Fox struggled with being on his own in a new country, but he didn’t regret his decision to go there. He was having fun exploring and making art, and even though he was still scared and anxious sometimes, he found that he had far less anxiety while being on his own than when he lived at home.

He met Taka completely by accident; a fortunate and happy accident, as it turned out, as Taka quite literally saved his life.

One thing about Fox is that he has Type 1 diabetes, which he was diagnosed with at the age of six. He's insulin-dependent and has to maintain a balanced meal and snack schedule, and regularly monitor his blood glucose. When he does a lot of physical activity, his blood sugar can drop quickly, so that's something he always has to be aware of... but sometimes he gets distracted and he forgets.

That's what happened to him while he was hiking on Yukimatsu. He was busy taking pictures and daydreaming about all the paintings he was going to make based on his photos, and wasn't entirely paying attention to his footing. Because his blood sugar was already low (which he also wasn't really paying attention to), he wasn't as steady on his feet as usual and he fell and seriously injured his leg. Another symptom of low blood sugar is disorientation/confusion, and he was also in shock from his injury, so he lay in the snow for quite some time and didn't have the wherewithal to figure out that he should use his phone to call for help.

Taka was up on the mountain walking his dog when he noticed Fox lying under a tree. Long story short, Taka was able to call for help. Later, Taka came to see him in the hospital and check up on how he was doing, and what started as a chance encounter on the mountain suddenly became a friendship.

If anyone were to ask Fox and Taka, they'd both say they don't really believe in love at first sight, but they do believe in attraction at first sight and they're both firm believers in destiny. That day on the mountain, both of them somehow knew they were meant to be together.

They met in November, and by spring, they were sure. Fox proposed to Taka in June, and at the beginning of August when Fox returned to Canada, Taka went with him.

They may have promised themselves to each other quickly, but they had a long engagement. Taka went to college in Canada and earned his diploma in Early Childhood Education, which took two years. After that, they returned to Japan to get married and have their honeymoon there as well.

Currently, they live in Willow Creek, but they're having their new house built in the nearby town of Newcrest, not far from Fox's parents and sister. They're hoping to move into it soon, in time for their older children to start at their new school in September.

----------

The Abbottsford Kids

These six beautiful kids are here thanks to the scientific miracle of Sixamish reproduction technology. From oldest to youngest, they are Camellia, Forest, Matsu, Midori, Willow and Takashi (this isn't the order they're arranged in for the picture, unfortunately).

Fox and Takahiro didn't actually plan to have six kids, but they're not complaining about it in the least. Initially, they both went through the alien reproduction procedure at the same time and assumed they'd each have one baby. In hindsight, Fox thought they really shouldn't have been shocked he had two, considering the high instance of twins in his family tree. Camellia, Forest and Matsu all have the same birthday, with the twins being only a couple of hours older than Matsu.

Later, they tried again, once more assuming that it'd be a singleton (and being very wrong about it yet again). They decided that Fox should be the one to do the procedure for a second time. Despite the doctors telling them the first time that Fox was the higher-risk candidate for the procedure, it was Taka who had all the complications. Fox breezed though it the first time, relatively speaking, so it seemed more logical for him to be the one to repeat the process.

Fox's second procedure wasn't nearly as smooth sailing as the first one. The Sixamish doctors hadn't found it out of the ordinary when both implants had turned out to be viable with the first procedure, so they weren't surprised at all when there were two viable implants with the second one as well. Things started to go off the rails a bit when the doctor performed a scan and realized that there were actually three fetuses. Monozygotic (identical) twins are fairly uncommon with the procedure, although certainly not unheard of, but what made the circumstances so rare was that the second implant had also remained viable.

The doctor recommended a fetal reduction to terminate one or more of them, because of the increased risk of complications with carrying multiples, but Fox and Taka wouldn't even consider that option. They couldn't imagine losing any of them and decided the risk was worth it. Fox was unwell to the point where he spent the last couple of months before the triplets' arrival on bed rest, the final three weeks of which were spent in the hospital. In the end, the triplets came a few weeks earlier than full-term. They were small, but they were all perfectly healthy, and everyone was beyond relieved that everything had worked out.

Birthdays in the Abbottsford household are easy to remember. Camellia, Forest and Matsu share their birthday on 23 January, right in between Fox's birthday on the 16th and Taka's on the 29th. The triplets' birthday is 9 August.

Camellia, the oldest by a couple of minutes (as she frequently reminds her twin brother Forest), is the clear leader among the siblings and the self-styled Queen of Everything. She's outgoing and fearless, and enjoys defying expectations. She loves playing all kinds of sports, camping, doing tricks on her bike, climbing trees, playing in the mud, and generally wreaking havoc. Camellia is definitely not a girly-girl, and her dads have given up trying to get her to wear anything pink or anything with lace or frills. One of her favourite things is gardening, and she has her very own little vegetable patch as well as some camellia flowers.

Forest is the polar opposite of his twin. He's shy around strangers and hesitant to try anything new, and he can be extremely clingy, particularly with Fox. His favourite things to do are reading, listening to music, learning to play piano, and making art. Forest is already showing signs of being artistically gifted, and he loves nothing better than to spend a quiet hour or two upstairs in the studio, painting with Fox.

Forest and Camellia are very close, so much so that some people think their attachment is unhealthy. Fox knows better, of course. He's extremely close with his own twin, Clancy, and the two of them shared a room up until the point when he moved out of their parents' house. He doesn't mind that Forest and Camellia insist on staying together in one room, although he and Taka would like them to have their own rooms when they get older and are working towards that once they move into their new house.

Like Fox, both Camellia and Forest have Type 1 diabetes. They were diagnosed within weeks of each other just after they turned five. Camellia is completely unfazed by the necessity of getting insulin injections every day and even wants to try doing it by herself. Sometimes Fox lets her "help" him with his own injection, which makes her feel super important and grown up. Forest, on the other hand, hates getting shots and doesn't even want to look at the needles, much less try to do it by himself. Fox constantly encourages him to get involved in his treatment (and to be more brave in general) because he doesn't want Forest to develop irrational fears of everything, like he did.

Matsu, the third child, is the social butterfly of the group. He makes friends easily and seems to know everyone. When he was little, his dads had to keep a close eye on him whenever they went out anywhere because Matsu had a tendency to run up to strangers, introduce himself and try to hug them. Matsu continues to be affectionate and loves cuddles, especially from Taka who is the undisputed hugging champion of the household.

Matsu loves all kinds of sports, but especially soccer and swimming. He's full of mischief and is up to any challenge his sister Camellia throws his way. On any given day after school, Matsu and Camellia can be found playing in the mud with their toy trucks, building tree forts, kicking the soccer ball around, or racing around the block on their bikes. Matsu's other favourite thing is cooking and baking. He loves to help in the kitchen, and thinks it's great when somebody comments on food that he's helped to prepare.

Midori is the oldest triplet, with identical sister Willow coming next. Takashi, the youngest triplet, is the baby of the family by a few minutes.

The running joke in the family is that Midori and Willow are clones. Not only do they look identical, but they're also similar in personality. They can be silly and mischievous at home or around other family members, but they tend to be more reserved around people they don't know well. They're not shy and will happily play with other kids, but they prefer to be approached first. Willow is slightly more outgoing than Midori and seems to be the leader more often, with Midori as her willing follower.

Willow and Midori have already figured out that they look exactly the same, and that many people can't tell them apart. They like to pretend to be each other just to confuse people. This works especially well on Grandpa Cam, who still can't tell them apart. It does not, however, work on their dads, and the girls are extremely confused themselves as to why Daddy and Papa always think it's so funny when they respond to each other's names.

Midori's favourite things include playing in the kiddie pool and splash pad, dancing, and being read to. Willow loves to paint, dance, and sing. Taka and Fox may not have gotten a girly-girl the first time, but they have double the opportunity with Willow and Midori, who are princesses at heart and will joyfully wear all the ribbons and frills.

Takashi is a lot like his sister Camellia in personality. He's a charmer and a huge ball of energy. If there's paint on the floor, food on the wall or any other sort of mess, it's a safe bet Takashi is responsible for it. He's constantly moving, and it's really a group effort to keep an eye on him at all times. Takashi will climb anything, crawl into any small space and generally do any wild thing that pops into his little head.

Takashi loves to run around and try to play ball with his older siblings. He's always happy when Camellia plays trucks with him, and he especially loves it when she makes up her own adventure stories to tell him. He's also very cuddly, and will happily go to anyone for attention and hugs.

Random fact about the kids - Camellia, Forest & Willow have middle names, while Matsu, Midori & Takashi don't.

#sapphire answers #the abbottsfords #meet the abbottsfords #stargazersims

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stellarmelodies04 · 1 year

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FACT About My Sona Why did she apply to a camp? she drop out of school many times but she graduated at high school she is not interested on collage instead she is looking for a job, she was hire as waitress but her jobs did not go well due to lack communicated, she found a promotion poster for camp willow that maybe she can learn from camp willow to communicated well and oh boy does she in for a ride :)

Why does she brought her own cats? she is an autism fragile, anxious when it comes to camping she does not like stranger eye contact she once join camping when she was elementary without her cats but she can't not sleep nigth at the forest she need someone to a company her her teacher promise to company her but forget leaving her scared but some camp counsler guard and company her to sleep well thats why she brougth her cats just in case

Apperance her face is chubby it can poke her, or squishing her face but she will gets anoying her hair are dark brown and her eyes are like big eye with brown pupil, she is geneticly america asia she has a lil fangs and average her boobs are averagely big, her tummy are sorta fat, her hands are average (sorry i can't draw hands well) but really soft like her legs has a uniform camp willow, pink jackets, blue jeans pants and brown boots

she smell like flowers perfume cause she been using that

if they kiss her it tasted like sour sweet mint and the mint was because she brush her teeth

Hobbies drawing she loves drawing she could draw for her friends probably drawing the forest nature she wanna be an animator one day singging she is nervous when singing on the stage her voice whould be very quite soft that you can't not hear what it said but when she sing alone her voice are beautiful she is a gamer playing among us and minecraft with her friends, she has this japan rpg underated game call Mo4, she has a game boy advance on her laptop playing pokemon emeralds, golden sun, zelda and the minish cap, sonic advance and battle swimming is kind of like her mother but not too pro just simple fishing her dad told about fishing before he was pass

Extra she has sketch book and pencil, she has her phone brand samsung and a cat chain, she has her handkerchife for sneezing and cleaning up, she wear a mask because her shyness she likes to have a mask

About her she is very shy and introverted getting crowd whould drain her but she try to intereacted, she is kind and caring, sometime when thing get intens like serious argument she gets the moods easliy get angry her famliy was rich after acident happen is now average

does she have any other language beside english yup she can speak indonesia, taglong, japan and spain she allow harper to learn italy

whats her relationship status she has been in a relationship she has a girlfriend tho she cheat on with a guy realize that she looks like her dads she learn that cheating is not good she broke up with them they still being friend so she single

Relationship camp counselor Harper at first it was strange but over time getting close to him she think that he is just some silly friends she is comfortable with him :) Gavin she was tired of gavin flirting but it becomes like having a little brother Sophie its like her bestie their both love butterfly and she made a lunch box for her Jazz its like a mother for her, she put a trust on jazz because is the one who lead the decision, she told about why she distance to dante dante when she first look at him she is not scared at all of what people think of him she think it looks pretty handsome and cute but when dante use his humor it remided about his dad so she distance to him, jazz told dante about why she distance

sorry for writing this so long I hope you don't mind also its 30% parts of me I'm not an America and I'm not in any relationship at all i have like none this is just my counselor mc sona for @campwillowpeak

#camp willowpeak #camp willowpeak mc #camp willowpeak counselor oc #cwp vn #camp willowpeak vn #art #mspaint #my oc art #my sona #i'll be honest i am scared to disappointed

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 7 months

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The things we leave behind: FURY

A postgame Headspace AU set in the ruins of a discarded dream. In part 3 of 6, Aubrey faces her demons. This AU is easily the most indulgent thing I’ll ever write for this fandom, but I just rly needed to see more interaction between Omori and Sunny & sometimes u gotta make ur own food.

Sunny opens his eyes in an empty void. No ceiling. No walls. Just empty white as far as he can see in every direction. The silence is deafening. How did he survive for years on only this? How and why?

(Stupid question. Of course he knows why. This is the only place he could escape himself. The only place where he could still see Mari.)

He sits up. On the other side of the void, Omori is hunched over his old laptop.

“Finally,” Omori huffs, unfolding to his feet. “Can we go?”

Sunny opens his mouth to say something agreeable. His mouth says, “Where’s Mari?”

…Oh. He didn’t mean to say that. But now that he has, he doesn’t want to take it back. He wondered about it the whole night, the last time he was here. Mari wasn’t at any of her picnics. Omori said she was okay, but—what does that even mean? How can she be okay if she isn’t here?

Omori glares. “None of your business.”

“But—”

“Do you love your friends or not?”

Sunny’s questioned a lot of things over the years, but that was never one of them. “Yes.” Obviously.

“Then let’s go.”

###

Pyrefly Forest is a bloodbath.

It was always a ghost town. A horror story still unfolding. Melancholy scales in minor keys, plinking up and down a phantom piano. The silhouettes of dead and dying trees, choked by cobwebs and shrouded in fog. When you looked at them too closely, they almost seemed to move.

But this is different. This isn’t a graveyard. It’s a massacre.

The ground is littered with corpses. Not human corpses, thankfully—it’s crushed bulbs and shredded leaves, not cooling viscera—but vaguely appalling nonetheless. Strangely, the forest has never looked healthier. The leaves on the trees grow thick and glossy. The bark on their trunks shines steely gray.

Sunny squints toward the nearest picnic blanket. Empty. Like all the rest.

“So,” he says, testing the waters. “Mari’s not at the picnics.”

Omori doesn’t answer.

“But you said she’s okay.”

A curt nod.

“Can I see her?”

“No,” Omori says coldly. “Any more stupid questions?”

Yes. Definitely. A lot. But he doesn’t want to push his luck. “...No?”

“Good.”

###

They find Aubrey by the Weeping Willow’s spring, playing whack-a-mole with half the population of Sprout Mole Village. In lieu of her bat, she’s swinging a ludicrously oversized crowbar, a flashy cartoon weapon in a distinctly different artstyle. Maybe she brought it with her?

When she spots Sunny, she throws an arm up in greeting. “Yo, what’s up! You wanna help me smash these weird rats?”

Sunny darts a glance at his alter ego. Omori’s eyes have gone round with wonder. He obviously didn’t expect Aubrey to be so buff. Or so heavily tattooed. Or so… pink.

“She’s pretty cool, huh.”

“Die,” Omori says immediately.

Sunny gives him a knowing look.

Omori counters with a withering glare. “We might need back-up… Wait here. I’ll call Kel.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Whatever’s going on with Headspace-Aubrey, Kel is bound to make it worse. When Omori just stares, Sunny grimaces. “Aubrey’s… easily embarrassed.”

“What? No she isn’t.”

Sunny can’t help laughing. “You might not know her as well as you think.”

“You might not know what you’re talking about.”

“Two Sunny’s, huh?” Aubrey asks cheerfully. Both of them jump. In the time they were arguing, she must’ve closed in. “Cool, cool. So, were you guys gonna help me fight these weird bugs or not?”

Sunny looks to Omori, who rolls his eyes. “Just make her come with us.”

###

As Omori leads them through the fog, Aubrey elbows Sunny. “So… what’s with the sidekick?”

That gets Omori’s attention. He whips around with both hands curled to fists. “I am not his sidekick.”

“Hah! Oh, man. I forgot how much of a brat you were at that age. You remember that time Kel spilled juice on your sketchbook and you made him sit in the corner?”

“...No,” Sunny lies.

“You made him a dunce cap! Oh my god, he wore it for hours. And when he asked if he could take it off you said— You said, Do you think you’ve learned your lesson? And he said—”

Sunny can’t hold back a snort of laughter. “He said no.”

“He totally said no!!! Oh my god, what a fucking moron. Whoops. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t cuss in front of your inner child.”

“I am not—” Omori sputters.

“Aw, c’mon, Sunshine,” she tells him, one-handing her crowbar so she can mess up his hair. If Sunny tried something like that, he’d lose that hand. But apparently Aubrey gets special treatment. “You know I’m just playing. Can you blame me? You were fuckin’ adorable. Like an angry little kitty cat.”

Omori’s face turns red, then white. He glares at Sunny. “Make her stop.”

Sunny shrugs. “I’m not her supervisor.”

“And thank god for that,” Aubrey agrees. “Hey, so where are we going, anyway? Between you and me, I’m pretty sure this isn’t real.”

Sunny’s gone back and forth on that himself. “I don’t know. Omori?”

Omori doesn’t answer.

“Pfff,” Aubrey snorts. “Silent treatment, huh? Now I’m getting all nostalgic.”

Sunny can practically see the steam rising from Omori’s ears. “You should probably stop messing with him,” he tells Aubrey. “He does have a knife.”

“Aw, Sunny. It’s so cute that you think you could get near me with that thing.”

“I’ve done it before,” Sunny sniffs.

“Only ‘cause you took me by surprise. And it was two against one. Totally doesn’t count.”

“Will you two shut up?” Omori hisses over his shoulder. “Or do you want to get eaten?”

Sunny’s eye narrows. As far as he knows, there isn’t anything in Headspace that eats people. Or at least, there didn’t used to be.

Aubrey opens her mouth to argue. But before she can get a word out, a deep, rattling snarl rumbles through the trees. Even with its source far out of sight, Sunny can feel it buzzing in his chest.

Aubrey’s eyebrows go up, and her mouth clacks shut.

###

The further they walk, the louder the growling gets. Sunny walks a little closer to Aubrey. He’s increasingly convinced that he knows who’s making all that noise.

At the Pyrefly Pluto stop, just south of what used to be Sweetheart’s Castle, Omori finally stops. That rattling snarl isn’t in the background anymore. It’s loud enough to shake the ground under their feet. The grass is littered with dead leaves, shaken from their branches by sheer sonic force. The air is thick with the scent of decay, musty and sickly-sweet. The forest is barren. All the trees here are dead.

“Wait here,” Omori mutters, and darts ahead. In an instant, he’s swallowed by the fog.

Aubrey elbows Sunny. “Dude. What’s the deal.”

Oh. “Sorry. We’re—um. You’re… dreaming.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. There’s not usually two of you.”

…Right. “And we have to go—do something. Talk to someone, or… something like that. Like a quest.” As cover stories go, it’s not very inspired. But it is more-or-less true.

“Uh huh,” she says. “But like. Why?”

Ugh. Of course Aubrey wouldn’t just go along with it. She was always going to be harder than Kel. “We just have to.” No, that’s not going to work either. Aubrey doesn't take orders from anyone. “I need you to?” he tries. “As a favor. …Please.”

“Well,” she drawls, smirking a little. “I guess if you need me.”

He rolls his eye at her. “Really it’s Omori. The other one. Oh. And you should probably stop calling him—”

“Shh,” she hisses, stiffening. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“In the trees. It was— I thought I saw something.”

Something. But does that mean— Could she be talking about—

Sunny’s heart leaps. He knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up but he can’t help it. He misses her so much. He whips around, scanning the treeline for a familiar silhouette. Long and dark, with one glaring white eye.

A blur of motion flits between the trees. Lightless, eyeless. Almost formless. Just a shadow among shadows. He only sees it for a moment before it vanishes, lost to the surrounding dark.

When he turns around, it’s looming over Aubrey.

(In Sunny’s memories, the Stranger is just a black-and-gray version of Basil. He wasn’t even scary, really. Just lonely, and sad, and strangely magnetic. Wherever he appeared, Omori couldn’t help but follow.

But Sunny isn’t running Headspace anymore.)

The Stranger’s limbs have lengthened, stretched sapling-long and pencil-thin. When he stands half-hunched, his knuckles scrape the grass. His fingers, hooked like talons, are tipped with jagged claws. His legs don't end in feet, but cloven, pointed hooves. And there’s something hanging from his neck. A loop of slick black rope. It drags behind him like a rat’s tail, heavy and unnervingly greasy.

“You,” the Stranger hisses, close against Aubrey’s ear. His voice is like spider's legs. Like dead leaves over dry bone. “You remind me of sss-s-someone.”

Omori materializes out of the fog with his knife already drawn. “Easy, Stranger,” he says warningly.

Aubrey doesn’t flinch. She might as well be carved from stone.

“You aren’t afraid,” the Stranger cackles. “Eh-hehe-heh-he. You were always-s-sss braver than the ressst of us.”

“Wait.” Aubrey’s eyes widen. “Basil???”

The shadow lets loose a wild laugh. “Ohhh, you are interesting, aren’t you? Mmh… Such an a-a-angrrrry little bunny.” When he stutters, his neck clicks and jerks like bad claymation. “A r-rrrRRRHhrr-rabbit hunting wolves. And now you’ve found them.” He twitches closer, breathing down her neck. “You want me to hurt you, don’t you? I can s-sss-smell it on your ssskin. All the things you think you deserve.”

“Stranger,” Omori says again.

“Eh heh heh. Ohh-h-h, calm down, Omori. I'm not here to break your toys. I was only sssaying hello.”

“We’re looking for Aubrey,” Omori says calmly. In the background, the real Aubrey looks confounded. “She isn’t in her fortress. Do you know where she went?”

“I know where ev~eryone is. The princess-s-ss is out hunting. Rabbitsss,” with a savage grin for Aubrey. “Glutting on blood and sinew and s-s-ssssucking the marrow from their little bones.”

Omori doesn’t back off. “Where?”

“I could take you,” the Stranger whispers. His smile is a knife-wound. It slits his face from ear to tufted ear. “But she won’t s-s-ssee you. She hatesssss us.”

Omori gestures impatiently, like that goes without saying. “Just tell me where to go.”

###

“What the fuck,” Aubrey says succinctly, after the Stranger sends them on their way.

Sunny isn’t listening. He’s too busy trying to catch up to Omori. “The Stranger. He’s not not all messed up. Or—not as much. Not like Kel.”

Omori doesn’t slow down. If anything, he walks even faster.

Sunny lets out a frustrated breath. “Omori.”

“What.”

“Why isn’t he all messed up?”

Omori huffs irritably. “He’s another exception. Obviously. Like Longlegs. And me.”

“And Mari.”

Omori doesn’t answer.

“He didn’t sound different,” Sunny mumbles. He didn’t even act different, really. “But he looked—”

Omori whips around with his teeth bared. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want everyone to stay exactly how you left them? This place isn’t yours anymore, Dreamer. You left. You don’t get a vote.”

Sunny frowns. Does that mean that Mari’s different, too? Is she even still his sister anymore? Or is she just another monster? “Is that what happened to—”

“You don’t get to ask me about Mari.”

“Um,” Aubrey cuts in. When both of them turn to glare, she laughs nervously. “Heh. Uh… Sorry to interrupt, I guess? I just had a question.”

“What,” Sunny says impatiently.

“Uh. I guess basically… What the fuck?”

“Shh,” Omori hisses, grabbing them both and yanking them back into the bushes. “She’s close.”

###

A flurry of rabbits streams past, a river of white fur and terrified eyes. Crow scatter and screech. The trees tremble.

And then they see her.

Captain Kel was swollen to Looney Toons proportions, but at least he was recognizably human. This creature is decidedly not. Sunny can tell, because humans don’t typically grow as tall as a fucking house. And they’re definitely not supposed to be covered with plush, feathery pink fur.

The monster’s eyes are huge and dark, but the light that glitters in its pupils glows an unnerving blood-red. As far as Sunny can tell, it’s not any one animal, just a chaotic jangle of monster parts: rabbit’s haunches and ram’s horns and a colossal crocodile maw of shark’s teeth, all smushed together into the world’s ugliest chimera. It looks like what would happen if you put eight tertiary predators in a blender and set it to puree.

Filmy threads from Aubrey’s old nightdress still cling to the monster’s paws, and the entire front half of its body is spattered red. Its round, lizardlike muzzle is drenched in it. But the ribbon Mari gave her is still pristine, tied in a neat bow around her neck. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

Sunny looks at Omori. Omori nods.

Sunny just stares. Because—what? What is he supposed to do about this? Aubrey might be tough enough to come out on top of nine out of ten bar fights, but even she can’t take down a monster the size of a school bus. It doesn’t even look like her. Except for the bow, maybe. And the eyes.

But when he turns to see how the real Aubrey is doing, her face is gone cold. Her fists are clenched, her jaw set.

“So,” she says darkly, once the monster’s lumbered out of range. “That’s the quest.”

It isn’t a question, but Sunny answers anyway. “Yes.”

“It’s me.”

“...Yes.”

The breath hisses through her teeth. “Right. Sure. Of course it is.”

Omori looks taken aback, but Sunny is barely surprised. Aubrey was always more self-aware than the rest of them. She isn’t like Kel, who’ll only take a good hard look at himself if you take his head in your hands and make him. Aubrey sees to the heart of things. It’s why she was so quick to recognize Stranger, even though it took Sunny years and years.

Besides. Aubrey might be all grown up, but that doesn't mean that she can always see it. It’s all too easy for her to see herself in a monster.

Sunny frowns and tugs on her elbow. “It isn’t really.”

“Hahh?” she demands, twisting around to glare. “Which one is it?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. “It’s just a piece,” he tries. “Not even a big piece.”

Aubrey softens. “Y-Yeah. I know. Sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Okay,” she mutters, and shakes herself off. “Okay. So this is, what? Some kinda vision quest? Hunting my inner demons, or some shit?”

“...Something like that.”

“So why are you here? Fucking, twice, I might add?”

Sunny shrugs.

“‘Cause it seems like it’d be a guilt thing, but—if I’m honest, I feel way worse about Basil. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Hrmm.” Aubrey holds her frown for a moment longer and then rolls up her sleeves. “Well. Whatever, I guess. Fuck it. Let’s go kick my ass.”

For once in his life, Omori looks genuinely moved.

###

They stalk Kaiju Aubrey—(Monster-brey? Monbrey? …He’ll keep working on it)—back to King Crawler’s clearing before regrouping at the picnic.

“So I pretty much just hit her on the head until she dies, right?” Aubrey asks cheerfully.

Omori chokes.

“Not exactly,” Sunny snickers. Ideally, she’d stop before Beastbrey died. (Beastbrey, he thinks. That’s not bad.) “Um. Try not to kill her.”

“You sure? ‘Cause that sounds a lot easier.”

“Pretty sure. Yeah.”

“Suit yourself,” she yawns. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to kill monsters, though.”

“She’s not a monster,” Sunny mumbles.

“Pfft. Right. Good one.”

He frowns at her. “You’re not—”

“Aaaand I think that’s enough with the heart-to-heart, thanks! Can we please just fight?”

###

So, they fight.

Headspace-Aubrey made her lair in King Crawler’s old grotto. The grass is littered with sprout mole husks and rabbit’s bones. But the surrounding forest has never looked healthier. The trees here are violently lush, with glossy leaves and thick strong trunks. The grass grows long and perfectly key lime-green.

At the farthest end of the clearing, Beastbrey is splayed languid, gnawing the bones of her last meal.

The bulk of her body is blunt and barrel-shaped, like a boar’s. But those powerful, tightly coiled haunches would look more at home on a jackrabbit, or a frog. Two colossal silver ram’s horns curl from either side of her head, and her thick coat of fur is run through with slender, translucent spines—like a hedgehog’s, if hedgehogs had spines all over their bodies.

To Sunny’s surprise, there aren’t any claws on her front paws. Instead, each leg ends in a blunt, chitinous protrusion of bone, like the head of a mallet. Or like the monster is wearing very uncomfortable white mittens.

While Omori sifts through his inventory, Sunny sidles up to him. “Omori. I really think I should have a knife.”

“Cool. I guess you should go find one.”

But they both know that Omori has artillery to spare. Sunny frowns. “Are you mad at me?”

“Not everything is always about you,” Omori says coldly.

Since Aubrey showed up already armed, she doesn’t need to borrow a weapon. But Omori does thrust a CHARM at her. It’s one that Sunny doesn’t recognize, a pastel-pink headband adorned with a huge silk gladiolus.

“Aw,” Aubrey snickers, amused but clearly also touched. “For luck?”

“Something like that.”

She slides it on, pinning her bangs back from her face. “So? Is it cute?”

“I don’t know,” Omori mutters.

“Sunshine?”

“Totally,” Sunny says promptly. It suits her, actually. It’s flashier than the pins that Basil wears, but then again, so is Aubrey. “Gets a little lost in your hair. Maybe a different color?”

“It’s not for fashion,” Omori hisses. “Never mind. Let’s just get this over with.”

READ THE REST OF CH 3 HERE: archiveofourown.org/works/45213322/chapters/126779419

OR START FROM THE BEGINNING: archiveofourown.org/works/45213322/chapters/113743957

#omori spoilers #omori sunburn #the sunburn is platonic for me but can def be read either way #omori fanfic #headspace au

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jellyfishinajamjar · 2 years

Text

Quick drabble, not beta-read, inspired by your recent Huntlow post

Gus notices it first. Of course, he does. It’s Amity and Luz all over again. Albeit Hunter might be even more dense than either of the two, seeing as his social life has pretty much been kickstarted not all too long ago. As his practically honorary brother, Gus has been trying to help where and when he can: Sitting to either the left or right of the two, but not ever in-between, when Luz sat them down for another movie night; subtly commenting on Hunter’s qualities when talking to Willow (not that he’d have to do the same for Hunter – that boy was head over heels anyways); getting Skara and Viney out of Willow and Hunter’s ears once flyer-derby practice was finished for the day.

Skara and Viney had caught onto Gus’ wingman-ing, same for Luz and later Amity. The latter dryly commenting that Willow was too good for Hunter, but he was probably, unfortunately, her type, going off of secrets exchanged during long sleepovers. To his own detriment, Gus had promised himself, that there was no way he’d let Luz or Skara – who were the most eager – interfere, as proposed ‘ship names’ and illustrated ‘fanfics’ would probably kill Hunter on the spot, or at the very least scare him off for good. Therefore, he had sworn all four girls to secrecy in exchange for him doing some occasional illusion-related favours: Amity had him do the most elaborate and cheesy stuff for a date with Luz – because of course she did –, Viney had Gus calm down Puddles every now and again, but more often than not just conjure something to keep Puddles engaged in his own games during flyer-derby practice, Skara had him conjuring up some smaller pranks in particular on Boscha (this was admittedly fun to Gus as well) and Luz had regularly asked for illusion-stand-ins for lessons at Hexside, not because she didn’t want to attend, but could simply not attend three different classes at the same time.

After an extremely and exhausting flyer-derby session and a romantic forest date for Luz and Amity, Gus was entirely drained, so when Luz asked him to attend the advanced potion theory class, he just gave in and decided to attend the class himself. Oh, what didn’t he do for his older brother?!

Class was slow-going and although Gus had begun checking out some other classes – especially the newly introduced wild magic ones taught by the Owl Lady herself as well as the guy she pickpocketed – potion making was for sure not his cup of tea. Distractedly he began doodling small portraits of Emmeline in his/Luz’ notebook, when he picked up some older witches sitting in front of him talking about Willow of all things.

“The flyer-derby captain? Isn’t she like dating that team-member of hers? That Golden guard kid?”

“Well, last I checked, she didn’t. I asked her during our plant magic class, whether she already had a grom date and she said no.”

“Maybe he’s still going to ask her?”

“Not if I ask her first. She’s really sweet, you know? We did a project together and I can tell you she’s one titan of a witch.”

Oh. That guy. Now Gus knew who that witchling was. Hunter had been going up the wall during the entire time Willow had worked on that project, complaining about still being ways behind on plant magic thus being partnered with Luz, who by spreading herself extremely thin across all subjects, was advancing steadily but slowly (except in abomination magic due to obvious reasons) in most of them. Hunter loved Luz. But she also drove him absolutely crazy if it came to schoolwork, always pushing for the “creative” approach rather than his straight-forward one, thus often costing them double the time – although whenever they were partnered, they typically also received stellar grades.

Over the course of said project Willow had had little time to spare, but lots of stories to tell. None of which appeared to be to Hunter’s liking, when they went out to the eye scream parlour for their post-game dissections with Viney and Skara.

Well. Considering, what Gus had just listened to, it seemed like Hunter would need a bit of an extra-push sooner rather than later. Maybe Gus would have to employ Luz’ help after all.

***

The shrill scream heralding the end of the school day went off just when Hunter was about to nod-off during his oracle class, having barely slept the night before after Skara had overenthusiastically explained grom to him after practice. Gathering his supplies and throwing everything a bit haphazardly into his backpack, he got up just to spot Willow waiting at the classroom door. He could feel the tips of his ears turn warm when she waved at him. At least he could supress a small ear wiggle this time around.

“Shouldn’t you be at the greenhouse?”, he asks for a greeting.

“Oh, don’t worry. I came in early today and already took care.”, she smiles at him. Great. Now his cheeks also feel on fire. He chuckles a bit awkwardly hoping to cover it up a bit. “But I do have some more plans for today and you will help me with it.”

“I will?”, he teasingly raises an eyebrow at Willow, who elbows him in response, now giggling a little as well.

“Well. Once I tell you, I am sure, you’ll agree.”

“I am listening.”

“So, do you remember, how I asked about your clothing size a couple of weeks ago?”

“Yeah sure” He had been wondering about that.

She pulls a wrapped package out of her bag and hands it to Hunter with what he can only describe as the sweetest of smiles: “Would you do me the favour…?”

“Thank you…?”, he carefully takes the gift and turns it over in his hands, trying to piece the information together.

“Go ahead. Open it.”, she says excitedly.

Practically unable to refuse any of her wishes, he slides his finger along the paper, deliberately removing the adhesive tape without ripping everything to shreds. Willow is practically vibrating with impatience. When he’s finally done, Hunter holds a green bundle in his hands.

“Unfold it!”

It’s a green varsity jacket with white sleeves. On the back in white, big, bold lettering, a single ‘H’. He turns the garment over in his hands. Stitched unto the left front are the letters H.D. and a red bird silhouette. Oh. H.D. – Hunter Deamonne. It’s a flyer-derby team jacket. Meticulously, he brushes his fingers along the lettering.

“How do you like it?”

Oh right. Willow is here. Willow, who had just given him his own flyer-derby jacket. Willow, who had most likely spent hours stitching the cardinal onto the jacket. Willow, who now looked at him with sparkling eyes and broad smile.

“It’s amazing”, he breathes.

“Wanna try it on?”, she asks. He nods and she helps him slide the jacket on by taking his backpack from him. The jacket fits perfectly.

Impulsively he picks her up by the waist and spins her around, making her laugh. It’s music to his ears, but also reminds him of the fact, that this is the real Willow in his arms and not some weird dream. Feeling himself flush, he quickly sets her down.

“Sorry. It’s just… neat. It’s very neat. Thank you.”, he coughs. Willow is still giggling.

“Want me to show you the others?”

***

Gus has a whole talk prepared, when he calls Hunter for a quick chat in the evening…but drops it all the second he sees the former Golden Guard snuggled into a green varsity jacket.

Idiots. He thinks.

***

Skara and Viney love the new jackets. Gus absolutely adores the team gear as well, but had, of course, known about this project of Willow’s for ages and had received his jacket several days in advance of anyone else.

“These are really awesome Willow.”

“Absolutely loving it. Wait let me just take a quick pic for my penstagram.”, Skara whips out her scroll and sweaty and dirty as they are, they pose for some team pictures. For some reason – a reason Skara and Viney are unaware yet of, but Gus has already spotted across the field – Hunter’s face drops after the fifth team selfie.

***

Hunter does not like Alex. In fact, he cannot stand them. He has only ever exchanged a few words with them, but the way they look at Willow rubs him in the wrong way.

And now they are here, waiting on the bleachers for their group to disband for the day.

***

Willow spots Alex seconds after Skara and Viney leave and waves at them. Her former project partner waves back at her from the bleachers, confirming that they were waiting on her.

Turning to Gus and Hunter she excuses herself: “Alex’s here, I’ll just say hi to them, don’t wait up on me.”

Leaving her sports bag with Hunter and Gus, Willow jogs over to the bleachers.

She doesn’t turn around to see Hunter turn into a figurative tomato, nor Gus’ absolutely exasperated look.

Climbing down the bleachers, Alex enthusiastically greets her, when she comes to a halt.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“So, what’re you doing here? Didn’t expect you to be around Hexside so late.”

“I was just waiting for your practice to finish.”

“And what did you think?”

“Looking very good. Especially the plant spin combo, you tried today.”

“But it didn’t work.” She wrings her hands in embarrassment.

“I’m sure, you’ll make it work by the time the next game rolls around.” They smile genuinely.

“Thanks.” Willow puffs up at the comment. Looking up at Alex she rephrases her initial question. “What can I help you with at this time of day?”

Alex blushes a little. “Well. You see. It’s almost that time of the school year again… and I know there hasn’t been any announcement yet… but I was hoping…”

Willow is trying to untangle the words, but before they can even finish, Hunter materializes mere centimetres away from her accompanied by the signature golden teleportation glow.

“You forgot your sports bag, Captain.”

Alex stiffens and whatever they had wanted to say, dies on their tongue.

“Thanks, Hunter.” Willow smiles sweetly at Hunter before turning back to them, a now more apologetic smile plastered across her face. “Sorry, continue please.”

“I…Well…you see…”, they stutter, eyes darting between the sweet smiling Willow and the death-glare sent to them by her teammate, “Grom will be taking place soon… and I was wondering… There’s someone, I’ve been meaning to ask out… and well…”

Willow looks at them expectantly. It suddenly clicks for Hunter. He needs to do something. Now.

“Of course, we’ll help you ask out that crush of yours.”

That was cold, he hears Luz’ voice in his head.

Alex face contorts into a forced grimace. Hunter smiles devilishly.

Willow is utterly oblivious. Being crushed on, is definitely not something she is used to.

Alex opens and closes his mouth several times but before they can say anything a fresh breeze has Willow shivering in her short flyer-derby uniform, with the sweat still clinging to her skin adding onto the sudden cold. Without a second thought Hunter puts his own team jacket across her shoulders. Alex looks as if ready to explode.

“Thanks…”, they manage, “Talk to you later, Willow?”

Excusing themselves, Alex winks at her, but takes off before she has any chance to answer.

She turns to Hunter, huffing: “That was really uncalled for. You practically scared them off.”

Hunter must supress a snarky comment about that being the plan. He also is reminded of the fact, that all his smugness goes out the window the second he’s alone with Willow.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t mean it though. Not really.

With a sigh Willow grabs her sports bag from him. “It’s fine. I’ll just call them later.”

Willow is about to slip her arms into the jersey jacket, when she notices, that it isn’t hers, but Hunter’s.

“Oh.”, she utters unintelligible. Following her gaze Hunter blushes a little.

“Sorry, I must have grabbed the wrong one.”, he quickly intervenes. – It hadn’t been the wrong jacket, his brain adds unnecessarily.

Handing over the jacket and throwing on her own, Willow shakes off the small blush.

“Well. It’s time for me to go home anyways. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”, he tries his best not to sound disappointed.

***

Having watched the scene from across the field, Gus facepalms himself.

#submission #I have no idea who summited this but I love it! I also don't know which post your referring to but I'm glad it inspired you!#TOH huntlow #toh winter #toh hunter #toh willow

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blorboclaw · 2 years

Note

what do you think would‘ve happened if Bluestar had developed feelings for Thrushpelt upon seeing how good he was with her kits?

Alas, it changes nothing to the Thistleclaw situation. She has to give up the kits.

However we might think she would trust him enough to put him in on the plan and she gets him to help her carry them. Mosskit is saved.

For narrative parallels purposes, the Erins give Silverstream three kits who will be apprenticed to Mistyfoot (Featherpaw), Stonefur (Stormpaw) and Mosslight (Willowpaw).

Feathertail and Stormfur are not each other's whole kin since they've got another sibling (let's say Willow is female and warrior name is Willowbark). Stormfur doesn't go with Feathertail in Midnight. There's no Chosen One to get back to Riverclan after Feathertail's death. Willowbark and Stormfur are now each other's whole kin, which means Stormfur will not stay with the tribe.

Mosslight's survival also means Hawkfrost is not the first in line to be temporary deputy. She becomes temporary deputy and leads search patrols. When Mistyfoot is freed, she resigns from deputyship and lets Mistyfoot get her role back.

Everything else happens, except Stormfur is not kicked out of Riverclan. Mosslight becomes Mistystar’s deputy, but is killed in the Great Battle. Mistystar then choses Reedwhisker and the rest is history.

Now what would be interesting is if, after she became a leader, Bluestar had a second litter, this time with Thrushpelt. I don’t think she would, because of the guilt of having abandonned the first. But let’s say she does. Three kits. Named Moonkit, Rainkit and Eaglekit because of family links and whatnot. They’ll be refered to as Moonfur, Rainfall and Eaglefeather later on.

Three more warriors in Into the Wild. Maybe more if they have kits. No need for Rusty. Bluestar decides she won’t take the risk to take in one more mouth to feed, particularly a kittypet kitten, and will seek Fire somewhere else.

Then we have two possibilities stemming from here.

- Rainfall discovers Tigerclaw’s treachery and basically takes Fireheart’s role in the plot with a few deviations. They also discover that they have half-siblings in Riverclan.

- No one is the wiser and Tigerclaw takes controle of Thunderclan.

The first one is basically an AU where Fireheart is Bluestar’s son so I won’t take it. The second I don’t like either because it feels like just too much to explain in all the possible ways.

So let’s think up a third.

Moonfur and Redtail get together. Moonfur becomes Sandstorm’s mother.

Seeing a red kit be born from her blood (particularly with the fact it makes no sense dna-wise but... erins amirite), Bluestar suggests that they call her firekit and is now convinced Sandstorm (or, rather, Firestorm) is the One.

And so she treats Firestorm like she treated Fireheart.

Dustpelt and Firestorm are made warriors early. They are given apprentices early. Ravenpaw is slaughtered by Tigerclaw and Graypaw, sloppy as he is, becomes a warrior at the same time as Swiftpaw, around Forest of Secrets (the only reason Swiftpaw didn’t get his warrior name before Brackenfur, who was younger than him, was because he wasn’t there during I don’t know what battle, but his absence was due to FIreheart’s decisions, which Firestorm doesn’t take the same way). Swiftpaw becomes Swiftheart.

No Gray x Silver because of the timing of their first meeting. Let’s say Cinderpaw still gets hurt. But no Cloudkit/paw/tail.

Firestorm is none the wiser until she goes to check on her grandmother during the rogues attack and prevents Tigerclaw from killing her. Bluestar exiles him and starts spiraling down. She names Firestorm her new deputy. Gives her Fernpaw as her apprentice (and, on Firestorm’s suggestion, Ashpaw to Dustpelt).

As for the new couples here’s a brief summary:

Swiftheart x Brightheart (will have Whitewing)

Thornclaw x Ferncloud (will have all of DustFern’s canon kids)

Firestorm x Dustpelt (will have the FireSand canon kids)

(yes I tend to consider that the mother gets the kids when I change the pairings)

Anyway.

It goes basically like in canon. Sandstorm was not any less smart than Fireheart, and was actually more socially/emotionally intelligent, so there’s no reason she doesn’t figure out the whole dog pack and windclan thing etc. Actually that emotional/social intelligence gives her the advantage here: when she stands in for Bluestar after the fire, and Tigerclaw arrives all “i’m head of shadowclan now”-y, she actually tells everyone that the storm is here to support here not to silent her, since she’s is named -storm. She tells everyone what’s going on. Shadowclan probably still supports Tigerstar because... Starclan approved of him, and they’re still too weak to be left alone without leadership.

But his close guard, Blackfoot and others, don’t trust him as much as they did before. Actually it could be the start of self reflection for Blackfoot. Realizing he betrayed his clan without realizing it by bringing Tigerclaw in. Realizing some things are true while not being perceptible by him and so on. Boulder might think it best not to mention Blood Clan. Also... maybe Leopardfur/star is not going to trust him so easily, now.

Bluestar dies.

Firestorm becomes leader under the name Firestar.

She choses her mate Dustpelt as her deputy. He doesn’t die and neither do Whitestorm (who only died so that Graystripe could become deputy).

They get SquirrelLeaf. Skyclan is never revived since Firestorm would listen to Starclan and not go. I know Sandstorm did go but she was going with her mate and leader, she didn’t have to take, herself, the decision to tell Starclan to go eff themselves and to leave her clan for who knows how long.

She does the same deeds as Fireheart did basically. No Darktail because no Skyclan means no Alderheart going and all.

That alas means Alderpaw keeps being fascinated by Needlepaw and even when a full medicine cat, they keep meeting. Needletail ends up giving birth to Alderheart’s kits and refuses to give the name of the father, which is not as accepted as it was for, say, Silverstream or Bluestar, because Needletail is known to be lackadaisical with the warrior code’s application. Everybody suspects a father from out of the clan, but no one has any proof.

Alderheart’s kids end up being called Violetkit and Twigkit and might become the heroines of their own prophecy or something, with the same complicated relationship to kin they have in canon. But here they’re together and have less damage as they had when both split and one of them in the Kin and the other changing clans all the time.

TL;DR: If Bluestar had developped feelings for Thrushpelt along the way, Sandstorm would have been the Fire to Save the Clan, and Needletail would have been Twig and Violet’s mother.

#blorboclaw's aus #wc au #thrushpelt #bluestar

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thenightgardener-missbriar · 11 months

Text

The Night Gardener

It is commonly known that the greenhouse is one of the homes of the courts. That is the greenhouse that people know about.

As the sun begins to slide low behind the horizon, a faint outline of a smaller greenhouse can be seen at the very edge of the forest. This is the home of the Night Gardener.

She goes by many names to those that know of her. The Willow Maiden. The Masked Florist.

As the moon rises, the outline sharpens. Clear panes of glass set within a wooden frame form a small yet elegant greenhouse. Small pinpricks of golden light float about it. No one knows their source.

If you have seen it, you are lucky. She has chosen to reveal herself.

She is quite shy. The Night Gardener shows herself to few, and interacts with less. The quiet ones she likes. Botany, ecology, and art majors especially.

The Night Gardener comes to you. Walking towards the greenhouse is impossible. It is always slightly out of reach. Should she wish to speak to you, a small stone path will appear, visible to none but the chosen.

Respecting and showing respect to the Night Gardener is respecting nature. Too many have attempted to be courteous to her through words, rather than action. She likes compliments, yes, but picking up a piece of litter is worth more than ten to her.

Walking down the path is the only access point to her garden. Outside the simple door, she will stand. A wooden mask adorns her face. It was a gift, long ago, from one of her apprentices. Intricately carved, it completely obscures her face. Two sets of antlers protrude from her head, and large ears similar to that of deer replace human ears. Her hair is flowing vines reaching to the floor. A snowy white cloak pinned at one shoulder covers her entire body.

This is the moment at which the Night Gardener judges you. Silently, she looks you over. Words should not be exchanged in his time, for it is a period of study for the Night Gardener.

Should she reject you, you will wake in bed with no memory of the prior interaction, save for the sight of the greenhouse. Acceptance does not come easy.

Should you win her approval, she will lead you into the greenhouse. While following is a choice, this opportunity would forever disappear should you leave. The Night Gardener would never again show herself to you should you deny her teaching.

Inside, the greenhouse is bursting with life. While it appears small, the space inside is vast.

Trees create an emerald canopy, moss hanging gracefully from many of their boughs. Vines creep up the sides, many blooming with flowers of impossible, unnamable colors. More flowers bloom throughout the space, lining the worn stone pathways. In the center of the garden, there is a pond. Lily pads float in it, as well as other aquatic flora. The water is still and smooth.

Glowing lantern-like plants hand from the trees, illuminating the entire greenhouse. The air is warm and humid. The air smells of all things green, of pine, petrichor, moss, water, and a subtly pleasant floral aroma.

As you follow the Night Gardener, the faint sound of clacking on the rocks makes you wonder if the Night Gardener is hooved. She is, though near none have ever seen them.

Towards the back of the greenhouse is a raised stone platform, with a small oak desk in the center. Shelves crammed with books (mostly about botany, though there are several books of poetry and art tucked between them) float around the desk. There are several worn books open on the table, as well as a journal with foreign characters written within. The Night Gardener sits down on a comfortable looking worn wooden chair.

“Sit.” The Night Gardener speaks. Her voice is soft and gentle. Somehow, it sounds like wind in the trees and leaves falling.

There is one chair.

Slowly, green shoots appear from cracks in the stone platform. They rise and weave together, forming a chair.

“I wish to take you as my apprentice. You interest me, human. Should you accept, meet me here at midnight tomorrow. Should you not show up tomorrow, I will wipe all your memories of me.” The Night Gardener stated simply.

Your vision turned dark at the edges.

The last words you heard were, “Meet me at midnight.”

You woke in your bed, wearing yesterday’s clothes. You wondered if last night had been a dream, but then you felt something in your pocket. You put your hand into your pocket and pulled out a small piece of yellowed paper.

It said:

“Meet me at midnight.

-M.B.”

Attached to it was a small replica of the Night Gardener’s mask on a loop of vine.

A/n: all credit for Elsewhere University goes to @elsewhereuniversity.

Art:

#elsewhere university

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outofangband · 2 years

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The Empty Lands of Dimbar: Environmental and Geographical Information and Thoughts

(Prelude to a longer environment and biodiversity post)

(I also couldn’t help but to include some horror thoughts towards the end. I love all kinds of Angband horror of course but there’s so much potential elsewhere too)

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda

Dimbar, Sindarin “sad home”, was described simply as an empty, desolate and cold* land South of the Crissaegrim with the river Sirion on the West and its tributary Mindeb on the East. In the Southern reaches of Dimbar, the forest of Brethil looms on the West with Neldoreth on the right.

Dimbar comes into the story of Húrin twice and it is here that we get much of the limited information we have on it. The first is when he is only a child and becomes lost with his younger son, Huor after accompanying a group of men from Brethil on a fighting and scouting trip (This was when the boys were living with their paternal aunt, Glóredhel and her husband, Haldir.) The group was attacked and scattered and Húrin and Huor were separated from them. The power of Ulmo, being strong in the waters of the Sirion, veiled the boys in a mist that let them escape the orcs however they fled East and became lost in the wilderness of Dimbar until thy were found by the Eagles.

The Atlas of Middle Earth and the maps by Tolkien and Christopher do not show any particular terrain or landscape for Dimbar though the description of the wilderness certainly evokes an image for the land. Possible inspiration for the ecoregion are the Eastern European Forest steppes or the montane Birch forests and grasslands, especially given the nearby birch forests.

Later, Húrin travels through Dimbar after his release from Angband and the land is described as cold and desolate.

Desolate is also used to describe the Nan Tathren or Valley of Willows however they seem to evoke very different environments. Nan Tathren is imbued with the power of Ulmo which runs strong in the river Sirion. It is described as beautiful and peaceful. In earlier versions of the legendarium, the Valley of Willows was where the first butterflies were created and I speculate this remains a folktale or legend among the elves and Edain of Beleriand.

While Dimbar is bordered by the river Sirion and thus the power of Ulmo is not bereft from the region, there is none of the whimsy of the Nan Tathren in any of the descriptions

I do wonder however if the second description of Dimbar as cold and empty is at all influenced by Húrin’s own state of mind. He feels cold, numb and empty after Morwen’s death (The Wanderings of Húrin, HoME 11) and his view of the world appears distorted. There is a desolate feeling to his words and thoughts throughout that part of his life and although it does seem Dimbar was uninhabited, I think it’s also possible that he is walking through the lands likely remembered only in distant nightmares and everything is cold and empty and gone.

As Tuor and Voronwë shelter in a cave upon one of the hills, we can assume there are caves somewhere in the region. I am now attached @quixoticanarchy’s headcanons that much of Beleriand is karst terrain, that is, a topography formed when soluble rocks such as limestone dissolve creating extensive underground drainage systems, sinkholes and caves. I headcanon this especially for Western Beleriand (the extensive cave systems of Nargothrond and Menengroth along with possible underground passages) with some different topographical thoughts on Eastern Beleriand though I think parts of there are karst terrain too.

Although we do not know for a fact whether or not there is marshland covering significant parts of Dimbar, I was thinking of the legend of the will o the wisps, ghostly lights that appear in the moorlands and apparently lead travelers astray or into danger. These are of course a folktale however there is some theories that chemical reactions caused in some kinds of marshlands can cause phosphorescence or other illusions of glowing light. I think there is the possibility of such a phenomenon in Dimbar, this perhaps exacerbating the tendency for the lands to be avoided.

I also wonder if the refugees of Ladros might have traveled through or by Dimbar before or after their stay in Brethil.

#The Silmarillion #the children of húrin #musing and meta #Beleriand

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saratogaroadwrites · 5 months

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world keeps spinnin’ (3/3)

world keeps spinnin’ | saratogaroad rating: G total wordcount: 4540 characters: Ori, Ku, Naru, Gumo relationships: Ori & Ku other tags: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Fix It, fuck canon I choose to be happy, warnings: none

A series of narrow escapes from and through the Forest of Niwen, and two lives irrevocably altered by the swiftly changing course of fate.

Shriek screamed in the night, her battered wings carrying her away from the Spirit Willow. Sent flying in her wake, Ori hit the ground hard, bouncing to a stop among the rocky remains of the Weeping Ridge. He lay there breathless, stunned. Thunder cracked overhead, or maybe it was the crack of wood strained beyond the breaking point.

"Ori," Seir's voice was weak, her glow faded from Shriek's attack, "Ori, you must get up. Please, get up."

With a groan, Ori pushed himself to look up at her. The Spirit Willow was still hanging onto the cliff face beyond them, but for how much longer? The Decay was just as sturdy. It would eat through the last of the roots soon, and when that happened...he tried to get his hooves beneath him, but his body wouldn't respond. His ears folded back.

"I can't," He said, "Seir, I...I can't..."

"I know," She replied, "My Light alone is not enough, and the Willow is beyond us now. But there is another way. Do you remember the murals in the Windtorn Ruins?" When Ori managed a nod she continued, "A Spirit can become a Vessel for the Light, can become a new tree!"

Slowly, Ori lifted his head.

"What are you saying?"

"Together, our Light would be strong enough to create a new tree." Seir replied. She moved towards him and he pushed himself back, falling onto his rear end, "But you cannot bear it as you are. You must grow."

"By becoming a tree?!"

"By becoming what you were meant to be," She said. Her voice grew soft, an attempt at soothing without any real warmth behind it, "This has been the way of things for countless generations. You might have even grown to replace your own Spirit Tree, given time."

But he wasn't replacing his tree with Sein at his side. He was being asked to replace a different tree, with a strange spirit, in a land that wasn't his home. He was being asked to leave behind the life he knew, the family he loved, for a forest that wasn't his. Shaking his head Ori pushed himself back further, further until his back hit rock. He had nowhere else to go.

"I can't," He whimpered, wishing Naru was there, "I don't want to--"

"Ori," Seir interrupted, "If the Willow falls, the forest will die. Everyone will die if the Light does not return. It is the only way." She stopped, her glow flickering, before genuine warmth entered her voice. "I am sorry. It is time, Ori."

"I don't want to," He repeated, tears spilling down his cheeks, turning her golden glow into a blur, "I don't want to leave them, Seir...not like this!"

"You will always have them with you. The Light never forgets."

His ears perked up. "What?"

"The Light will always remember what once was. It will remember how you felt about them, even when the Ori you are now is gone."

"The Light remembers what once was..." Ori repeated. The memories left in the Trees. The hopes and dreams of the Spirits who had come before and gone ahead. Their memory of how Niwen had once been, and how the Willow could be again. He lifted his head, "Seir, what if I give you the Light?"

"What?"

"The Ancestral Light." He pressed a paw to his chest. "What if I gave it back to you?"

"Catch me, catch me!"

"Higher, higher!"

"Up here, up here!"

Ori blinked himself awake, blearily staring at the golden leaves of the Wellspring Glade's highest boughs. The hammock-nest swayed gently in the warm morning breeze, and he yawned so wide tears came to his eyes. Down below, the Moki were all laughing, paws scrabbling against wood as they played catch with leaves. Gumo's rich laugh carried up with their shrieks of joy, his long arms juggling them three or four at a time across the rope bridges and hanging platforms of the settlement below. Something rich and savory was bubbling away further along, Naru's familiar warble melding with Opher's reading of a recipe he had found in the mill. Tail drifting lazily off the edge of the hammock, Ori didn't bother to lift his head.

He wasn't really sure he could have gotten it far, anyway. He felt as weak as a newborn spirit, drained of all but the barest hint of his Light. Even his glow had faded somewhat, flickering in the morning sun. It would return, given time, but for now it was all he could do to just stay awake.

That was fine. There was nothing left that needed doing anyway.

Wings beat overhead. He flicked an ear up towards the sound as Ku flapped her way through the branches. The early morning breeze slipped through her feathers as Ku landed beside him, sending the hammock swinging. She tucked her wings in and nestled down.

"Ori?" She asked, "You awake yet?"

Ori flicked an ear at her. A wing tip nudged against his side, the feathers tickling his regrown fur.

"Come on, sleepy-head." She teased, "Wake up! The sun's been up for hours now!"

"Mrgh," He groaned tiredly. Giving back the Ancestral Light the way he had had nearly taken his own Light with it, leaving him more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling. Everything the Light had given him, all of his powers and abilities, he had given it back without hesitation.

It had been the right decision. Letting those memories return to their ancient home had been enough Light to restore the Willow, and through her the rest of Niwen. The Decay had been forced out, the damage healed, and life was slowly returning. It couldn't restore all the lives lost, but the forest and its inhabitants would recover with time. So would he.

"Orrrrriiiiii..." Ku crooned in one ear, sending it flicking wildly. He cracked an eye open and she leaned back, practically beaming. "Morning!"

"Mmph."

With a giggle, Ku settled in against his side. The forest hadn't been the only thing to heal as the Light returned. Ku's damaged wing had healed as well, and she was making good use out of it. Mostly to tickle him now, a gesture that made him roll over to give her more space.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him.

"Tired." But more awake than before. He grabbed a piece of straw jabbing into his side and tossed it off the hammock. Two Moki shrieked as they caught sight of it, scrambling to catch it. The siblings watched them for a few seconds before Ori stretched from ears to tail. "Could sleep another week."

"You already slept three days!" Ku pointed out, narrowing her eyes, "How can you be so lazy!"

"You save a whole forest and see if you're not tired," He grumbled, waving a paw at her. She snapped her beak in his direction, feathers fluffing up. They quickly went back down as he wrapped his arm around her back. "I'm okay, Ku."

Her anger fading as quickly as it had come, Ku turned to press her forehead to his.

"...You really scared me," She whispered, "When we found you, I thought..."

She didn't need to finish. He tugged her in close, hiding his face in her soft feathers. It had been close, closer than ever before, but what mattered was the now. The safe, warm, happy now.

"I'm okay," He repeated, "It's over now."

The Willow once again watched over Niwen, secure for another long lifetime. Already Light Spirits were beginning to return to the forest, born again in new, unfamiliar places. Those that had survived the initial Decay would stay here in the Glades for a while, but they too had new, unfamiliar homes to make. Niwen would be fine.

"Is it?" Ku asked, "What about Shriek? What do you think happened to her?"

"I don't know," Ori replied. There had been no sign of Shriek after he had forced her off, forced her away from the Willow. When he'd heard of the battle Tokk had made his way to the Silent Woods to see if she'd returned, but he'd come back saying there was nothing there at all. Nothing, no one. The Silent Woods had finally gone truly silent.

Wherever she was, he hoped that Shriek could finally find some peace.

"I think she's gone now," He said to Ku, flicking his tail. "Niwen's going to be fine when we leave."

"Yeah," She cooed, "You're right. Everything's going to be just fine."

And it would be. Soon, when his strength had returned to him, they would make the return trip to Nibel. For now Ori was content to lay in the hammock with Ku, watching the leaves drift lazily past and listening to the Moki play.

"Ku! Ori!" Naru called up to them, "The soup is ready!"

His stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, and the two siblings shared a laugh. Ori let go to push himself up, while Ku tucked her wings low, gesturing towards her back with her head.

"Come on," She said, "Before Gumo and Opher eat it all."

Ori laughed. Pulling himself onto her back, he took firm handfuls of feathers into his paws. She spread her wings, and with Ori safely holding on, Ku took off into the early morning sky.

#ori wotw #ori and the will of the wisps #ori fic #!fic #fic: world keeps sipinnin

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smuggsy · 2 years

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Two wolves and a bard.

@themountainarchives Day 6!

Prompt: Dressing wounds.

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: T

Warnings: none apply

Additional tags: hurt/comfort, whump, post 01x06: rare species, (as in, immediately after), mother nature 2 - jaskier 0

Can also be read on the archive.

The trail up the mountain is infested with monsters, so Borch said. It is, of course, Jaskier's rotten luck that he should bump into an easy death on his own, on his way down, without Geralt.

He thinks he's doing fine, for the most part. Sure, he's a bit hungry and he still hasn't come across any water sources to refill his waterskin but he's absolutely certain he's managed to survive at least four monster encounters so far, if the violent and animalistic howls he's heard are anything to go by.

And they are violent.

Whichever retched creature they're coming from, Jaskier is sure he'd make a very succulent and easy prey with only his lute to swing at them.

At claws and... teeth. Very sharp teeth.

And by 'survive' of course he means avoid. He's still in possession of all his limbs because he's avoided encountering any of Geralt's little friends. Very implicit in his method is the fact that he wouldn't actually live to tell the tale if he came face to face with one of them.

But yeah, he could've been dead four times already, but he isn't. So take that, Geralt! Who needs witchers when you can just hide behind a wide trunk and pretend to be one with nature, not even breathing because it's probable they can track you down by the sound of your panicked heaving? And by the sound of your heartbeat, too. And by the smell of your fear.

It sounds very unlikely that witchers' mutagens allow them to smell distress, no matter how many times Geralt's told him to calm down in the middle of an impromptu hunt because 'he's making it worse'.

Jaskier always thought he was mocking him — in a very stoic, serious, Geralt-y kind of way.

But now he's not so sure.

Because he could swear the sounds aren't going away, this time, despite him not moving a hair to warrant being heard.

In fact, it sounds as if the creature's getting closer. It's close enough that Jaskier can feel the ground rattle when it moves about, certainly sniffing the air to try and pick up his scent.

And then.

"Awoooooooooooo," it howls.

Ohhh, he's fucked.

It sounds like a very big, ferocious wolf. Jaskier starts to break a sweat. The irony doesn't escape him. Now isn't that fantastic? Isn't it fantastic that he should die eaten by none other than a fucking wolf, an actual animal, a normal creature on a path that's supposed to be brimming with monsters?

A godsdamned wolf.

A godsdamned wolf that's found him.

"Ohhhhh, no, no," Jaskier blurts out high-pitched as the figure of the furry creature rounds the big weeping willow he'd been hiding behind and shows him his teeth, "wolfie, wolfie, don't— I promise I really am not as delectable as I look?"

He doesn't think his voice sounds like his voice.

The animal is massive and dark grey and predatory, it stands there in a stance ready to attack but doesn't attack, almost as if he's rejoicing in the bard's misery. Toying with its food like a bloody cat because when Jaskier slowly moves away to try and — escape? Make a run for it? — well, there's a growl that resounds in the low-light forest like a warning.

He is not going to make a pretty corpse.

Still, he won't have it said that Julian Alfred Pankratz stood frozen facing death without a fight.

So he does make a pathetic run for it.

And next the massive animal is jumping on him and digging its very sharp claws on his back and legs and Jaskier lets out a scream that tears at his vocal cords and hopes for a quick demise.

It's all he can think of, at that moment, when the pain flares up and he finds himself face down on the dirt: he hopes the wolf snaps his neck quick and easy so he won't have to withstand actually being munched by it like human dinner.

And then the pressure at his back disappears, he sees a bundle of dark flying through the air with the corner of his eye and then hears the unmistakable sound of something hitting a tree and a cowering cry of pain instantly after.

Like a puppy that's been kicked.

"Jaskier!"

That blessed voice. That stupid, fucking arrogant and self-centred blessed voice.

"Fuck. Jaskier."

Geralt's back. He's going to live!

"Grrltt," he tries, turns his head and sees the witcher kneeling next to him and then he's being lifted like a little baby, Geralt supporting his weight under his armpits, keeping his back intact because he probably doesn't want to touch the open blood-gushing wounds his canine friend left there.

"Fuck," Geralt growls again, like it's the only kind of response he's capable of.

Jaskier tries to stand up on his own but can't — another painful wail and he realises he's sprained one of his ankles.

"Leave it, just hold on to me," the witcher bites out annoyed, "it's a pack, we have to get out of here."

Jaskier can't catch his breath and only manages an agreeing sound, much to Geralt's chagrin.

"Jaskier, hold on to me," he repeats, and this time Jaskier has to roll his eyes even if it makes him dizzy.

"Imfuckn tryn!" he blurts out almost intelligibly, pretty sure a gigantic fucking wolf pinning him down to the ground has knocked the air out of his lungs.

That and the brief moment of clarity just now when he thought his life was ending.

Tends to make one a little speechless.

Geralt makes another grunt that, frankly, ticks Jaskier right off this time. He almost retrieves his hands from the dark leather armour and lets himself trip backwards, he'll take the pain of the fall if it'll mean not having to cope with Geralt's offended tone right now, as if he's got any godsdamned right to be offended!

At some point or another he must pass out, however briefly. Because he remembers seeing Geralt's murderous glare just a moment ago, but then he opens his eyes and he's seeing Geralt's left boot on the ground every two seconds and his white hair is in Jaskier's nose and Jaskier is... on his back?

"Hmm. You're gonna want to be out when I clean up those wounds."

And Jaskier thinks that's a wonderful idea, so he buries his nose back in Geralt's neck and lets his long hair brush softly against his skin and offers a groggy hum in response.

Unfortunately, he is not unconscious when Geralt dresses up his wounds. He was, before his back decided to burst into flames and yank him from the hazy feverish state he'd fallen into. He startles and hisses awake and Geralt immediately holds him down.

"Shhh, Jas, don't."

"Don't shush me!" he shouts back. He's lying on his stomach on a much nicer bedroll than the one he's used to and can only shove weakly at Geralt's hand holding that wet cloth.

"I have to disinfect them."

"Ughhhh."

He realises when he turns his head to the other side that Geralt's laid him down near the fire, that Roach is tied up to a trunk and merrily enjoying some wheatgrass a few feet over, that he's shirtless and that there's already a very firm bandage around his left thigh; almost tight enough to stop his blood flow.

Geralt lets out a very audible sigh but doesn't touch his back again.

"Jaskier... I'm sorry. This wouldn't—" but he doesn't say it. Of course he doesn't say it.

Geralt's quite allergic to speaking his feelings aloud.

Jaskier doesn't turn to look back at him.

"Damn right it's your fault," he retorts unhappily.

He's not letting him off the hook so easily this time. Because he can feel his skin throb rhythmically with his heartbeat and the pain is already so unbearable he has half a mind to ask Geralt to knock him out so he won't have to suffer through the excruciating torture of having alcohol poured all over it.

"It isn't my fault you're so far gone for that crazy witch."

He hears a dripping sound that means Geralt's unmistakably pouring liquid over something and goes tense, bracing for the pain and thinking perhaps this is not the best time to antagonize his caretaker.

His mouth doesn't catch up to that idea, though.

"Or that you've got the emotional stability of a fucking rock."

When Geralt swipes away at the blood pooling around his lower back, his touch is nothing but gentle. Jaskier still jerks on his spot so violently that another hand comes to immobilize him, pinning him down firmly over his shoulder blades.

"Fuck, Geralt—"

"Just a bit more."

"No. Ffffu—," he finally turns his head back to the other side and looks up at Geralt with teary eyes, "—how much more?"

And he thinks I don't care, just leave it, leave me here like you intended, because it feels like he got lashed with a leather whip a hundred times, like someone melted candlewax and poured it all over his tender skin.

At least Geralt has the decency to look apologetic.

"Just a bit," he repeats, eyebrows furrowed together and that hand previously pinning Jaskier down comes to brush his hair off his eyes in the softest way possible.

Jaskier closes his eyes because he doesn't want to look at that expression. Whatever it means, he doesn't want to unpack that now. Because there's probably nothing to unpack. Because Geralt left it pretty clear he'd rather be relieved of his company and just because he's feeling guilty it doesn't change anything.

He hasn't taken those words back.

So Jaskier keeps his eyes shut closed and bites his tongue hard to try and derail attention from the pain on his back by tasting blood over his lips.

When Geralt helps him sit up, he's panting.

"Open."

He knows he won't get a wink of sleep and again, he doubts Geralt would agree to knock him out for a few hours but thinks that it's worth a shot asking for it.

"Open your mouth," Geralt repeats, and Jaskier blinks into focus and tries to think of a witty joke but fails, only sees two fingers coming closer to his face and then feels them brushing over his lips.

Applying some sort of... potion.

"What's..." he croaks, confused, when he sees Geralt placing something shiny and small back on the ground next to him. A vial.

It's barely even swallowable, in that it's very little, but it's immensely strong. Sour.

"White gull," Geralt finally explains, "will numb the pain."

And something else, Jaskier adds in his head, vaguely remembering something about White Gull being unsuitable for human consumption, suddenly feeling himself falling into Geralt's arms like a puppet, barely noticing how the warm colours of the fire behind turn cold, purple and blue mixing with the green of the trees that are suddenly bending down in odd shapes.

He also barely registers Geralt applying that roll of bandages around his waist and chest for the next couple of minutes. But that's because he has his nose buried back in the witcher's hair again.

"Gerlt... hair is glowing..."

"Hmm."

And when Geralt hums this time Jaskier feels it in his chest as well. A low comforting rumble before he's pretty sure he hears that horrific howling again — when he looks up there's that wolf but it's white this time and it doesn't bare its teeth. Roach doesn't even flinch.

"Is it working?"

Jaskier doesn't answer, simply because he doesn't hear him. In any case, the way he slumps against Geralt's form and starts purring like a content cat is enough indication the pain is dulled.

And if Geralt lets him stay like that for a little while, well.

It's not like Jaskier will remember it.

#um. that title came out a bit too smutty.#i wrote this this afternoon but wasn't able to edit it or re-read it #so i'm posting it on the 7th at 1:49am even though it's for yesterday's prompt #this is turning into a ''whump the bard'' personal event for me askfkjalfk #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #jaskier/geralt #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #the mountain archives #my writing

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gyuluster · 3 years

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the prince and the jackal | {f}

collab oneshot | fantasy! au | 11.8k words

“Because the prince of the earth can make you fall not only for nature, but the boy who rules over it.”

s u m m a r y : in the Kingdom of Terrae, you, a metalbender, believe in the deforestation to modernise the land. As a member of the Lumberjackals, you thrive on cutting down trees and stealing resources until you get caught by the Crown Prince, Choi Beomgyu, a lover and embodiment of the nature you wish to destroy. However, instead of imprisoning you for your crimes, Beomgyu decides to show you the beauty and wonders of nature, leaving you to doubt your beliefs, your identity, and your very feelings for the certain boy determined to change you for the better.

w a r n i n g s : prince! beomgyu, woodcutter! metalbender! reader, reader hates wildlife and all things nature, beomgyu is sunshine and flowers and everything good, shit ton of wildlife and fantasy stuff, bts kim line are part of the lumberjackals so are evil in this story i am so sorry y’all, beomgyu has a pet squirrel called jisung yes han jisung, kind of enemies to lovers not really but im pretending it is

p l a y l i s t : fairy of shampoo by txt | colours of the wind by judy kuhn | willow by taylor swift

a u t h o r ‘ s n o t e : yes i am back from the dead to bring this fic hello!! this is a collab with @soobmint @juunnies @bffsoobin @honeyju pls do read their parts too they’re so sexc <3 do lemme know what you all think and thank you for reading!!

back to collab masterlist

back to my masterlist

“And this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.” — William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey, 1798.

“ONE MORE BLOODY TREE, AND I’LL SCREAM THIS FOREST DOWN!”

You ignored the complaints of your comrades, trekking deeper into the forest.

The sun was nearly drowned out by the towering shade of the surrounding trees, and there remained a constant buzz of the animals, either scurrying away or chirping in the skies. The cut up logs strapped on your back was a huge burden, and slowed your steps as you trudged onto the muddied pathways, staining your boots.

“_____, how much longer until we go to the markets?” one of the men asked, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Just a few more logs, Tae,” one of the woodcutters, Seokjin, answered, casting a side-ways glance at you.

“But we’ve already got so many!” the former whined, pointing to the goods over their shoulders. “We can make decent money today!”

Unsheathing your sword, you cut away at the vines in your path, masking your sight ahead. It must be here somewhere, you thought, eyes darting sharply to every flower and bush. It has to be.

“Haven’t you fools understood already?” a snarl resonated from the group. Your horse trotted past you as Namjoon, sat on top, brought out his machete, brutally slicing the branches of the towering trees. “The wood we’ve got won’t last us all year!”

His eyes blazed with a certain greed as he looked over you all. “We must find the Tree of Life,” he declared, strolling past you, cutting down the path. “One strip of its bark could bring us a fortune.”

You listened to his statements with raised brows, following in his steps. In truth, none of you had ever seen the Tree of Life. No one in the kingdom had for centuries — it had become something of a myth, a legend passed down from every earthbender to child of its origins, and its significance. You didn’t know the great specifics, but the whole group knew that if they were to obtain even a twig from the great tree, it could grant them millions worth of gold.

And that was something the Lumberjackals desired more than the wellbeing of an omnipotent tree.

Soon, the search progressed, your group cutting down a few Ebonies for its useful properties, but there was no heavenly legend welcoming you in all its finery. The sun was descending on the horizon, and although Spring was present, you were situated in the part of the forest where the gusts of the Ice Kingdom blew consistently in your direction. The cold was about to descend, and you were far from your home in the Metallum villages.

Taehyung, the youngest of the Kim brothers, held onto a nearby oak, all strength leaving him. “I don’t know about you, but I am not travelling any further.” He glared daggers at Namjoon, who showed no signs of stopping. “I’m setting camp here, and you can do nothing to stop me.”

Seokjin joined his youngest sibling, collapsing on the patch of grass beside the gathering of flowers as he shrugged off his work of the logs. “I vote a little rest, even if Joon does not understand its meaning.”

The said-man let out a scoff at those words. “You both are just bloody lazy!” He turned to you, eyes pinning you where you stood. “You’ll keep searching with me, right?”

You agreed, but when you saw the fatigue in your leader’s gaze you grabbed the reins from his horse, stepping beside him. “You need sleep, Joon,” you said, concern in your eyes. “I’ll do another search. You three stay here.”

Namjoon held your stare for a moment before swiping his leg over the back of the horse, jumping off. He handed you the reins fully. “Come back after dawn. Us three will take over from you.”

You had a right mind to challenge the amount of time he was making you explore, but you kept your mouth shut, heaving onto the animal. Dumping your logs of wood upon the ground, you dipped your head in farewell to the Kim brothers. “I will see you in the morning, boys.”

Taehyung waving excitedly as he set up camp, Seokjin going straight to bed upon his blankets, and Namjoon’s stare cold yet understanding, you cracked the reins as the horse began to gallop away from the oaklands, and deeper into the forest.

The moon barely lit the way as you delved deeper into the trees, the sounds of nature turning sinister as the owls began to hauntingly hoot, and the wildcats began to purr. You kept your sword close, in your hand as the other steadied your horse.

You let out a hard sigh as you commenced your searching. Sometimes, only when you were alone, you wished that Namjoon would snap out of his delusions. There was no Tree of Life, no invaluable source of fortune which would challenge the earthbenders and start their industrialisation. In truth, you only wished for a life more than just cutting down wood, but your leader’s promises could be much too enticing.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe with the metalisation of Regna Terrae the metalbenders would be able to progress. It was not like the Kingdom cared for the likes of you, nor the nature which brought you to existence.

Stupid, damned forest. What good had it ever done you?

Suddenly, you heard the harsh snapping of the twigs which wasn’t from your horse. In an instant you halted, pulling the reins as your eyes darted to every corner of the dark forest.

Silence.

You furrowed your brows.

The forest cannot be trusted. Even its silences were sinister and misleading.

Slowly, you got off your horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree. “Keep still, Aurum,” you whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Patting the mane, you turned and followed in the direction of where the sound was heard, every step quiet and cautious. There was little light, you having to rely on your ears alone, and the hands which touched trunk from trunk. In moments like these, you wished you possessed a more useful power than mere metal manipulation — firebending would have been nice, but you supposed that luck had never been in your favour.

Seething, you held onto your sword tighter, sending a little rush of power from your fingers as it sharpened the steel. No one tailing you would survive in your hands.

You then heard a little sigh, and whipped your head to the direction. Gritting your teeth, you rushed to the place of the origins, anger rising. Swiping away the branches in your path, your boots were the only sound among the quiet hush of the forest, along with the slicing of your weapon. Whoever was toying with you will not leave your wrath.

Swiping away the plants, you finally found an opening of grass among the trees. Squinting, your anger surged to find a distant figure standing before you, all masked in shadows from the lack of light within your surroundings. It stood statue-still, matching your deathly quietness.

But the figure did not seem like it offered death. Nor anything so dangerous as you promised.

“Come out!” you shouted, taking a step forward. “I know you were following me!”

No response.

“Scared, are you?!” Another hesitant step. “As you should be!”

Still, only silence answered, and the soft crunch of the leaves underneath your boots. You took a deep breath, shining your sword from the moonlight. A scoff emitted from you, nerves disappearing. This should be easy.

With an aggravated roar, swinging your weapon, you thundered towards the figure.

You rushed into the moonlight pooling onto the grass, eyes intent with damage as you willed iron-like power from your veins, and into your hands, swirling around the fuller of your sword until it reached its tip, ready to burst onto the figure.

It was then the shadows moved.

A flick of his hand. A soft glow within the darkness.

And all of nature followed suit.

You were taken aback as the thousands of vines circulating the surrounding trees unwrapped themselves from their trunks, and snapped towards you in thundering speed. You had no time to take in their stems swirling around your feet, cutting off your run towards this certain figure. A gasp escaping, you were pulled back by the impact, and let out a further scream as you began to fall flat on your face. Then, even more shock reverberated through you as your feet were pulled upwards, shooting your body up until you were suspended from a tree branch, your one foot wrapped tightly in the vines.

Your world all upside down, you shook your head vigorously, feeling the strain of your one leg under complete control of the tree. The thrum of powerful magic of nature resonated through your body, ceasing you from moving your free leg and kicking any potential passerbys.

Craning your head backwards, you saw with horror that your sword was clattered upon the ground, too far away to reach from the air. Straining your hand towards the grass, you willed your magnetic force, trying to lure your weapon into your hand.

The sword would have ended up in your grasp if another surge of the same natural magic did not break its path, sending it back on the earth.

Enraged, you looked out to the dark, sight distorted. “Gods, just come out already!” you screamed, swinging slightly by your sheer force. “Stop hiding in the damned shadows!”

There was a flutter of little animals coming out from the shadows. “Ha!” you spat, reaching for the dark. “Only sending a few creatures to scare me? You’re going to have to work harder than that!”

When there was another round of silence, you laughed harshly to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

This time, however, you were not greeted by their usual, quiet answer.

More vines slithered down your frame, pushing your hands together. You gritted your teeth as the gnarly weeds tightened around your wrists, stopping yourself from using your hands.

Glaring daggers at the darkness ahead, you spat at the ground. “Show yourself!” you roared.

Your threats were answered.

Responded in an unimaginable way as the figure stepped into the moonlight.

You could not suppress your reaction.

The most enchanting boy you had ever seen revealed himself from the shadows. You could clearly see him from the light, the soft, child-like features amplified by his undoubted beauty — his mahogany locks curled around his face, cascading over his forehead. His gentle eyes promised great amusement, more so when they landed upon you, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. He was adorned in a fine green gown, few assortments strapped on his belt as leather boots, etched in ink, covered his feet. A crown of flowers and leaves settled in his curls, emitting its own, fantastical glow among the darkness.

The smile curved wider at your widened eyes. “Why so speechless now, my lady?”

By all the gods. Even his voice sounded like the sweetest honey in all the hives.

“I have come before you, now,” he continued, deeply amused by your bewilderment. “I have stopped hiding in those damned shadows, as you said.

“Where is your anger?”

Well, that seemed to bring your rage all back.

“It’s still here, you bastard!” you hissed, struggling in the rope-like vines as you tried to swipe your hand across his face. He merely took a step back, completely out of your range.

“Even without a weapon you are a force to be reckoned with,” the mysterious boy voiced out, raising his fingers as magic sparked from the tips. Instantly the vines encircled your arms, pinning them to your sides as the weeds wrapped around you completely. You were like a human-sized caterpillar, cocooned in vines except you would not turn into a butterfly and rush away into the forest.

This nuisance before you would make sure of that.

A satisfied hum escaped him. “There we go,” he said. “Now you won’t be of any danger.”

“Who even are you?” you demanded, glaring daggers at the sight before you. Terrible shame that the sight was something you wouldn’t mind witnessing for the rest of your life. Even if it was upside down.

A hint of surprise exposed upon his features. “Oh, this is amusing, indeed.”

He took a step towards you, you catching the faint scent of...flowers and trees and fruit and honey. You couldn’t really figure out a perfect essence — if nature had a scent, then this boy embodied it. “I am surprised you know not of me when you wish to destroy what I own.”

You raised a brow, at eye level with him, despite the loopy image.

Then, the gears in your head turned, and you were struck hard with the realisation.

When you wish to destroy what I own.

“Oh gods,” you slipped out.

The boy smiled.

No, not just the boy.

The Prince of Regna Terrae — the heir to the Earth Kingdom.

Choi Beomgyu.

Maybe this explained his otherworldly beauty. Crown princes of the earth kingdoms were known to be blessed by nature, so adorned the finest features known to man. Standing before you now, you cursed yourself for not seeing it before.

And cursed yourself again for cursing at him. Multiple times.

Beomgyu saw your eyes moving a mile a second and spluttered out a soft laugh, raising a finger so you focused on him. “I am glad you have figured out my identity. Now we both know what we are.”

His next words did not possess much hilarity. “I, a prince, and you, a Lumberjackal.”

The declaration had you gulping. There’s no escaping this.

He was not wrong in the slightest — you were a part of the Lumberjackals — a group dedicated to industrialising the Earth Kingdom, and giving it a head start from the other kingdoms who did not possess the natural resources that this land contained. You prided on deforestation, the cutting of wood and, even to a certain extent, the consumption of animals. Although you never participated in the last activity out of pure shame, you knew the Kim brothers certainly did, and enjoyed it to great extent.

“Do you deny it?”

You tried to look away, but his gaze was a little too intense. Even if it was reversed. “I do not.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” he got out, and you could hear the pain in his voice. Could you even blame him? You destroyed what he held so dear.

Still. You were a metalbender. The desire for modernisation is in your very blood.

“I do what I must do, your Highness,” you grit out, struggling in your weedy cocoon. “It is the only way we survive.

“And I will not stop.”

The boy’s eyes widened a fraction, in pure disbelief. He could not comprehend this — how could one be so against the idea of nature? How could anyone be so resolute in the decimation of what they survived on?

Prince Beomgyu cocked his head, pursing his lips.

How could one hate a deity he considered so beautiful?

He said so himself.

“How?”

You blinked.

The boy continued. “How can you hate nature?”

His question took you by surprise — you did not really know the answer yourself.

It was not like you despised the earth in all its natural form. Sure, it brought you the air you breathed, the food you ate, and the water you drank. But what else had nature given you?

You soured upon seeing the Prince’s face. You did not possess the powers other Terrae citizens were gifted with. Your branch of magic was hard, unforgiving. Simply a practicality, only useful for finding resources and making weapons.

Where were your subservient vines? Where was your natural greatness?

With this in mind, you mustered up the most brutal expression you could offer to the boy before you.

“Because nature was not kind to the likes of me. So I shall not be kind to it either.”

This time, the Prince’s eyes widened even further, afraid they would pop right out of their sockets.

Once again, his mind was in a twist — how had his dearest accomplice, his most cherished friend, been unforgiving to his subjects? He would never consider himself sheltered, but this was something quite unheard of in his kingdom.

“I know you do not believe me, but this is the only explanation I can offer.” You paused, accepting your fate. “Untie me already so you can send me to prison.”

You felt something swirl beneath the boy’s brown eyes, irises sparkling with wonderment. His voice was soft, if not lost within his own thoughts.

“I believe you, jackal,” he said. With a final step towards you, he left little distance between the two of you, eyes at level with yours as you hung from the tree. “But I cannot be satisfied with it.”

Another blink, taken aback by his declaration. “Well...well, what am I supposed to do about it?”

Shocking you further, he curled a little smile upon his lips. “Well,” he started, and as the smile began to widen further, he knew just what to do.

No, he was certainly not satisfied with her accepted hatred.

“We can start by changing that.”

It was your turn for your pupils to dilate. Gods above. This boy seems one chop away from a stump.

“What do you mean?” you demanded, but the boy was already turning on his heel, looking to the surroundings. He fell to his knees, feeling the ground beneath him with his hands. “Your Highness, what are you doing?!”

He did not deem to answer your question, only counter it with his own. “Do you have a horse nearby?”

You looked at him, surprised he figured it out by merely touching the grass. “Yes, but…”

It seemed that he did not need to hear any more, as he brought a hand out, fingers stretching. A tendril of green power burst from his palm, snaking through the dark air beyond your peripheral vision. The Prince was focused on his conjury, and you wondered what in Terrae he was trying to do.

Then, you heard a distant neighing, and found Aurum following the green trail of his magic, eyes glowing slightly.

You tried to escape the tight cage of the vines. “Gods, what are you doing with my horse?!” you exclaimed. “She hates strangers!”

The magic disappeared, along with the glow in her eyes. You could tell she was confused at her surroundings, about to raise her hind legs at the boy who spelled her. “She’ll kill you!” you warned, bracing yourself to witness the death of a prince.

It was then Beomgyu stepped towards the horse, gaze sparkling with kindness.

His hand touched Aurum’s face.

With no small amount of shock, you watched as the boy whispered to your horse, stroking her muzzle. You had never seen her be so friendly to any human she’s made contact with — by Terrae, she even deigned to show attitude to you, who had fed and groomed her since she was a mere pony. How was she sweetening up to someone she had just seen?

Maybe she’s still under a spell, you thought with malice, but then a more honest thought came to mind, and it only made you angrier.

Or perhaps animals can be just as enchanted with him as humans can.

“What are you talking to her for?” you interrupted them, letting out an aggravated groan as the cocoon engulfed you tighter. “You’re sharing words with her as if she’d spread them!”

Beomgyu slid his eyes upward to you. “I was just asking Aurum if she’d like to have an apple.”

“No, I’ll give her one myself—” you tried to say, but then stopped short. “Wait. How do you know her name?”

He looked at you as if you had asked the most ridiculous question. “Because she just told me.”

You stopped struggling in the cocoon. “What did you just say? Aurum told you?”

Hands never ceasing his comforting upon the horse, he raised a quizzical brow. “Pardon me, jackal, but do you mean to tell me that you...you cannot talk to animals?”

Maybe you were not wrong to think the heir of the Earth Kingdom absolutely crazy.

He gestured to the world around you both. “Can you not sense each and every creature nearby? Can you not hear their heartbeats, in sync to their purrs and murmurs?

“Can you not hear the very trees breathe around you?”

You did not know what to say. Perhaps you did not understand his words, what he really meant by a tree breathing. Was that even possible? You thought it unimaginable.

So you offered him the only thing that remained in your mind.

“I have never felt these things.”

The hand upon Aurum’s nuzzle paused, unable to accept the statement which you offered him.

His suspicions were confirmed. Your hatred of nature and all the beings which it birthed had rid you of your powers.

He had seen this before — lost souls who had done grave wrongdoings to the earth, and as a consequence, their very instincts were snatched, right down to the basics. There was no shortage of Lumberjackals in the palace dungeons, and upon closer inspection, he saw that these woodcutters felt no connection to their surroundings. It broke his heart seeing the lack of attachment, the lack of desire for exploration and yearning for their powers, but he knew it could not be helped.

Whoever crosses nature would not be forgiven.

Still, when he inspected the confused, tired gaze of yours, searching him for any suspected lunacy, he just knew that he could not toss you in another old cell. This plan he had in mind could not occur through rotting in one place for the rest of your life.

“Worry not then, jackal.” He raised his hand, magic blooming from his palm. “I am going to change that.”

Whispering to your horse, he listened for a soft neigh before heaving atop her back, hissing at the reins and other controls tying her down. You watched with slight fear. “W-wait a minute,” you started, trying to squeeze out of the vines, but with no luck. “You’re not going to just leave me here, are you?”

Patting Aurum’s mane, he voiced out calmly, “I wish with my whole heart, but then my plan will not work.”

You pursed your lips, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief. “If you were not a prince, I would have cursed you.”

With a flick of his hand, a rush of magic travelled to your cocoon; you felt yourself turning on your front, hovering you upright as the power gravitated you back on the ground, loosening the vines.

“Not like that has stopped you before,” he merely countered as he observed you shrug off weeds in slight humiliation. “Now get on. We have somewhere to be.”

He waited a moment, sighing when you would not oblige. “Is something the matter?”

You wanted to say yes — gods, you wanted to scream at him to get off Aurum, leave you alone and let you cut trees in peace, but of course, that would be an impossible route to take. You still had no inkling of why the Prince of your kingdom was having mercy on you, and you would be quite the fool to exploit it foolishly.

With gritted teeth, you kept your complaints behind your tongue as you brought your foot on the stirrup, heaving upwards as you brought your leg to the other side, settling upon the horse. “Now,” Beomgyu began, looking over his shoulder. “There is no need to be shy. You may put your hands around me as the horse goes fast—”

“I shall be completely fine, thank you,” you interrupted him, brows furrowed. What was this prince even doing? You wondered whether he was a fraud. With that power you witnessed, though, you highly doubted it.

And his features. There is no way a commoner could possess such enchanting beauty.

Flustered, you soured even further.

“Are you ready, jackal?”

You grunted out a yes, which was enough for the boy to command Aurum to start.

The horse, against your expectation, began galloping much faster, and with a yelp you were nearly sent flying out of the seat. Your hands, on instinct, wrapped around Beomgyu’s waist, and when you realised what you had done you cursed yourself for obliging him.

You could almost hear his grin. “I told you!” he exclaimed over the noise of hooves clattering against the rocky mud.

If only you could slap the heirs of kingdoms. “Just take me where you have in mind!” you barked back. “I need to be back to Metallum at dawn.”

“That will be just enough!”

The horse swept past more trees, animals scurrying from your path as the moon lit the dim forest path. You held onto the prince for dear life, refusing to acknowledge the hard surface beneath his silk, his ethereal warmth radiating onto you.

“Hey, jackal?”

A sigh. “Yes?”

“Your horse’s name.” A pause. “Aurum.”

You looked to the trees whooshing past your vision. “What of it?”

Beomgyu whispered for the animal to slow down, scanning his surroundings for his destination. “’Gold’. A very ingenious name.”

He glanced at your irritated face, and smiled. “My mare is called Argenti.”

Your mouth parted at the little revelation.

Argenti. Silver.

Before you could say more on the matter, the boy stopped the horse, cooing at her and praising her for helping him. Swinging his leg over, he jumped off the horse gracefully. He fixed his flower crown before turning to face you, falling rather awkwardly on the grass.

A small laugh escaping him, you daggered him with your gaze as you stepped beside him, a hand on Aurum. Your stare lingered as he took a circle turn of the surroundings, moon almost winking at him as it journeyed in the blanket of night. After a while, Beomgyu pointed to the tree nearby you, stepping past you to palm its trunk. “Here we go.”

Fingers stretching, magic spluttered as it swirled into the thick expanse of the leaves, nearly covering the sky with their excess. The matter squeezed through, and brought out the hidden vines, tumbling down till they reached the roots. Grabbing onto the plants, the prince turned his head towards you, an offer in his eyes.

You hated how you understood exactly what he meant. “I am not going up with you,” you retorted.

“It’s my arms or the dungeon.”

Gulping, you swallowed down your irritation for him. Taking a step towards him, you maintained a safe distance as you made sure he was aware of your distaste. “Just get us up already.” Damn the gods for making him so aggravatingly beautiful, you thought shamelessly as you looked at him. “Your Highness.”

Perhaps he knew, for the little smile was back, wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you close. “That’s more like it,” he murmured out before willing his magic into motion.

Your breathing hitched as you were pulled rapidly upward by the vines, breaking through the surface of the leaves. You closed your eyes, feeling the scraping of the branches against your clothes until you felt yourself still, listening only to the deep breaths of the prince beside you. His hand was still snaked at your side.

“Open your eyes, jackal.”

Somehow, on instinct, you obliged.

And widened them further.

You were in another world entirely — the branches expanded beyond your vision, intertwining with the others from different trees, so intricately interlinked beneath your feet that they created a floor. Upon this branching surface there was a little room, decorated with every unusual object that one could identify. Beside the bed, interwoven by these branches, you saw an abundance of flowers and leaves, an lamp of glowing fireflies resting in the corner, and a thousand other items which needed further explanation.

Judging by the awe on your face, the boy answered you, heading to the small cabinet where everything was placed. “A collection of gadgets,” he began, using his magic to separate every object. “That I’ve bought or been gifted since my princedom.” He took out a few unrecognisable things and strolled to the wardrobe, made from the same intertwining branches, and opened the doors, rummaging through.

“What are you even looking for?” you asked, but were dutifully ignored as he kept searching. You admired the intricate scenery, the plush excess of leaves beneath your shoes, shielding you and the prince nearby.

You heard him let out a satisfied ah! as he closed the doors shut. He walked over to you, showing you the rather odd object — it was an unusually large ice cube, miniscule snowflakes etched onto its every side as it orbited slowly in Beomgyu’s hand.

Your curious gaze upon the gadget had him into explanation. “A present from the Ice Prince,” he said, admiring the cold gift in his palms. “It provides an infinite water supply, so is incredibly useful for long journeys.”

“Taehyun, is he not called?” You shivered at the thought. “I am shocked to think he is capable of such small kindnesses.”

Beomgyu slid his eyes to yours. “Taehyun is not the man that his subjects have painted him to be.” His irises swirled in an indecipherable emotion. “Sometimes, one cannot judge the character of another simply based on rumour alone. Only with having conversation can one truly have an honest opinion.”

A small part of you wondered if he truly meant that for Taehyun, or to you, another villain in the Earth Kingdom’s millennia-old tale. Whatever it may be, you looked away, wondering when you’d be able to leave the prince’s presence.

“Right,” you heard him say, pocketing the other unknown object in his breast pocket of his gown. “Let us go on ground once more.”

The boy was about to tug on the vines again when he was interrupted by a most unusual sound.

Well, not unusual, considering you were situated in a tree house, but the noise was so shrill you instantly looked down to its origin.

Before you was a little squirrel, cheeks puffed as its little hands perched on its sides. Its soft tail moved rapidly behind its body, indicating irritation.

Its small, black eyes were fixated upon the boy beside you. Letting out yet another squeak, you saw Beomgyu sigh out in exasperation, as if he had just remembered an important matter.

“Oh gods, I do apologise!” He exclaimed, falling to his knees as he held his free hand out, the other holding the hovering ice cube still. “I’m afraid I cannot feed you now, but would you be able to wait?”

The squirrel let out another squeak, and this time the prince flinched. You gawked at the scene — so not only can he command the trees, but he could talk to animals?

What can this boy not do?

“Ji, I am sorry!” Fishing out an acorn from his breast pocket, he offered it before him. “I have one, if it helps! I promise to feed you properly after I am done with a certain task.”

Even so, the animal seemed much unimpressed. It then turned its little head to you, and you could have sworn that its eyes judged your very soul.

It squeaked some more, and this time Beomgyu widened his eyes, cheeks flushing. “By Mother Nature, no!” He bellowed out, panicked eyes fleeting towards you. “No, I just met her today.”

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, raising a brow. The squirrel then made another sound, one you could not decipher but, judging from the boy’s reaction, could definitely take a wild guess. “By gods, is this creature mocking me?”

You were rewarded with further squeaking, but was instantly silenced by Beomgyu. “Ji, no! I cannot have you being sarcastic tonight. Save your grievances for tomorrow morning!”

And as the prince scooped the squirrel in his hand, he walked over to the bed, settling it on the sheets. “Stay here. I will be back.”

There was sure to be complaints, but the boy kept sending looks of apology as he stepped back to the edge of the exit, tugging on the vines. “Deeply sorry for Jisung’s behaviour,” he said, swirling the cube slowly. “He is grumpier tonight as I have not fed him this evening.”

“A pet squirrel, huh?” You interrogated, looking down to the grass below. “And one you can talk to? Is that how you could communicate with Aurum?”

Nodding, the prince held his arm out. “Are we ready?”

You hurrying my shook your head. “Not again!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll slide down myself. Without your help.”

Shrugging, the boy held on tighter to the vine. “Your wish, jackal,” he said, and jumped down. Perking up, you squatted down to see him descend smoothly down the tree, landing perfectly on the grass.

Grabbing onto the plant, you looked back to the grumpy pet, stuffing the acorn in his mouth.

He then stuck his tongue out, and you gasped at the audacity. “Rude!” You shouted, but we’re only answered with shrill squeaking. Ignoring the creature, you took the vine by both hands, and followed suit.

Your descent was much less graceful, landing instead on your backside. You were met with the huffed laughter of the prince, and you forced down the urge to beat him with his stupid flower crown. Or perhaps tie these vines around his neck and strangle him.

No, that would only result in him using his silly magic. Awful, attractive bastard.

“What are we doing now, Highness?” You wondered out loud, rubbing your sore backside. “Do tell me there is some use of your rather odd ice cube.”

Beomgyu, after strolling further into the woods, slowed himself for you to catch up. “There is some use, unfortunately for you.” He waved you over, stepping past the wild bushes in his path. “Follow me, jackal!” he called out to you.

Grudgingly, you did as he asked, hugging yourself from the cold breeze of the midnight, wondering where in Terrae he was trying to take you. The trees towered over you like intimidating strangers — if the prince spoke true, then you wouldtuly be unwelcome.

You were surrounded by this coercion until the forest opened up to an open grassland, encircled by the nature which looked down at you. Beomgyu turned to you, bringing out a few seeds from his trouser pockets and standing right in the middle of the circle.

“There you are,” he said as you stepped beside him. He glanced at the moon, measuring the amount of time he had left.

“What are you going to do?” you asked him, still clueless regarding the whole situation. Why has he not sent you to the dungeons already?

His eyes travelled to your face. With a half-soft scoff, he held out his hand, the seeds now in perfect view. “It is not what I’m going to do,” he began. “It is what you are going to do.”

The confusion grew within you. “What do you mean?” you tried to clarify. “What am I to do with these seeds?”

Beomgyu’s eyes promised answers. “Bring out your hand, jackal.”

You did as you were told, holding out your hand as he put the seeds in your palm, fingers barely brushing against your skin. He then descended, knees upon the grass as he patted to the space beside you. “Come, sit.”

Pursing your lips in thought, you knelt before the grass, seeds in your enclosed fist as your gaze never strayed from the boy. “Your Highness—”

Magic oozing from his fingers interrupted your demand, slipping into the earth. Slowly, but surely, a small hole was separated by the green matter, dirt being shovelled to create a dip in the grassland.

Once he ceased his conjuring, he jerked his head towards the new opening. “Place the seeds in the hole,” he instructed. “Gently now! Treat them with the utmost care.”

Grumbling in response, you leaned forward as you gingerly put each seed at the corners of the muddy dip, noticing a small spark with each placement of the grain. It was a bizarre feeling, but assumed it normal in the ways of gardening as you inserted the dirt over them, covering them fully.

You peered at the prince then, who brought out the large ice cube. Turning it rapidly, treacle of water dripped down to the ground, moistening the earth and feeding the seeds of its necessities. Putting the gadget back in his storage belt, he then returned his hand upon the damp mound, closing his eyes in a fixated peace. More magic swirled from his hands, but this time it encircled not only the place where you had placed the seeds, but you, all of you, engulfing you in its otherworldly warmth.

“Your Highness?” You whispered out, but he was murmuring, murmuring words you could not comprehend, words which felt like you were not meant to hear. His curls were being lifted slightly with the tendrils of his power, but he stayed rooted to his spot, carrying on with what you feared was a grotesque ritual.

You, too, became still when you felt fingers curl around your hand.

On instinct you looked at him, eyes widening — you should have expected his hand to radiate some form of heat, considering this boy had such an unusual glow about him, but this…

Despite the soft chaos around the two of you, the touch was oddly comforting.

His hand, dragging you out of your thoughts, led yours to the place you sowed the little grains of life, and spread apart your fingers till they covered nearly the entire, dug up earth. More matter escaped from his fingers, shooting further warmth upon the back of your hand, and travelling up to your heart.

“Close your eyes, jackal,” you heard him chant from his cocoon of magic. “I need you to see from within.”

“See what?!” You beseeched, but his fingers held onto you a little tighter, and, as if he commanded your very body, had your eyelids descend shut, cornering you into the chambers of your mind.

See from within.

What could you see?

Darkness. Eternal darkness, and rusted iron, spilled mercury, and all the grim faces of the people who wanted to decimate the very place you knelt in.

I cannot see! You screamed in your mind, because in the whirlwind of his power you felt alone, trapped in your own mind, trying to join in on a ritual which would cursed the likes of you.

But in reality, you were not alone.

No, not when you felt something foreign in your body.

You swore you stopped breathing.

Your fingers felt squeezed by another, but was ignored because you could see a whole other heartbeat which was not your own.

A familiar voice entered your mind.

“Do you see it?”

The prince’s voice; the soft, almost desperate inquiry, which you could not help but answer.

“Yes...yes, by Terrae, I do see it.”

And perhaps he said some more, but you were not listening to his words. His speech seemed a little insignificant to the little heartbeat — it was as faint as the scent of departure, delicate as a snowflake, and as real as yourself, the prince, and the neverending forest.

When you tried to lift your hand, Beomgyu’s fingers halted you still. You could not believe that you did not mind it. “Whose...whose is it, your Highness?”

You were positive that he did not hear you with the lack of volume you let slide from your tongue. However, he answered your question, almost feeling the joy radiating from his response.

“The seeds.”

Shocked, you opened your eyes, and found the Prince of Earth staring at you with an elevated joy. He gestured to observe your creation, and when your eyes fell upon the sliver of a stem which broke through the earth, between the spaces of your fingers, you wondered whether this was all a dream.

You could not help the curse which escaped you. The boy beside you spluttered into laughter, and you turned to see his face radiating with elation. The heartbeat, the one which you thought was under your control, proved you wrong as it skipped its beat along to his laughs.

“Wh-what are you laughing at?” You demanded, but you were unable to execute it with the anger you wish you held for him. He offered you a honeypot of smiles.

“You’ve brought life to the forest, sweet jackal.”

The little plant shivered in response, along with your own hairs at the back of your neck, which stood at his announcement. Its faint heartbeat grew louder, as well as your own in your ears.

“Do you feel it now?” he whispered, leaning ever so close as he looked to the forest around you. “Do you feel the trees breathing in your presence?”

Unfortunately, although you could sense your plant’s essence, the heartbeats of every tree in the forest were still unheard. You shook your head no, but that did not wipe the grin off his face.

“We have time,” he reassured you. “Just know that Mother Nature has hope for you still.”

He took your hand, putting another upon the back as he brought you a different kind of warmth. “I have hope for you.”

You parted your mouth, unaccustomed to the contact, the kindness...to all that he represented.

His eyes locked with yours, and although he had spared you the wrath of his palace dungeons, you feared whether you could escape the imprisonment of his gaze.

There was no doubt in your mind as you let yourself be arrested into his stare — the Prince of the Earth was not going to haunt just a single night.

FRATERNISING WITH THE HEIR OF REGNA TERRAE WOULD BE THE DEATH OF YOU.

Of course, that was not the last time you saw him — you had become something of a personal project to him, a sin which must be reversed. Almost every night after the fateful encounter, you snuck out from the fences of the Metallum villages, barely evading the suspicious eyes of the Kim brothers, and met with him under his treehouse.

You did not know why you endeavoured so ardently in seeing him. It was not like he had become any less irritable with his amused grins and unmatched power, but there was something about him which you could not fend off.

In a way, he made you believe you were worth more than simple woodcutting, selling oaks in the market, the empty promises of revenge against the Natural Kingdom.

Somehow, he made you realise that, maybe, you truly were deserving of a more memorable path.

These very thoughts accompanied you as the sun began to set, pulling your hood over your head as you swept past the familiar trees, reining in the urge to greet every woodland creature which scurried past you. The past few weeks, after many misunderstood arguments with the Prince’s pet squirrel, you learned the slight quirks which the animal possessed, his every movement and what it would signify. You had Beomgyu to thank once again, but each time you wished to do so, he would say the same, hair-rising reassurance.

“Fret not, sweet jackal. It is a pleasure to show you the wonders of nature.”

Sweet jackal. The endearment made you so flustered, and that aggravated you to the greatest extent. You had already shared your name with the boy, but he insisted on calling you this name, as if the two of you had already established an intimacy from decades before.

The very thought had your actual heartbeat racing.

You made sure to completely dismiss this foolery as you found the special opening of the grassland in sight, the glowing figure waving you over. A small smile involuntarily curled at your lips, hurrying closer till you fully saw Prince Beomgyu’s face clearly in the setting sun.

“You have arrived much earlier this evening,” he said in a way of greeting, fixing his flower crown as his squirrel played with the petals. “I would not say I’m displeased.”

On your part, you certainly were not either — he bore more finery than usual, his normal green gown threaded with gold swirls at the hems, small vines tied around his ears as natural jewellery. His hair was sprinkled with petals, a trait Jisung adored as he settled in the nest of his locks. His hands, too, were intertwined with dark vines, swirls wrapped around his fingers like extended rings.

By the gods, he truly was an exquisite being.

He noticed your silence, raising a groomed brow. “Is something the matter?” he asked, but when he saw your eyes dart to anywhere but his own, he immediately understood. You just managed to catch a satisfied quirk of his lips before he turned his attention to your plant.

Following his trail, you brightened up to see your creation in full bloom — bright red poppies, stark against the pool of grass, stood as they swayed to the evening breeze. You knelt down to observe them closer, and felt a peculiar sense of pride at sensing their clear heartbeat harmonising with yours.

“They’re my favourite flower,” the boy said behind you. “I have always adored how they stand out amongst all the others.”

Watching the poppies almost dance in the cool air, you stood upwards once again. “Then why do you not wear them?” you asked out of curiosity.

“Because my parents do not like me wearing them.” He gestured to the flower crown, at risk of being torn up by Jisung. “They say the colour is too harsh.”

He clicked his tongue in irritation. “At least they could have spared me on my birthday.”

You were about to comment on his parents when those words escaped his mouth. Your own mouth parted in surprise. “Your birthday is today?”

The prince mocked being stabbed in the chest, nearly sending the squirrel to the trees. Taking Jisung from his hair, he propped him on his shoulder. “You have truly wounded me, ____!” he whined. “All this time together, and you had no inkling?”

Although he was only jesting, it only embarrassed you further. “I truly am sorry, your Highness!” you apologised, clasping your hands together. “If I had known, I would have made you a present.”

“Oh?” He took a step towards you. His eyes danced in mirth. “And what would you have made me?”

That seemed to rob you of your speech. “Well, um…” you trailed off, searching your now useless mind of any decent idea for a gift, but he waved off your fluster, chuckling.

“It is no problem, dear jackal,” he said, looking at the red flowers once more. “Seeing your poppies in full growth is a gift to me anyway.”

You wished he had not said that; glancing at them now, you could only hear his fascination within the petals.

There he was again — staining your every entity of his remnants. How much more till he stains your very soul?

Jisung’s irritated squeak brought you back to the forest. You tried not to murder the damned creature as you muttered out, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Beomgyu groaned out. “I shan’t have you calling me that hideous title all the time.” He put a hand to his chest. “Have we not reached first name basis?”

Despite your surprise, you offered him a scoff. “Jackal is not my first name,” you jeered. “And please. You’re the prince of our land. Anyone who catches me being informal with you will surely have my head.”

“I would never let them,” he merely said. “Not before I show you one last part of the forest.”

You quirked a quizzical brow. “I think you’ve shown me half your kingdom by now.”

“But this is...quite different.”

The boy stepped closer to you, reaching out his hand. You found yourself warming up as he enveloped it with yours, a gesture so small yet so triggering to your nerves.

“Follow me, ____.”

With the tug of his fingers, you were led out of the grasslands and back into the jungles of Regna Terrae, catching familiar sights of ancient mahoganies and birches, different variations of trees all grouped together.

As the moon began to ascend, your anxiety increased. His hand worked wonders for your skin, but at the back of your mind, you could not shake off the image of the Kim brothers wondering where you had gone so long.

Especially Namjoon. Seokjin and Taehyung may have been much simpler in the brain, but the leader of the trio bore his suspicions of your whereabouts. He always knew you were never enthusiastic of your occupation as a Lumberjackal, so your sudden interest to roam the woodlands for hours into the night certainly had his ears perking. Of course, you always made sure to know that you were going without being followed, but in the end, the three brothers were quite unpredictable.

You just hoped that whatever the prince had to show you, it would be seen quick enough to leave.

The density of the forest began to increase, and you soon began to doubt whether you had been to this part of the Kingdom before. It was then Beomgyu’s hands flowed with magic, and completely changed the scenery. The ancient trees, trunks as wide and thick as horses began to move apart to make way for him and you, the squirrel holding onto his shoulder tightly as it too squeaked in surprise. Your own eyes widened as each element of nature bent to his will, creating an easier path for his boots to step onto.

It was clearly a sight for admiration. These few weeks you had begun to realise the power of the earth, and how rich and true its roots lay. You felt the faint hum of their essences as you rushed past them, hand still clasped with his, and you dipped your head in thanks to the trees, hoping that one day you would hear them sing welcomes to you.

Slowing down, the group was barred by the curtain of thick vines, hiding you from the world behind. “I have never seen this before,” you wondered out loud, but when Beomgyu let go of your hand, and stepped forward, hands stretched out, your curiosity reigned further.

Jisung quickly scurried from his shoulder, ending up on the muddied path as he watched with black eyes of the phenomenon about to occur. You made to make fun of the squirrel when the prince let out an aggravated moan, hurling your head to his direction.

His heavenly voice chanted in a millennia old language, huge power emitting from his finger tips and swirling to the tumbling vines of the entrance. You could see the sweat beading down his forehead at the sheer effort it took, but he stayed rooted, sending surges of green matter to the cold nature.

Slowly, the curtain began to withdraw. Blinding light cut through, and when the boy let out a roar, pushing the whole family of vines apart you hid your head from the white bursting through.

There was a deathly silence for a singular moment.

You heard his ragged breathing, lasting for ten seconds before it turned into relieved, panted chuckling.

Bringing your hand away from your face, you looked to see beyond the curtain.

Your very breath was snatched from your lungs.

Before you was the most enchanting deity of nature you had ever seen in your existence — it was a glowing white tree, trunk as wide as the two of you twice over, etched with milky-coloured wrinkles that contained sparkles of ancient magic. The leaves, much like finely cut diamonds, protruded from every branch which stretched towards every corner the eye could see. The diamonds were infinite, shining from the gentle light of the moon.

Even though you had never seen it before, you knew exactly what it was.

“The Tree of Life.”

Your gaze dared to break away to see the prince for a second, whose own breathing seemed to have halted. Sensing your stare, he looked back at you, his face half glowing from the deity’s light.

“I...I thought it did not—” you tried to say, but of course you could not when it was right there before you, as if it had been waiting to be found all its life.

“Exist?” He took a step forward. “Every myth is borne from truth after all.”

Indeed it was — you had learned of the Tree of Life when you were a mere girl, listening to fairy tales before being told to sleep. This Tree could not be seen by the common man, and legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk. Evidently, no one could prove this theory, but its mystery had what inspired so many people, metal and earthbenders alike, to find it, for opposing reasons.

You knew why Namjoon wanted to find it — for the amount of gold a singular leaf could bring him. Now, having accused him of believing in fantasies, you almost felt ashamed for having ridiculed his searches.

“Come.”

You perked up at the Prince’s voice.

“You must get a closer look.”

Picking up the pace of your feet, you fell into step beside him as the two of you started towards the legend come to life. The closer you approached the more enchanting it looked — the leaves glistened further, as if greeting you with their shine.

Jisung scurried between you both, his little head never straying from the Tree. It let out an awed squeak, and Beomgyu hummed in agreement.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”

You shook your head, transfixed. “Never,” you responded, feeling the very earth shift beneath your feet.

If nothing else convinced you of the power of nature, then the existence of this deity certainly did.

You stepped past the boy, the grass hushed beneath your feet as you stretched out your hand. When your fingers touched the milky bark your breath shuddered out of you. It was simply unreal. The touch was surprisingly soft, so unlike the normal trees, and with each crack of the bark there was ancient writing inscripted within. With further shock you felt a very distant heartbeat as the fingers ran along the words, faint yet powerful.

By the gods.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” you whispered to the Tree, tracing the aged trunk. “Your Highness, is everything about the legend true?”

There was no response — you figured he was still star-struck, and you continued to admire the most beautiful force you had ever seen.

It was not until you heard Jisung’s shrill squeak that you turned around.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Because there he was, the one man you dreaded to see. The one man who held Beomgyu’s unconscious body in his hands as he dropped him upon the grass. You noticed the little dart on the side of his neck, and all the blood in your body was drained.

Kim Namjoon.

His answering smirk was more a flash of teeth. “Do you believe me now, ____?”

You backed up against the Tree, eyes darting to the prince. “What did you do to him?” you asked instead, voice void of any emotion.

“That does not matter,” he dismissed. “But of course, it would matter to you now that you’ve attached yourself to him.”

He took a step forward, his ebony machete glinting in the light of the phenomenon behind you. “Stand aside, girl. It is time to make our fortunes.”

On instinct, you stretched a hand out. “I cannot.”

The man was taken aback by your hesitance. “Whatever the gods do you mean?”

Gulping, you tried to steel your will, inhaling slowly. “I cannot let you do it, Namjoon.” Your eyes glanced at the still prince before glaring at the perpetrator. “You won’t get a single branch of the Tree.”

A harsh laugh escaped him, taking a step forward. “Oh, and you’re going to stop me?”

You brought out your own sword — the one which you promised to use on Beomgyu — and raised it toward him. “Do not come any further,” you warned.

It seemed the man was not not going to compromise.

Not when he swung his machete, well on his way to hack you to pieces.

You quickly brought your weapon upon you to deflect his aim, sending him forward, and away from the Tree.

He can try and hurt the Tree of Life.

Easily gaining step, Namjoon mustered his power, ebony sharpening from his fingers as he clashed against you, lightening-fast strikes of his machete having you strained. You never doubted the bastard’s swordsmanship — he was skilled enough to be a general in the King’s royal army.

A shame he chose his fighting for a darker purpose.

You tried to slice the free space of his abdomen, but the man was sharp, quickly dodging as he swerved to the side, another clash of weapons ringing around the forest.

“You cannot beat me, ____!” He roared, one hit after the other, sending you further back.

Taking every hit, you stumbled, gaining your step yet staggering once again with his sword. After all, you could not outsmart the master; he was the man who taught you to fight.

Even so, you refused to give up. “I can die trying!” You seethed as he brought his strength down. His weapon, screeching against your own, slowly descended, closer and closer to your neck.

A harsh groan escaping, you mustered all your strength into sending his machete aside, barely a spare second in your name before you whirled to your left, missing the power blow.

“All this for a bloody tree!” He screeched, thundering towards you. “We would have been rich, you fool!”

Another mighty hit, and you were sent back, averting his strikes with your sword. Because you were so exhausted, your magic would not burst from your hands, adding more power to your weapon. It was your melee strength, nearly all gone, and your nimble feet.

“What is all this for?!” He demanded, slicing at your cloak, cutting through the fabric of your trousers. The clash of weapons continued, faster and faster. “What is worth more than all the riches of the Kingdom?!”

Amidst the brawl, your eyes slipped to the figure before you. Distant, yet instantly recognisable with his eyes closed, and mouth parted, flower crown scattered around his head. Jisung, too, laid injured beside him, watching your fight with fear in his little eyes.

What is all this for?

You only had one person in mind.

But that was not enough.

No, not when that sliver of a second gave Namjoon enough time to strike you, sending his machete straight into your stomach.

A shuddered gasp escaped you as the machete entered through — a burst of pain shot through your entire body, echoing the fatality of your situation. Tears stung your eyes as you dropped your sword, looking at your opponent in the eyes.

The Leader of the Lumberjackals showed no mercy as he yanked out his weapon.

A moan rushed past your lips as you fell to your knees, gripping your blood-gushing stomach. Namjoon gazed down at you with no remorse at all. “Perhaps he was not enough,” he said, cold as metal.

He stepped past you, focusing on the glistening Tree of Life, its white treasures still exalted in the moonlight. Your body, completely spent, could not hold you upright, falling straight into the grass. Straining, you cried out as you stretched your hand out in vain efforts to stop him, but it was simply no use.

You had been defeated.

And now, after witnessing the most perfect element of nature you had ever seen, you were to watch it be decimated.

This is how it ended. You, fumbling for your last breath, your prince nearby and probably dead.

Namjoon raked his eyes over the Tree, grinning wildly. “Oh, you are going to make me the richest man in the Kingdom,” he declared, raising his machete till it hovered just before the bottom of the trunk.

He elevated his voice so you could hear. “Enjoy watching me destroy what you sacrificed yourself for!”

Closing your eyes, you were about to let oblivion take over.

You awaited the sound of his weapon against the bark.

What you heard was something completely different.

An explosion filled your ears as white light, even more blinding than the one before, had you squeezing your eyes further shut. You made out the screams of your once leader as it was drowned out by the eruption, and you tried to see what had so suddenly occurred, only to be greeted with more brazen lights.

What...what was going on?

When the deafening noise quietened, you picked up on the soft crunch of grass, edging closer and closer to you. A compelling force was felt against your dying soul, and you wondered if the Reaper had finally come to take you.

When you felt air-light hands on your abdomen, you did not expect death to be so warm.

Slowly, dragging open your eyes, you prepared yourself to be taken to the afterlife.

What you saw instead was something else entirely.

Something which made even the Tree of Life as a mediocre enchantment.

Looking over you was not human — not with the glowing, shimmering skin, sparkles and shine radiating off its golden, liquid body. Her eyes were white with the same light you had seen twice this evening, fluid locks of hair flowing all around her. Her lips offered a radiant smile, already bringing some life back into you, and her whole body, although similar to yours, was free of attire, exuding the light of a star.

Perhaps you truly were dead.

The being, however, proved you wrong with her words.

“Brave human,” she began, and her velvet voice had you clutching your stomach. “I saw what you did to defend me.”

You tried to open your mouth to tell her that you defended the Tree, but then your eyes dilated at the revelation.

The legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk.

But this...this god-like creature was not just a mere girl.

“You sacrificed yourself for my Tree,” she stated, voice echoing across the woodlands. “For my forest, my every creation, despite being an enemy of mine in the past.

“You deserve a token of my gratitude.”

Her voice nearly put you to sleep with the way it lulled in the midnight air. You wondered in your tired mind what she could offer you now that you were breathing your last breath.

Then, you felt her hands upon your stomach.

A loud groan escaped your lips as the torn flesh began to stitch on its own accord, courtesy of the magic which poured from the sublime being. Your whole body worked to heal you, reversing the damage done by your once leader, whose whereabouts you had no inkling of.

The pain, which once tore at every nerve within you, began to fade away, and you opened your eyes further after gaining the strength, fully taking in the earthly spirit which had restored you.

You parted your mouth, voice parched as you rasped out, “I...Beomgyu…”

A heavenly smile curled at her lips. “The prince is fine, soldier. It would take more than a dart to eliminate the heir of the Earth.”

A relieved breath left your lips. You then looked to the being, putting your hands above hers. “I am not who I was,” you whispered.

Mother Nature smiled down at you, and you knew then and there that perhaps the world is not so cruel after all.

“I know, brave human.”

The luminous creature ascended to her feet, letting go of your hands. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, and turned on her heel. Struggling to your side, you watched as the otherworldly figure stepped up to the Tree of Life, looking at you one last time.

Raising a hand to her chin, she blew some magic towards your way, bathing you in sparkles. With a final beam, she slipped into the tree, enlivening the whole structure till it stood straight once again.

You truly could not believe what you saw.

Feeling the glimmer dancing on your skin, however, you knew this was not a figment of your imagination.

Mother Nature saved you from death.

Truly, utterly, ethereal.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard soft coughing nearby, and you heaved upward at the sound, your strength all present.

Beomgyu.

Upon your feet, you rushed to where he lay, stumbling from the hurrying as you fell to your knees, hands clinging onto his face. Jisung, his injuries healed from the celestial visit, scurried upon his owner’s chest, waiting for him to awaken.

“Beomgyu?” You murmured out, fingers stroking the soft planes of his cheeks. “Beomgyu, damn you, open your eyes!”

Tilting his face till it faced you, you watched as the prince’s eyes fluttered open, tired and wide and absolutely beautiful.

A trembling breath gasped out of you. “What…” he grated out, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “What just...happened?”

You willed the tears in as you caressed his face. “The legend was true.”

His confused gaze had you continuing. “Beomgyu, I saw the celestial creature when I was dying, and she saved me. It was true, Beomgyu, she healed me with her hands and—”

Your rambling ceased when the boy brought his fingers to your face. Warmth flooded your cheeks, and not because of how hot his hands were.

His smile could have easily beaten Mother Nature’s.

“You called me Beomgyu.”

He did not let you respond as he brought your face down to his, tilting it slightly as he pressed his lips against yours, enveloping you in a sweet kiss.

His mouth was warm, just like him, soft and plush, rendering you helpless over him. Your shock was quite prevalent, but you let the affection take over as you kissed him back, hands carding in his curls. He moved against your lips as his fingers stroked down to your jaw, savouring every feathered touch.

When he broke away, his breathing was ragged, cheeks flushed. He saw your own dishevelled gaze and chuckled to himself.

“I think this might be the best birthday present I have ever received.”

The Prince of Regna Terrae laughed some more when you refused to meet his eyes.

You were about to counter him when you heard another, completely new voice.

“You both could have done that without me being here.”

Your stare dove to his chest, to the direction of the sound.

Jisung the squirrel glared at you with the entire irritation of the Kingdom. “Oh what? So now you can hear me?!”

A yelp resounded from you. “How are you talking?!” You screeched. “You’re a bloody animal!”

“Oh, thank you so very much for stating the blatantly obvious!” He drawled, and you could not comprehend the sarcasm that just came from a bloody woodland creature.

You peered at Beomgyu, who was just as surprised as you were, despite his entertained features. “____,” he started, sitting up straighter. “Does this mean—”

Getting to your feet, you looked around the forest, the Tree of Life standing proudly.

It was then you sensed the heartbeat.

Not just your own, or the poppies — but of the entirety of the Kingdom.

Faraway, yet still present, it thumped against your chest like an echo of your own heart, a harmonisation of all the trees, bushes, flowers and animals. It was almost enchanting how it slowly thudded within you, and with such welcome.

Like greeting a friend you had not seen for a long time.

When you caught the Prince’s gaze, his entire face lit up.

Before you could say anymore, you were swept into the boy’s arms, engulfing you with a hug of eternal warmth. His voice rang along your soul as he declared to the whole word.

“Nature has accepted you, ____!”

You heard the clicked tongue of Jisung beneath you, and Beomgyu brought you at arm’s length before sticking out his tongue at his pet.

He looked to you once more, and saw the very emotions you dared not let yourself believe in.

“I knew you were capable of change, sweet jackal.”

The tears, this time, refused to be held back any longer.

The boy melted as he swept away each tumbling drop with his fingers, clutching your face.

As you leaned in this time, kissing him breathlessly, you tasted the smile which flourished upon his lips, drinking in your every essence.

You wondered, thinking away as your heart beat faster, whether this was still a dream, a vision which would end the moment you woke up, back in the cold village you once called your home.

When you felt the presence of the celestial being again, looking down from the branches of the Tree of Life, you knew that this was no delusion.

Pulling away, you turned Beomgyu to the glistening, living structure, both of you catching sight of her.

Mother Nature smiled at her heirs.

The both of you knew it in your hearts, simultaneously beating.

The heirs of Regna Terrae would not let her down.