#lessa musings

[lessapander]

Back on my shit. ♥

This shelf is the Magical Girls With Swords shelf in the centre column of my set-up, which is all Magical Girls. Largely Sailor Moon, but some Cardcaptor Sakura and these four as well. I tried to fit my shelf of Pretty Cure figures in as well, but the spacing just doesn't play nicely due to having a FigFix Sakura. I might have to reconsider her placement and just store her box elsewhere, frankly. It's too big to display behind her like I've been doing with these.

The other shelves aren't even vaguely ready because as I was sorting through parts from when all my figures used to be displayed elsewhere (stands and accessories got sorted into tackle box compartments by character to save time), I discovered that Super Sailor Moon's hand is snapped off at the peg. It was rattling around in her box and I definitely didn't put it into storage in that state, so I'm a little bit baffled about how that happened. Heat fatigue? I have no idea. As a result, rather than putting everyone together, I've been going through parts and figures to make sure none of the others are damaged.

So far, only Sailor Saturn and Black Lady show any issues, and both are defects that were present since arrival, so I'm not fussed. By the time I got to the bottom of the shelves and these girls, I realised I had never opened Fuu or Utena, so I went ahead and got these girls out and on display. I was already conscious of the quality difference between the Sailor Moon S.H.Figuarts and other figures in the same line, but the difference compared to Figma's offerings is even more glaring. Any wonder I haven't bought anything from the S.H.Figuarts lines in so long, I suppose.

#lessa musings #lessa photos #the great sewing room revamp #figma #magic knight rayearth #revolutionary girl utena

[bladeshowers]

LETTER [ardbert]

send “ LETTER ” for a letter my muse left for your muse!

Heavensward era

Lessa,

If you're reading this, things didn't turn out quite how I expected. Considering the few times we've gone up against one another, I feel that it might and figured it'd be worth it to make amends on the paper. If anyone can beat the Ascians and somehow make everything right, it's you.

Our world, our shard, is going to end because of us. We fought. We did everything perfectly and the world fell to light. Right into the Ascian's plans. The only thing we could do to fix it was to help bring about the rejoining. That's what we were told. When pushed to the edge there was nothing else to do. We either live with the knowledge that we damned our star or hope that, maybe, Elidibus was telling the truth.

Truth be told, after our time together, I do hope you beat us. What's done is done, but that doesn't mean we can stop fighting either. Not unless some bloody miracle happens.

I did enjoy our time together, for what it's worth. I wish we could have had more of it. Waking up next to you on the rare occasions we could was an experience I never could have fathomed before. There's something about you. Something special that I will always hold dear in my heart.

Yours, Ardbert

#ahkmourn #no one compares to you (iri & ardbert) #we were just adventurers (ardbert)

[yamamiya]

Musalchemy

Fleetwood Mac – Storms (Cover) by Sarah-Beth Musalchemy (Sarah-Beth) – Your Muse (acoustic) Musalchemy · Your Muse (acoustic)  牙（タスク）のなかでも昨晩なんだか眠れなくてとカバーする女性。けして若くはないんだが。２年前まで活動していたロンドンのオルタナティブポップバンド、Luunah さんのフロント女性で、アイルランド出身の Sarah-Beth さん（いまは西海岸で Musalchemy 名義で音楽活動中、職業は教師）の音楽は地味にメランコリック剥き出しでなんど聞いても心地よい。うたうひとを思い偲ぶ気がする。いやいや本人は生きてますよ。 Every night that goes betweenI feel a little lessAs you…

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#cover #dreampop #ETHEREAL

[lavendervcined]

...

i have no self control and i’m probably. gonna add my dnd ocs....

#(( out )) ramoth was lessa's and lessa was hers #renier is a gift i need to share with the world #so is Mirkella #so is ALL OF THEM DAMMIT #there's no way i can add ALL of them... but like. #A bunch #i also... probably won't use icons for them #like i'll make their fc graphics for their bio pages but... i don't want.... 3937284972349 icons.... #i already have too many for muses i don't use a lot and too few for the muses i do use a lot

[sylvana-the-tsarina]

Worlds vs Authors

You probably already know this, but recently I’ve been having trouble enjoying books. Even books from authors I normally enjoy a lot.

And here’s something I discovered after some musing.

I’m never going to have A Favourite Author: the author whose every book is an insta-buy without even having to check the blurb. I can use authors as a link between books to see more in their writing style, but I’m never going to feel completely safe in every book they write.

A more reliable way for me to feel safe is by worlds.

Let me explain.

See, most authors that I like have this one world which they write in that’s just Amazing to me. Every book and story in that world with its rules, characters, and vibes is just ✨immaculate✨. And I can use that world as the reliable link to know that I’ll like other stories in here.

For W. R. Gingell, I really only like books set in the world with Between. Everything else is just not for me. For K. M. Shea, nearly every book in the Fairytale Continent, or her other name A. M. Sohma is a great read. But Magiford Supernatural City or Elves of Lessa? Not so much, I’m afraid.

And that’s fine. An author’s writing style and feel is going to change with the genre’s they dabble in, and you can like some of their works and not others. It’s really only authors with just the one world they work in that makes them a reliable link between books, at least for me.

So, yeah. I’m going to use worlds instead of authors to judge a book an insta-buy or just safe. Authors like to experiment. I don’t mind that. I just prefer these books they wrote, and not those. And that’s alright for me.

#my opinion #it’s weird how relieving this is to understand #I’ll probably come back and edit this post to add more detail #but yeah #I’m probably gonna be a weirdo for being that one who’s not /in/ in the fandom #but I’m a weirdo already #so I can handle that #yay for self discovery! #xD #anyway #have a good day! #my thoughts #books #reading thoughts #random thoughts #authors #fantasy #characters #k m shea #w r gingell #a m sohma #reading #likes #worlds

[calenlily]

2, 6, 8, 22 for the writer ask, please and thank you!

Thank you, especially because this ask came just when I was really needing something to draw my attention away from anxiety-inducing IRL shit

2: Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

The sequel to the half-written sequel to Milkshakes and Confessions, which is going to be Buffy/Faith/Angel OT3 in the aftermath of NFA. I need to do a ton of AtS canon review before I feel like I can actually write it, but I’m so excited for when I get there. It’s going to be a fic where Angel is a wreck and Buffy is falling apart and Faith is left wondering how the hell she ended up the stable one, Faith plays the world’s most grudging matchmaker, and Faith and Angel are both hypocrites about “I don’t deserve nice things but you do”.

Also, whenever I manage to get my Pern muse back, I’m psyched to write the next fic in the Bronzerider Kylara verse, because that AU is way too much fun to play around with, and I’m getting to the point where the bi disaster squad shenanigans really start ramping up

6: What character do you have the most fun writing?

Buffy and Lessa are both forever faves who I always enjoy writing. Recently I made my first forays into writing Faith POV and was blown away by how fun that was, definitely want to write more of her.

8: Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

I’d say what I like to write is a subset of what I like to read. I like reading everything I like to write (or nearly everything, at least; occasionally I get plot bunnies that demand to be put on paper that are angstier than is really to my taste), but there are a number of things I love reading but I’m not up to writing – political intrigue, slow burn, and long plotty fic in general are notable examples.

22: Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

All the time, honestly. I like to write things that make me happy, and go back to them like comfort food. Nearly all the recent stuff I’m quite pleased with, but my older work is more iffy. A lot of my old fic just feels clumsy now, and there are a few pieces that I still really like the idea of but am horribly unsatisfied with the execution. (For this reason, one of my current writing projects is a complete rewrite of a BtVS season 3 AU that I published in 2008; I’m almost done with the first part and super excited about it.)

#ask game #writing #btvs #pern #dragonriders of pern

[god-tier-aesthetics]

Could you analyze a session that has a Mage of Blood, Sylph of Heart, Witch of Rage, Muse of Light, Prince of Breath, Seer of Hope, Bard of Time, Knight of Light, Maid of Void, Page of Mind, Heir of Space, Thief of Life, Lord of Void and Rogue of Doom? If that’s too many you don’t have to do it and I hope you have a great day!

Hey amigo I’m very sorry to inform you of this, but Mod Lessa🌺 has left the blog and the other mods who do session analysis feel that there should be a 12 player limit on session analysis. I’m sorry but we won’t be able to do your request.

~Mod Zeros

[thedaughterofkings]

loverofcake hat auf deinen Eintrag geantwortet: loverofcake hat auf dein Foto geantwortet: ...

I have a spotify subscription and it’s available to me via that so I’ll definitely have a listen :D To be honest I couldn’t care less about Phantom plot wise but do love some of the songs and so will sometimes listen to it selectively. Cats and Joseph will always be my favourite Lloyd Webber musicals though :D

Enjoy! :D

Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about phantom, I’m very glad I’m not the only one! Like I really like Masquerade for example, but like just as a song, not in any relation to what it means for the plot, characters, anything^^°

I promise I’m going to watch/listen to Joseph eventually! I’m just not sure yet whether I should watch or listen to it first (to watch it I probably need to figure out whether our old vhs player still works because I think we have a vhs copy of Joseph flying around somewhere) 

For now JCS still takes the favourite Webber spot, sorry!^^

My absolute favourite musical is still My Fair Lady though! :D

#loverofcake #lessa says #musical musings #I don't know if I'm ever going to use that tag again but it's got such a lovely alliteration I can't resist it

[lessapander]

Hakuoki is getting an English release on the Switch!

Going to be screeching about this for the next week. Please excuse me. It's the same two games (now reunited) that I've bought like six times, but I don't care. I'm preordering on day one if it gives the localisation company even the smallest hint to do the rest of the games that have never seen an English release.

#lessa musings #hakuoki #otome games #screaming crying throwing up etc. out of pure unbridled joy and excitement

[bladeshowers]

[ palm kiss ]  –  for the sender’s muse to kiss the palm of receiver’s hand. (Ardbert)

The soft feeling of her lips on his palm lightly tickled and drew his gaze her way. "Feeling affectionate are we?" His tone was light and teasing as his eyes danced over her form. The Warrior hardly let it bother him as they were generally fairly affectionate with one another. Just every now and then she was able to take him by surprise and this was one of those times. His hand shifted so the pad of his thumb caressed her lower lip with equal fondness.

"Love you Lessa."

#ahkmourn #no one compares to you (iri & ardbert)

[infernal-feminae-archived]

Send two names and my muse will say which they’d rather kiss.

Anonymous said:  for agent two, moxxie or blitzo

“Moxxie’s tha’ littler one, right? I’d ratha’ kiss ‘im than tha’ talla’ one. Lessa’ of two evils.”

#🕶️ᴀɢᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ: ɪᴄ ᴅᴀʀᴄʏ #❖ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ: ᴀꜱᴋꜱ #Anonymous

[thatsnarkymage]

Marcurio’s History.

PLEASE NOTE: The following isn’t canon, but rather the backstory I’ve written and built around him ever since he first became my muse in 2011, and parts of it were added during my earlier, years-long roleplays with Lessa and other roleplay partners over the years, so his history is intertwined with other individuals’ OCs, including Lessa’s.

Midsummer’s Requiem (Childhood)

Marcurio Arcanus was born in the town of Cheydinhal in the province of Cyrodiil on the 28th of Rain’s Hand, in 4E 176. He was taught the magick artes by his mother, and combat from his father around 8 years of age. At age 12, he and his parents were spending their summer holiday in the town of Anvil when it was raided by an alarming number of renegade Orsimer who assaulted and killed many of the people residing there. When the Orcs had reached the home Marcurio’s family were staying in during their vacation, they were taken into captivity, seperated, and tortured for nearly two years before Marcurio and his mother were finally released. While mother and son had eventually reunited, the father was never to be found. Devastated at this loss and scarred from the torment inflicted upon him by the Orsimer, Marcurio vowed retribution upon those responsible and to search for his father, refusing to give him up for dead. It was for this very reason that he eventually left his home province at his current age of 25, and found himself on the shores of Skyrim after receiving a tip that his father was somewhere in the Nordic region. To this day, he still searches ...

Blood of The Covenant (Marcurio - Cúchulainn Timeline / Present Day)

After failure upon frustrating failure of any leads pointing towards his ever vigilant search, Marcurio decided he would venture into “savage territory”, the Reach hold, one of the last places in Skyrim he wanted to go. Unfortunately however, his options were becoming slimmer and his desperation stronger with each passing day. Keeping in mind the rumours that were abound surrounding the Witchmen of the Reach, the Forsworn, and their violent treatment of outsiders and non-natives of that hold, he cautiously made his way through the verdant and stony hills whose veins lay rich with silver deep within. Not cautious enough, however, for midway on his journey to the city of Markarth he found himself face-to-face with one of the Reachmen tribes; although he fought them to the best of his abilities, they succeeded in wearing him down and captured and bound him, taking him to their clan residing in the Serpent’s Bluff Redoubt. That evening, as he solemnly contemplated as to what was to become of him, a Forsworn Briarheart had approached the chamber where the mage was being imprisoned. The Reachman was no older than 19 years of age, yet he possessed a sense of maturity that not even a majority of the elder members of his clan withheld. This young man was Cúchulainn, who clearly expressed his disdain for his men’s actions, and he cut Marcurio free of the bindings, confiding to the Imperial mage of his dreams to reunite the people of Markarth and the Reachmen natives, thus ushering in an age of peace. And in order for his dream to come to fruition, Cúchulainn was fighting against the tide, breaking down all of the stereotypes placed on his people. An official ambassador for the Witchmen. Moved by this young man’s ambitions and his unfaltering determination to achieve his goals, Marcurio enlisted his help in finding his father and along the way, Cúchulainn would be able to have safer travel so long as he was in the mage’s company. Two birds with one stone. Months passed, and after enduring many tribulations and hardships, the two became quite close. In the midst of a particularly trying time, Marcurio confessed his feelings for Cúchulainn, who revealed to him his shared heart’s desire. That very night, they became intimate and the Briarheart swore his fealty to the Imperial, who vowed the same oath, promising to protect each other. And their relationship has only grow stronger to this very day, this unlikely pair. Two souls, two hearts, bound forever in love.

#Marcurio #muse's history #I'll make this into a page for the blog later

[lavendervcined]

me @ me: do not add your dnd ocs to your blog, do not add your dnd ocs to your blog, do not--

#anyways someone needs to stop me i'm not even done with the bios for the muses i HAVE #(( out )) ramoth was lessa's and lessa was hers

[ironbite4]

Normally I wouldn’t post anything personal on here but I figured what the hell.  Time for a fanfic of mine.  I give you Rage of the Shadows, a Dragon Riders of Pern fic.  Also my AoO link too.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12221886

When Man first came to Pern, they took little notice of the strange planet that shown red in the night skies.  For two generations, they lived in peace until the planet's orbit brought it close enough to Pern to rain down an indigenous life form known as Thread.  The first Threadfall was devastating to the young colony but in time, human ingenuity won out and though the settlers had to move north to shield, they had developed a powerful protector.  Dragons would fly when Thread was in the sky and men called Dragonriders would guide these awesome beasts in battle.  For 2000 turns the world of Pern would watch the ebb and flow of Threadfall in the many Passes of Red Star.  But now, on the eve of the 9th Pass of Red Star, Pern's Dragonriders have been brought to it's lowest ebb.  Only one Weyr exists when there should be six.  And in the range of mountains near Benden Hold, something strange is happening.

The night was clear, so clear you could reach out and pluck the stars from the night sky.  The twin moons of Pern, Belior had set an hour ago and Timor had been rising late of night.  And Joker was drunk.  Just like always.  The holdless man, thrown out of his rightful hold by his own father 3 Turns ago, lurched out of the wineshop, steady on his feet despite the three skins of good Benden white he had drunk not 30 minutes ago.  The winekeeper had told him, like he always did, to get himself some more marks if he wanted to keep drinking that way.  And by the First Egg, Joker would do just that.  Just like he always did.  Smiling to himself as he made his way to his cot, the drunkard whistled an old sailing tune his father had once tried to taught him.  A chance glance at Benden Peak though stopped Joker in his tracks.  

'Where the bloody hells are the stars?', was the thought that came to the man's mind.  The only one.  For beyond Benden's peak, where the stars should be, was nothing but inky blackness.  They were gone.  And as Joker stared, Timor started to rise up towards it's customary midnight position.  Only as it reached the place where the stars were gone, it too vanished.

'Must be the drink', Joker mused to himself as he wobbled on down the road, a little bit more sober then he was before.

As the drunkard wandered down the road, the strange blackness started to swirl.  The light of the moon started to shine on the dark patch of nothing and it began to rotate faster and faster.  Suddenly, the patch of darkness erupted into a circle of darkness, interspersed with white lighting crackles that defined the now open wormhole.  From the center of it, a single man shaped object was ejected from the tunnel, the object appearing to be on fire as it slammed into the side of the mountain.  Immediately the portal closed, leaving no trace it had ever been.  Within the fiery crater the moon shined down imperviously, rocks and debris still smoking from the impact.  A hand grabbed the side of the hole followed by an arm, a shoulder, then a person, dressed in tattered black clothing.  He leavered himself out of his hole, crawling out of the hole and turning over onto his back with a groan.  Minutes passed as the figure in black simply rested from his labors, the only sign he was alive was his chest rising and falling.  The man opened his eyes, blue eyes that shined in the moonlight for a second before fading.  Hauling himself up he looked around, blinking as understanding began to fill his eyes.  Then rage began building, a rage that had nothing to do where he had landed. His head shot up and he let loose a howl of longing and grief that split the night with it's pain.  Then just as swiftly as it began, it was cut off, leaving only silence in it's wake for miles around.

“This way Masterfarmer,” Manora's voice echoed up from the stone stair case leading to the council room where F'lar and Lessa, Weyrleaders of Benden Wyer spent most of their time now going over the moldy Record skins searching for a way to predict when Thread would fall upon their world to sear it into nothing.  Lessa looked up at the sound of the Headwoman's voice, brushing a lock hair that had escaped from it's usual braid away from her face.  A glance at her weyrmate showed he was too involved in his readings to even pay attention to the intruders.  With a sigh, Lessa pushed away the skin she was attempting to decypher and awaited their visitors.  

Manora was the first to appear, the same calm, cool expression on her face which seemed the same as it was when Lessa arrived on Search 3 Turns ago. She stopped in the door way and bowed her head slightly, Lessa nodding in answer and stepped through with the Masterfarmer, his rough clothing indicating that he had just come from his farmhold. Lessa blinked as she recognized the face of the man, one Owen by name.  He worked the nearest farmhold to Benden Wyr and wouldn't have come from field if it weren't urgant.  As the man came into the chamber, he quickly snatched his hat off his head and bowed his head, the very nervousness of his movements betraying his reason for being here.

“Excuse me Weyrwoman, Weyrleader,” Manora began with no preamble, “a matter of some urgancy has come up and it is something you two should both hear.”  She bowed again and urged the farmer to come forward. F'lar, finally noticing the pair, put aside his Record skin and looked properly attentive.

“Well it's like this,” the Masterfarmer began, “now normally I'd be going to Lord Raid with this but seeing as how this is Weyr business, I came straight here.  See, I'm raising wherries for the dragons down yonder and as of late, something has been killing and eating the birds.  Now I'm no fool, I know there's all sorts of beasts that could do the deed but so far, we can't find anything.  We've tried for the past sevenday to catch the critter but he's smart, to smart.  Can we have some Weyr help?  I'd not be coming here if I didn't think Lord Raid could help.  Sides,” the man's face split in a wide grin, “ain't to often a man can say he's been to the Weyr.”

Lessa smiled back as F'lar out right laughed.  “Masterfarmer Owen,” Lessa said, “I'd like to think that this is something you could probably handle on your own.  But, if I recall, your farmhold is the one nearest to Benden Weyr so I think it'd behoove us to look into this.  Give the weyrlings something to do now that their dragons aren't eating us out of Weyr and Hold.”  Lessa looked over at F'lar who had leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs.  “In fact I think we could possibly do with a flyover, don't you think Weyrleader?”

F'lar scowled at Lessa then turned his attention to the Masterfarm.  “Certainly we could help out.  But if this creature is attacking at night, not sure what use we could be.  Dragons aren't exactly known for their night sight.  That's why we have watch-whers.”

From deep within the Weyr bowl, a chorus of roars punctuated that statement.

The Masterfarmer sighed.  “It's not just during the night this thing attacks.  Its any time!”  The man raised his hands up then brought them down in fists, clearly upset and frustrated at his failure to protect tithe beasts.  “Honestly Weyrleaders, I'm about at my wits ends.”

F'lar made soothing motions at the man.  “Don't fret yourself Masterfarmer, we'll find your beast.”  The Weyrleader flashed a quick grin.  “If it's attacking during the day, I doubt it'll be able to hide from a dragon.  We'll probably catch it, kill it, then have it for dinner before too long.”

The three then exchanged more pleasentries before Manora took the man out.  As they left, F'lar looked over at Lessa.  “Fancy a quick hop over to the farmhold?  I think we've been cooped up here for long enough.”

Lessa grimaced as she got to her feet, stiff from the extended hours they had spent this day.  Looking over at the Record skins on the table she stretched, feeling each and every vertebra pop as she did so.

“I think that'd be an excellent idea.  And I suppose we can bring some lunch. Breakfast was a long time ago,” she eyed F'lar as he got to his feet.  “Just us two or should we bring anyone else?”

“I think F'nor's not doing anything right now,” F'lar replied as he headed to the ledge where his great bronze dragon, Mnementh awaited him.  “The three of us can have a picnic,” was his parting sally.

Lessa merely rolled her eyes and went to collect her flying gear from their chambers.

Three great dragons, one bronze, one brown, and one gold popped out from between just over the farmhold.  A quick landing and consultation provided the info that the wherries were being attacked in the most northern field.  The 3 dragons were quick to get back in the air, effortlessly gliding towards the area.

'A most splended day I think,' Lessa thought to her dragon Ramoth.  A grunt from the great queen was her only answer.  Lessa laughed and patted the great neck over which she rode.  'I take it you're still grumpy?'

'I am not grumpy,' came Ramoth's reply.  'I just don't like the cold.'

'Take heart love of my life,' Lessa grinned as she spied the field that was their destination. 'We're about there then you can lounge in the sun until we're ready to leave.'

As the three dragons glided towards a hill marking the boundry, the entire flock of wherries suddenly burst over it, some taking to the air for a brief  second before coming back down to the ground to engage in the stampede.  So frightened they were they didn't even notice the dragon shadows passing overhead as they headed south towards presumed safety.  The three riders exchanged looks as they came over the hill and all three recoiled in horror.

Upon the field lay the corpses of 5 wherries, 3 of which looked to be partially consumed.  It looked to their eyes like a dragon had been there.  But feasting on the corpse of one of the wherries wasn't a dragon.  The three riders circled over what appeared to be a man, a man who's hair was shaggy and unkempt and he was saved from nakedness by some tattered black clothing.  F'nor and F'lar exchanged glances then F'lar motioned for them to land some distance from this apparent madman who continued his grisly feast.  

As they landed, F'lar and F'nor dismounted, F'lar glaring at Lessa to stay put on Ramoth.  The two brothers exchanged looks with one another.

“Well,” F'nor begain, nervously looking over at the mad man.  “Do you want to go ask him if he'd like to join in our picnic or do we wait for him to invite us to the feast?”

F'lar looked at the blood stained man and rubbed his chin.  “I think it'd be better if we subdued him and brought him to Healer Hall.  I don't think he's sane.”

F'nor looked over and nodded.  “Yes I doubt he is.  Odd though.  He looks vaguely familiar to me.”

F'lar also looked over and cocked his head to the side.  Something was nagging at his conscious but it refused to come to the surface.  “Well whoever he is, we'll ask him after we've got him away from the wherries.  Got a club or something?”

F'nor produced a short club from his belt.  “Thought we might run into trouble so I came prepared.”  He looked up at his big brown dragon and nooded. “Canth says he'll back me up.”

“Luck,” F'lar said and the two brothers started towards the man in black, F'lar lagging behind F'nor as the younger half-brother approached the feasting madman.

“Hey!” F'nor shouted at the man in black once he got in position, trying to get his attention.  “Hey you there!”  There was no response.  F'nor edged closer, holding his short club low to the ground.  “Hey I want to talk to you.”  The man kept eating, tearing out large chunks of meat with hands that looked to be more like claws then anything else.  “I'm warning you, I'm armed.”  The man continued to eat as F'nor approached him from behind.  “Don't say I didn't warn you,” was F'nor's last words as he brought the club down hard on the man's head.

Or he would have had the man in black's hand not appeared grabbing hold of the club, preventing it's downward velocity from impacting.  Quicker then anything, F'nor found himself flying through the air, landing on his head with an audible thunk, being knocked out.  F'lar scrambled back as Canth roared a challenge.  The man spun around, crouching on all fours and glaring at the brown dragon charging at him.  If Lessa hadn't been watching what happened, she would've surely chalked up what happened next to some sort of wine-sickness.  As Canth got to the man, he sprung, twisting upwards and uppercutting Canth in the jaw, snapping the great brown's head back and lifting him off the ground.  And by some trick of the light, the man's entire body was, for a moment encircled by some sort of fire that traced the path of his punch.  As he landed and Canth's unconscious body landed behind him, he turned and looked at his fallen foe.  A growl escaped his lips and he turned his attention towards Less and F'lar.  F'lar had scrambled back to Mnementh and had mounted his bronze.  Turning to Lessa, he shouted at her to get back to the Weyr.  The man's eyes narrowed and he threw his head back in a scream, momentarily stopping Mnementh from lifting off himself and pausing Ramoth's height gaining flight.  Quicker then either of them could react, the man started running towards Mnementh, scabbering on all fours at time but moving quickly.  As Mnementh got a dragonlength from the ground, the man in black jumped, reaching the level of Mnementh's head with a single bound.  He landed on Mnementh's nose and used it as a springboard, sending the great bronze's head towards the ground as he ascended upwards.  He reached the level where Lessa stared at this madman who looked back her, eyes wide with madness.  Then, just to further confuse the issue, he floated over and landed lightly between Ramoth's neck ridges, staring into Lessa's eyes with something akin to an accusation in them.

There they stayed for what seemed like forever.  Then, to Lessa's astonishment, the man reached out and gently cupped the back of her head.  Leaning forward, he touch his bloody forehead to her's, closing his eyes as he did.  They stayed like that for a second before his eyes snapped open, the madness and rage that had been in them streaking out, to be replaced by tears and a great sadness.  The man lifted his head up and howled, a howl of pain and longing and suffering that drove all thought from Lessa's mind, bringing tears to her eyes as her pain, though long gone, fresh to the surface as if it had just happened.  Ramoth and Mnementh's necks reached to the sky above as they let loose a soul rendering keen of their own.  As Ramoth keened, the man in black fell from his preach, falling from between the neck ridges towards the ground below.  Lessa leaned forward, trying to catch the man before he'd be out of reach when, as he entered the shadow cast by Ramoth's wing, he vanished, leaving only confusion, the bloody wrecks, and questions as he did.

F'lar and the Benden Wingleaders appeared in the skies from between arranged smartly over northern Ruatha.  Above them, arranged smartly and professionally, were the wings of Fort Weyr.  F'lar couldn't stop the grin from spreading on his face as he observed the mass dragon wings.  Though not participating in this fight against their ancient enemy as they did at Telgar, F'lar and the other wingleaders had deemed it prudent to at least observe.  After all one couldn't have too much experience when it came to fighting Thread.

'I'd rather be fighting Thread' grumbled the great bronze Mnementh from beneath him.

F'lar simply laughed and reached out to pet the great neck. 'Next time my heart.  Next time we'll be in the thick of things just like at Nerat and Telgar.'

F'lar's wings positioned themselves in observation altitude.  Far enough away so that they wouldn't be scoured by Thread but close enough to observe the patterns being woven.  At Telgar, only 3 of the Benden dragon riders had been hurt by Thread and only one was out of action for longer then a few days.  Which wasn't bad for one under strength Weyr but that would improve as the Turns passed.  F'lar looked over his shoulder to see F'nor's Canth in proper position but his rider wasn't observing the ascending wings of dragons heading east.  His head was turned firmly to the west, at some distant star that seemed to refuse to vanish from the sky.

'Mnementh ask Canth what's got F'nor so fascinated,' F'lar asked his dragon.

Mnementh's head swivled towards his brown wingmate and he rumbled back, 'F'nor sees a star that doesn't seem to want to go away.  It also looks like it's getting closer.'

'Probably just a shooting star that's late.  It'll go away in a sec-' F'lar's thought was cut off by a cry from his half-brother.

“LOOK OUT!” came F'nor's cry as F'lar turned to look.  Mnementh was quicker in reaction as he wing slipped to the right as the supposed shooting star suddenly streaked in out of nowhere right in the space F'lar and Mnementh were.  The streak was green in color and blazed faster then any dragon could ever go.  F'lar stared at it as it ascended towards the incoming Thread, beating out the fastest dragons.  As it got to what seemed to be the thickest portion of Thread it stopped.  There it floated for a second, a spark in the middle of the gray dark thread

“AURA CRASH!” came a shout like thunder that caused some dragons to instantly drop several lengths in the air before catching themselves. Instantly the spark grew and spread wings made of what appeared to fire in the middle of thread.  Instantly the sky lit itself on fire, as if the entire firebird was dragon fire and seared the Thread from the sky.  Then it started to move, dancing in the sky, leaving a trail of fire and ash where ever it went.  The dragons and riders hung motionless in the sky as by itself, the firebird charred Thread. Mnementh suddenly went between and appeared next to T'ron's Fidranth, the Fort Weyrleader's mouth hanging open.  He looked over at F'lar in disbelief and cupped his hands over his mouth.

“WHERE WAS THIS HIDING?” T'ron shouted.

“I DON'T KNOW!” F'lar called back, the pyrotechnic show continuing.  

As the dragon riders watched, the firebird suddenly reversed direction, heading, it seemed, directly towards where F'lar and T'ron hung in the sky.  It stopped mere lengths from the two men and dragons, seemingly contemplating them.  Then the firebird extinguished itself, revealing an armor clad form in it's center.  The armor clad form was black in color, seemingly like a bit of midnight made almost flesh. Twin blades the length of an arm sprouted from each wrist, not impeding the motion of the arms at all.  Three gems were on the chest in an upside down triangle, two green and one blue, each glowing brightly in the air.  From the head, a trio of what looked like fins crowned it, over a visor that looked to be made of green glass.  As they watched, twin jets of steam escaped from vents in the helm's cheeks, almost as if whatever was inside was venting some exhaustion. The figure's visored visage bore down into the two Weyrleaders as if searching for something.  The figure then turned around in mid air, gazing up at what was left of Thread.  Moving his head around his neck, F'lar and T'ron heard audible popping, like the figure was preparing for some great physical labor. It lifted up his arms, the twin blades on both wrists switching forward to face what the hands were pointed at.  Two more blades popped from what F'lar took for decorative spikes at the elbows, lengthening to the length of a man's forearm.  The shoulder pauldrons opened up as well, revealing that they too were another double set of blades.  What was taken to be fins atop the figure's head were in fact more blades, two the length of the back of the skull but the third the entire length of the spine, snapping forward and facing the incoming Thread.  Then the points began to glow, swiftly gathering dark colored energy and increasing in size.  The armor never gave any indication of stress or fatigue as it gathered more and more power, power that raised the hair on the back of F'lar's neck.  

“SHADOW OMNI BEAM!” came the same shout as from before, only this time it was apparent that the figure in the armor was the source.  With a blast of sound, the seven energy beams exploded from the tips of the blades of the armor, shattering again and again as they raced to meet Thread.  Each second the energy beams continued their journey they split exponentially,  racing higher and higher and multiplying and multiplying.  Each beam then sought out a Thread filament, capturing each spore and stopping it in it's tracks.  The beams continued in this manner, only stopping when it was apparent that each Thread had been captured.  The figure then tensed up and sent a surge of even more energy from the tips of the blades, exploding each Thread that made the previous pyrotechnic show look mundane in compassion.  As ash rained down on the valley below, the armor's blades snapped back to their previous configuration.  The figure turned back around and stared down at F'lar.  Suddenly from behind the visor, two blue orbs flashed into existence and another jet of steam issued forth.  This steam was different as it billowed around the figure, cloaking it in white.  Suddenly, the steam was blown away as the figure surrounded itself in a ball of energy.  It then flew up, disappearing into the sky, leaving nothing but blue morning behind.

F'lar and Lessa popped from between above Fort Weyr, the mid afternoon sun gilding the great Star Stones of the ancient Weyr.  Ramoth and Mementh glided wing tip to wing tip down towards the great queens ledge.  Perching only long enough to discharge their riders, the two dragons arced away towards the sunning ledges, as the two riders made their way to council chamber.

“And it just, vanished?” Lessa asked F'lar again as they unbuckled riding helmates and shucked gloves.  “Like it didn't even want to explain itself?”

“Yes Lessa,” F'lar said for what had to have been the millionth time, “just flew up into the sky faster then even the fastest green could ever hope to fly and vanished.  I'm having a hard time even processing what happened.  I really hope T'ron doesn't expect much from us.  I didn't even know that thing existed.”

Lessa frowned. “Whatever it is, I just hope it doesn't make another appearance. Thinking that something with that much power exists on our world is mind boggling.”

F'lar nodded as they entered the council chamber, a nod to T'ron who held curtain open for them before letting it drop on F'lar's heels.  He nodded the Benden Weyrleaders to a pair of chairs next to another empty one and crossed the chamber to his own seat, Marada coming around behind them and placing a goblet each of wine and a pitcher of klah between them.  A quick squeeze of Lessa's shoulders and the Fort Weyrwoman went to take her place beside her weyrmate.  F'lar glanced around and sighed, this was probably going to be a long meeting.

“So,” T'ron began after a short moment, “what happened over Ruatha happened there's no doubt about it.  Whatever that thing was it certainly charred Thread well enough.  What I want to know is what was it?”

“I'd love to know that too T'ron,” F'lar began, rubbing the back of his head with one hand as Lessa clutched his other.  “We've never even heard a rumor that it existed nor do we have any songs about it.  But yes, it charred Thread today, that I will give you.”

“But certainly,” D'ram said, “certainly you'd know of something that could help spell out this mystery.  If something of this much power existed in your time, we wouldn't have had to come forward.”

A murmur of consent answered that that from T'kul and R'mart.

“Yes but-” F'lar attempted to answer when suddenly the entire chamber went dark.  Not dark as if the glowbaskets had suddenly all failed, but dark as if night itself had descended and replaced day.  There was a moment of frightened shouting and conflicting commands when light was returned to the chamber and where there were twelve people, there where now thirteen.

The newcomer was dressed in tight black clothing with an odd black and white symbol on the left breast.  Inside that symbol was the sign of infinity.  His hair was brown and his skin, where not crossed with old scars including a rather impressive one that began over his left eye and ended below it, was a pale white beneath a tan.  A trimmed beard and mustache completed his look, marking him for at least 25 turns old. His eyes were what F'lar would remember most besides the fact that he lounged very casually in his chair, black boots up on the table as if he was master here.  His eyes were a startlingly vivid and clear shade of blue.  And they looked old.  As if the staranger had seen more life then his appearance suggested.

T'kul rose from his chair, his hand going to his belt to draw his knife and the stranger laughed.

“Yeah that would be a bright idea if you were armed,” he said in a voice rich with amusement but still sounding young.  He causally brought up a hand, revealing that he held T'kul's belt knife in it.  “You might be needing this if you're planning on killing me.”

With a negligant toss, the knife was returned the knife to T'kul, who stared at it as if he'd never seen it before.  With another laugh, the man in black revealed his other hand, this one holding five more knives in it. “In fact y'all might be needing these back just in case.” Another causal toss followed, skittering the rest of the blades to rest, hilts pointing at their owners.

T'ron stared first at the knife then at the stranger causally lounging at his council chamber.  “Who,” T'ron began after swallowing visibly, “what are you?”

The stranger chuckled and reached over, grabbing F'lar's wine cup and taking a drink.  He wiped his lips and set the cup down before looking at the Fort Weyr leaders.

“Ahh now that,” he began, his voice losing all traces of the accent he had put on before, “that is a story worthy of one of your Songs.  Who I am and what I am are so intertwined at this point that I can't even separate them.  But I'll try my very best.”

He flexed, merely flexed his knees and assumed a cross legged position a visible foot off the chair.  “What I am wouldn't have any meaning to you people but I'll try and explain.  I am a 5000 yea-,” he paused and shook his head, “sorry 5000 Turn old time traveler.  I am a man without a home.  I am a man who's history includes tragedy and triumph worthy of one of your Songs.  That is what I am.”  He paused, roatating slowly in the air as he eyed each of them in turn.  When he got to T'kul he paused more then the rest, looking at T'kul for a second then glacing again at T'ron.  “Give it seven then.  As for who I am that's a question that I've asked myself for the past 2000 Turns. The simple answer is a name.  My name.  My name is Nick Saber and I am known throughout the cosmos as the Shadow of Time.  I just thought I'd say hello in the best way possible.”

T'ron's eyes seemed to start out of his head.  “What in shards are you talking about?”

“That pyrotechnic display over Ruatha of course,” replied Nick.  “Surely you don't think I run around at 100% of my total power for fun?  Uusually I just run around like this or at 25% but I figured I'd get your attention better in my Shadow Star Armor then in this ninja gi.”

“Ninja....what?” D'ram asked.

Nick rolled his eyes which made him flip in place.  “Oh lord you people have no idea. Forgot what I was dealing with for a second.  I'm a warrior D'ram.  A ninja is a type of warrior and where I'm from they ran around in stuff like this.  Or in orange.  Not to sure why.  The bottom line is ladies and gentlemen, I'm not here as a threat.  I'm here to help you out in times when you can't deal with everything.  Cause the way I see it...or rather,” and he chuckled again, “Foresee it, you and your people are in for some massive upheavals and changes and I always find those the most interesting.”

T'kul muttered something and gave the stranger floating above the chair a dark look. Fanna looked at the man fearfully.  “How are you doing that?” she asked, almost seeming to shrink from even addressing this stranger.

“What floating?” Nick asked back, “oh it's nothing to special.  I usually just like to walk around or lounge upside down but figured this would be a better demonstration of my powers.  I can also fly, something that was demonstrated a couple months back.”

“A couple months back?” T'ron asked, his glare going to F'lar and Lessa.

“I can assure you T'ron,” F'lar begain again, his hands raised to ward off the Fort Weyrleader's glare, “we have never seen this man before in our lives.”

“Yeah you have,” Nick said, countering F'lar as he stretched out in mid air, “I just wasn't as well groomed at the time.  And I had a chunk of wherry between my teeth.  That was a fun time in my life.”

“YOU!” Lessa shouted explosively, rising to her feat and casting one hand out to point at the floating man.  “You were the one in the field that day!  The one who threw F'nor for dragon lengths.”

“Also Shoruykened Canth if memory serves,” Nick shook his head and laughed.  “Glad to see the big brown is ok.  Didn't think I hurt him but I was quite mad you see.”

“But why?” Lessa asked, “why attack us?”

Nick rubbed the back of his head, his eyes going up as he thought.

“Well, “ he began, “I was quite mad at the time.  Not the mad you see right now though, proper mad.  Insane really.  With rage at being alive, grief at what I've lost and just found comfort in insanity.  Really I was kinda operating at instinct if I had to be honest.  Just reacting at everything.  But you pulled me out Weyrwoman and for that I am eternally grateful.”  Nick bowed his head to Lessa.

“But I didn't do anything,” Lessa protested.

“You learned your Ballads letter perfect is what you did,” Nick replied, his eyes filled with honesty for a brief second, “you learned your Ballads letter perfect and within you is a core of strength that shall never fail you.  I needed that at the time and for that, I am so grateful.”

Nick turned his head and rose to his feet, stretching his arms and shaking his shoulders. “Well I can see you need some time to process this so I'm going to leave.  But before I do, I'm going to give you all a gift.  After all, what sort of guest would I be if I didn't leave a gift?”

He reached into his shirt and drew out a shiny disk of metal about the size of a mark. Holding it up, there was some strange symbol on one side of the disk and on the other side was the sign of infinity.

“This,” he explained, “ is a Shadow Coin.  There'll be one in each of your weyrs don't ask me how I put them there you don't want to know. You'll see me out and about Pern but if you need me, really need me, take the coin and flip it.  I'll catch it before it hits the ground no matter where.  Consider this a sign of my trust in you as this is a very powerful artifact I'm trusting you with.”  He set it down on the table in the center and rose towards the ceiling.  “Until we meet again my friends, safe skies.”  As he entered an area of deeper shadow, he faded away like a ghost, leaving the council chamber, for the moment, in silence.

At the highest peak of Benden mountains, the ice and snow swirled as a spring storm moves into the region to deliver some much needed rain.  Standing on a small cliff on the south face of the mountain, Nick Saber stood, ignoring the cold and wet as he looked out over Pern.

'Such a fragile world to have been bombarded by so much cosmic stuff,' he thought, his eyes scanning the horizon.

'Ahh,' a new voice, one that echoed with the weight of centuries behind it came to his mind, 'that is their burden is it not?'

“Hello Guardian,” Nick said out loud, knowing the entity who's shadow he was could hear him, “been a long time.”

A swirl of ice and snow suddenly took shape, becoming a vaguely hooded creature standing seven feet tall.  It was a suggestion of a shape but Nick could feel the immense psychic power that was maintaining the creature's brief hold on this plane of existence.

“I do believe,” Guardian replied, “it's been about 2000 years since we last spoke.”

“Turns Guardian,” Nick replied.  “The locals call their years Turns.”

“Ahh and I guess we must respect the locals terms of time must we not?”

Nick smiled and looked out once more at the land spread before him.  Briefly, his view shifted from the mundane to the quantum, revealing the yellow stain of particles that blanketed every inch of this planet.  His viewpoint shifted back to the physical plane.

“Hard to believe,” he began, “that a particle fountain not 21 light years away from this system has been perfectly bombarding this place with chronotons for its entire existence.  Useful too when you know this planet's been attacked by some spore for a good chunk of that existence necessitating the evolution of it's native species.”

The figure turned and looked out to where Nick said and nodded.  “Yes it is a nice coincidence.  But I'm not manifesting to talk about the weather Nick. I'm here to talk about you.  You're not thinking about anything anymore.  Why?”

Nick's eyes briefly watered and the echo of ages old pain was once again seen.  He quickly dashed the tears from them and glared at his companion.

“What's there to talk about Guardian?” he accused, “I killed her.  I killed her for power.  That's that.  She's gone forever and I'm left with half a soul, half a heart, and half a mind.  What do you want to talk about my feelings?”

The figure simply stared at Nick.

“Or how about the twenty thousand souls I condemned to hell?  You want to talk about that?  Do you Guardian of Time?  Do you really want me to bear my heart and soul to you?  Do you you son of a bitch!?”

At the last, screamed from atop the highest peak in Benden Range, the ledge the Shadow stood exploded into powder.  The figure simply floated on as Nick breathed heavily in and out, floating on the space that just a second ago was solid rock.

“You've gone through so much Nick,” Guardian began, it's voice echoing through time and space, “so much pain and heartbreak.  And yet, even after that nap in the darkness, you're here.  Here and ready to do what you do best, help people.  I know it's hard, I loved her too.  But you have to find a way to live.  It's what she would've wanted.”

Nick turned back to his contemplation of the landscape, his mind going through memories of the past.  Sighing, he reached into his shirt and pulled out two gems.  One, emerald in color was the size of his fist and perfectly circular.  The other was the bluest shade of blue, a teardrop shaped sapphire.  Both shined in the moonlight though the green one occasionally had lightning dance across it's surface.

“Stars and magic. That's what I got for my wish Guardian.  And you know what?” he looked up at the wraith, “I'm trying to decide if it's worth it.  I didn't come here because of choice.  I heard a call across the universe.  That's all.  A call I had to respond to.  Damn it Guardian why did I have to kill her?  Why?”

“For that I have no answer to,” Guardian replied.  “All I can say is she used the rules of magic to give you a fighting chance at a demon lord.  And it worked.  You sent that bastard back to hell.”

“Along with twenty thousand souls.”

“That I can't say. I'm the Guardian of Time Nick, not death.  That's your job.”

Nick waved that off.

“Through out all the time I've known you, all the time you've cast yourself as my shadow, you've always proven that you've got a good heart.  Might be a bit jaded at times and a bit scared, but a good heart.  Maybe that's why she did what she did.  You're strong Nick, strong enough to endure Celestia's passing and moving on.  No matter what you do on this planet, I'm sure she'll be proud of you.”

Nick looked down at the blue gem for a moment and let his memory drift to the woman it had been.  How warm her laugh was, how sunlight brought gold highlights to her white hair, how her eyes, as blue as the gem in his hand right now, had been pools to fall in to repeatably.  More erotic memories swam to the surface and he grinned, realizing how much she had teased him.  Shaking his head he put the gems back in his shirt and fished out another one, staring at the red gem in his hand.  This one pulsed over and over, one of it's facets pulsing brighter then the rest of it.  Looking out he saw that the facet was pointed towards the southwest and he grinned.  He looked over at the wraith as he put the gem back in it's place.

“Welp,” he quipped, drawing a hood over his head and pulling up a mask to cover his face, “guess the vacation's over.  Time to get to work.”   Nick then produced a pair of red rimmed sunglasses, putting them on to complete his look.

“I suppose so.  Be well Nick.  Make your enemies fall.”

“Oh I plan on doing just that.  Cause it's time for this Shadow to rise.”

Nick surrounded himself with his ki aura and blasted off into the night, the ice wraith falling apart behind him.  As he flew towards the south, there was but one thought on his mind.

'Let's see what trouble we can make.'

And the Shadow of Time vanished into the night.

#Dragon Riders of Pern #Fanfic #OH MY GOD WHY DID I DO THIS!?

[inthechlo]

# lessa

A C C E P T I N G // send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses

                                          L E O   &&   J E S S A

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

                                                love of my life

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

                         marry you - b r u n o m a r s

- my muse’s last text to your muse

[ LEO ] :: there was a problem at work, going to be late tonight babygirl[ LEO ] :: kiss the kids goodnight for me

#meme º –– answered

[halfblood-fiend]

From the Nonsexual Acts of Intimacy list:

♧: One character playing with the other's hair

For Rylen and his bab, Lessa. Though it’s more than just playing, but whatever. FITE ME

A Thousand Years

Rylen paused from weeding and cocked his head to the side. He held his breath as he listened harder, straining his ears. Maybe he was hearing things? Unlikely, since his hearing had been one of the first bloody things to go with his age. A fact that Keram loved to remind him of. Why do you need it? It’s not like you ever listened anyway, she would say as she and the girls laughed.

But then he did hear it again.

“Daaaaad!”

He shook his head and smiled to himself.

It was Lessa. Again.

Lessa had been beside herself for a whole damn week. The nearer this day drew, the worse she got. A few nights ago, he had found her standing in the yard with her blade well after midnight, without a jacket, in the dead of Haring. When asked, she claimed that she had been trying to practice stances until she realized she had completely forgotten all her footwork. Then she proceeded to shout that she should just give up and stay home forever. That came up a lot. Whenever anything—no matter how small—went wrong: “I should just stay home!”

Rylen wanted to agree, but it wasn’t because he didn’t believe in Lessa. His girl had been fighting since she could walk and her swordplay was impeccable, techniques coming next to natural for her. He was almost jealous. Rylen knew Lessa would do fine.

It was just a matter of convincing her of that.

What in the Void could she need now? Rylen wondered as he brushed off his hands and walked into their home.

“DAD—”

“Yes, lass, I’m here. What is it?” He followed her voice into the room she shared with her younger sister, Aban, and any calm he had found in his garden withered away. The place looked startling.

Where before, the girls had marked the place as their own over the years, everything that was on Lessa’s side was now gone. The walls were blank and empty, devoid of old finger paintings and her more recent drawings. Her shelves were empty, her chest open, abandoned and bare, all her clothes shoved into saddlebags. Earlier that week, he and Keram had helped Lessa pack away all her childhood toys, her books and anything she was leaving behind. They would wait for her in trunks in their attic until she decided she wanted them again. Whenever that might be. Lessa’s bed was neatly made, a stark contrast to Aban’s on the other side of the room, as disheveled as the haphazard piles of books strewn across the floorboards.

It made his heart ache to see it like this.

Lessa spun around in her vanity chair when he entered the room, and for a long moment, Rylen could have sworn it was Keram herself sitting there. She looked impossibly similar to her mother from their Inquisition days, except for the tangled mess of curly black hair sitting between her short horns and the look of utter exasperation on her face.

He smiled despite the tightness in his chest. “Well? What now? Do you need me to show you how to polish your armor—again?”

She pointed to the rat’s nest on her head, a manic and desperate gleam in her green eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck happened!? I can’t meet them like this! I couldn’t show my face ever again! AND I CAN’T FIX IT!”

“Hey, hey..” Rylen soothed, putting his hands up as he started to hear her panic. “Calm down. It doesn’t look that bad, actually. Like a new look. Maybe you can start a trend?”

Lessa shot him a dirty glare. “Where’s Mom?”

“She and Aban went into the city.” Rylen decided he shouldn’t add that it was to get away from Lessa’s fluctuating temper.

“WHAT? But I need her! She needs to fix this!” Lessa turned back to the mirror and looked at her hair in horror. Halfheartedly she picked up a brush and tried to yank it through her hair.

—until the handle broke off with a loud snap.

With a scream of frustration, she slammed her forehead onto the vanity table while Rylen tried to stifle his laughter.

“You know,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level, “I was the one who always did your hair when you were a wee thing. I could help you if you like.”

Lessa groaned. “I’m ruined!”

“Aw, come on. You never complained about it back then! And you looked so bloody cute.”

She fixed him with another glare, but the effect was diminished by the broken brush dangling limply from her head. “I despised those pigtails you used to do.”

“Ah. So…no pigtails then?”

Throwing her hands up in the air, Lessa stared, defeated, at her own reflection. “Sure. Why not? I’m already fucked anyway, so. Ugh! I should just—”

“—stay home. Yes, I know. Just let me wash my hands and I’ll be right back. You’ll be lovelier than the Empress of Orlais herself when I’m done with you.”

He was fairly certain he heard her grunt, “Doubt it,” as he left, but he just chuckled at her. He was glad to be able to spend these last few hours with her. She was going to be happy, he told himself. More than happy, even. She was going where she belonged—everyone had known it for years—and Cassandra would take great care of her… She had promised. Rylen knew…he knew he had to let her go eventually.

He just didn’t know “eventually” would be so bloody soon. Where the fuck had the last twenty years gone? He couldn’t for the life of him remember...

Rylen’s vision swam and he bit his lip to keep it from trembling.

When he returned to her room, Lessa was still miserable, but she had managed to wrestle the brush from her hair at least. Life was about small victories, he reminded her as he picked up the head of the brush in one hand and tried to pull his fingers through her hair with the other.

Untangling her hair was slow going. He worked from the ends of her thick, shoulder-length hair and gently eased out the tangles by hand when necessary. His baby said hardly a word while she watched him in the mirror, and soon she simply closed her eyes. Lessa had inherited the tighter curls from him and when Rylen apologized for it, she just shook her head.

“I should just cut it all off like mom did,” Lessa mused.

“But then how would anyone know you’re mine?” Rylen joked as he ran the brush in his palm through the length of her hair, testing for new tangles. “And not just a clone of your mother?”

“It’s not like my sense of humor gives it away,” she muttered and Rylen chuckled at her.

“Or your stubbornness.”

Lessa grinned as Rylen finally set the brush aside and reached for the wooden box of hairpins instead. “Or my farts.”

He glanced at her in astonishment. “Really? You’re going to attack me like that while I’m doing your hair for you? That wasn’t a smart move, Lessa Adaar. You did not get my sense, that’s for sure!”

“What sense? You married a Qunari. I don’t think you have room to talk.”

“Hey! You should be thanking me for that one, lass.”

Smirking, Lessa said, “Sure. Thank you, dad, for procreating profusely because you thought the world was ending.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rylen muttered, pinning the last dangling strand of hair into place. “Cassandra is going to love you…”

When he finished, he took a little step back and admired his handiwork. It wasn’t so bad. The bun was a wee bit off center, the ends of a pin or two sticking out, but on the whole, not horrible. Better than Lessa herself was doing at any rate.

Lessa checked it in the mirror, turning her head this way and that and then beamed. She looked back at his reflection and said, “Thank you, daddy.”

Rylen squeezed her shoulders in his hands and kissed her hair. “Of course, lass. Your mum’s not the only one that can save the day.”

She blinked rapidly, her voice soft. “I know.”

He admired their reflections for another moment.

When did he get so damn old? When his hair had gone silver at the temples, when his hearing went bad, when the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes became permanent, he had never felt so bloody ancient. But now… He stared at Lessa, his little girl, a woman now sitting before him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember when that had bloody happened. Where had he been? When did she grow up? He had been holding her tiny body in his arms just yesterday, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember.

But she was grown now, as fierce and beautiful as her mother, and she was leaving him. Lessa, his baby, handpicked for the new Seekers of Truth, now to be in the closest sect to the Divine. Cassandra and Leliana had picked her out themselves. He had known they had their eye on her for ages, but he had foolishly hoped they would never take her away.

Cassandra was coming for her this afternoon.

And he hadn’t had nearly enough time with her.

“Don’t!” Lessa suddenly ordered, making Rylen jump. “Don’t you dare cry, Daddy! Because if you cry, then I’m gonna cry…” Her sentence dropped off with a sniff and she looked up at the ceiling and furiously started to fan her face. “I can’t cry! If I cry I’m going to ruin my makeup and then I’ll have to stay and fix it.”

Rylen couldn’t help himself. He pressed his fist to his mouth but it was already too late. His eyes burned and he couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. “You caught me,” he choked. “That was my plan the whole time.” He tried to laugh but it only came out as a sob.

“Daddy… I’m going to miss you so much.” Lessa stood up and threw her arms around his shoulders. Rylen, dwarfed by his little girl, buried his face into her uniform and couldn’t help the soft sobs that shook his chest.

“I’m going to miss you too, lass. You’re going to do great things.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she sniffled. “You taught me everything I know.”

“I was happy to do it.” How could he feel this way? he wondered. So warm and so broken at the same damn time? Of all the shit in his lifetime, how was this the hardest thing he had ever done? Rylen tried to get a hold of himself, trying to grit his teeth and stop his shaking, but his heart would no longer respond to him. “Just…Just promise me you’ll give Cullen a run for his money. Replace that old dog as Right Hand.”

Lessa pulled away, and Rylen saw that her cheeks were as wet as his, the charcoal around her eyes running a little. She quickly wiped at them and smiled. “Daddy, I’m going to kick Cullen’s ass.”

Rylen reached up and wiped a streak of black away. “That’s my girl.”

I had to stop there because it was TOO MUCH FOR ME. It was just gonna become a mess anyways if I kept going.

Like...I dunno what happened, both of these stories were supposed to be nice and then they’re both about crying. Wow.

Anyway likes and reblogs are love and I’m going to go hide and cry

#Knight-Captain Rylen #post-Trespasser #Dragon Age: Inquisition #post DA4 too honestly #both the babies are big kids now #DAI #Rylen #Rylen x Adaar #Rylen x Keram #older!Rylen #daddy!Rylen #look I was just thinking about the cool futures these kids would have #and then I realized #RYLEN AND KERAM WOULD BE OLD #AND THE FAMILY WOULD HAVE TO BREAK UP #shiiiit #my heart hurts tbh #and I wrote this while listening to A Thousand Years and now the song has a new meaning #Lessa Adaar #Fiend writes