#nature mourns its protector

[fridaypls]

Grove Guardian's Revenge: A Gif Analysis

Pissing him off so you don't have to.

Obligatory slowed version of The Walk to get us started. If you haven't seen it before, you're welcome.

He's so angry and so right to be angry. For a hundred years, he has defended the Grove at great personal cost. Before it was established, he saw the deaths of his friends, peers, mentor; his support circle crumbled in a single day.

Not only did his mentor fall, he had to slay his mentor's shade in the aftermath in order to lay him to rest. This is the final release canon origin for the Sorrow glaive, but the early-access version is even more heart-wrenching. Either version, the mantle of first druid / arch-druid is thrust upon his unprepared shoulders; alone and without confidantes or peers, he shouldered the load and kept going.

In his diary, we see that he thought he'd found hope of a cure for the Shadow Curse, which was what he was pursuing when the goblins captured him. "The first hope in a century" if I'm remembering correctly.

From there, he meets you - a second hope of salvation. And then... this. The ultimate betrayal and the end of the Grove, of everything he's protected for so long.

We rarely see Halsin using his size to intimidate; even when he rips Kagha a new one in the conversation about the Rite of Thorns, regardless of whether or not he throws her out.

He uses his size as threat now... as he should. He's here to kill you.

And if it's not active intimidation, then what we might be seeing here is him reining in his temper - choosing to have a conversation before acting.

He's facing Tav when he storms up; as he starts to talk, he angles himself a little away from them. We'll see that more in a second.

"I thought you'd help me. I thought we'd help eachother - instead you chose this."

Controlled calm slipping into justified anger. Again, that blink-and-you'll miss it detail of an emotion, just amazing work by Larian.

"The grove stood for generations. It was our link to Silvanus. Not, it’s nothing but blood and ashes - thanks to you."

Let's slow it down and get closer, really soak in the tiny details embedded in this scene.

Watch the first part below at half speed, watch his face twist into disgust and pain. Watch him physically turn away from you in anger and loathing. He's not looking at Tav anymore, he's seeing something else instead. Some memory of the Grove, whether a happy one or a more recent, bloodstained one, we're left to guess.

Anger turns into sorrow - he lifts his eyes in a silent prayer as he speaks, then hangs his head in heavy, tired despair. It doesn't drag his features down yet; he's still too angry under all that pain.

A tiny, miserable moment of memory and suffering....

...before sorrow turns back into anger, when he comes back to the present. That second blink of anger when he comes back to himself, out of whatever memory he was replaying in that moment. He turns back to you and rage crowds back into his face.

He's already made his choice... but he's about to give Tav a chance to speak for their actions anyway. While the role of arch-druid might have been thrust onto his unprepared shoulders unexpectedly a hundred years before, he has grown immensely since then. Despite his justified rage, he reacts wisely, seeking to understand before seeking vengeance.

Tell me… was it worth it? 

He's furious, rightfully so, but there's still a genuine question under that rage. The split-second look of curiousity before the rage takes over his features once more.

Was there a meaning to this sacrifice? Was it done for a purpose or was it all just as cruel and wanton of a betrayal as it seemed?

Even as anger and hatred take over his face once more, he gives you a chance to speak for yourself.

There are four options.

Option 1: Of course - I did what I had to do. Your grove was in the way. 

"You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? Or perhaps you simply don’t care?"

First, the genuine sadness and disbelief as he says "You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?"

Then, the anger of "Or perhaps you simply don’t care?"

Sadness and sorrow into fucking rage. Both are so poignant and beautifully done. Round of applause for Larian, god(s)damn.

The first three options all end the same way, so we'll cut right to Option 2 and save that glorious closing gif for the end.

Option 2: "I’m sorry. I had no choice." 

"There’s always a choice - but you have made yours. Now I make mine."

Look at the disgust... the way he squeezes his eyes shut as he says "There’s always a choice". He knows. He's made hard choices, at great personal cost.

The way he says it with his head down, his nostrils flared in disgust and anger, and doesn't open his eyes as he turns his head to face Tav. He doesn't open his eyes until the last instant, both saddened and repulsed by Tav and their actions.

Then, when he's looking into Tav's eyes, the anger and hatred set in again.

Let's cut to Option 3.

Option 3: "Calm down. Come sit by the fire and we can talk this over."

"There’s nothing left to be said. My mercy died when I saw the grove."

Pretty much directly into the rage with this one.

And honestly, I don't think anyone could blame him? The balls to aid in the massacre of everyone he cares about, then to hit him with "Calm down. Come sit by the fire and we can talk this over" once he confronts you and gives you a chance to explain yourself?

Nope. Game over, buddy. (Well...)

The four option is simply to attack; all four options lead to a fight to the death. The first three options all end the same way;

"You have upended nature’s balance. Only your death can restore it!"

Slower? Okay.

#the heavy crown of leaves #from hope to heartbreak #ancient anger ageless anguish #guardianship at great cost #shades of sorrow glaive #halsin hot under the collar #the weight of the mantle #bear mood bear mode #spell sling and heart sting #anger is the new black #slow walk slower burn #halsin bg3 #halsin silverbough #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate halsin #daddy halsin #halsin #echoes of the fallen grove #legacy of the emerald guardian #solitude of command #silent prayers in shadow #a century of solitude #nature mourns its protector #lost groves lost loves

[miguelhugger2099]

A Knight's Oath

Summary: You're a princess in need of a personal guard after your father's passing. Miguel from the enemy kingdom, is assigned to become a spy that kills you. Next>>

Knight!Miguel x Princess!Reader, Enemies to Lovers(?), Angst, Fluff, Not proofread, Word Count: 1,005

Like any tale as old as time, history is never clean. Freedom is never gained through peace. It is violence, a necessary one at that, in order to get what you need. Even if it means becoming the villain to some and the hero to others.

Your father was no exception. As a young king, his father had died in battle protecting the kingdom during a famine. With its citizens crying for help and other countries trying to step on their kingdom, your father had picked up a sword and began to lead a slaughter in the name of freedom. With your mother at his side, she helped on the inside, providing jobs, and a sense of community for hope and pride of their heritage. It had been a long thirteen years of bloodshed, but ultimately, the king had successfully pushed back intruders and helped bring his kingdom back to life.

In the middle of the war, you had been born–a princess–a new era of hope and peace for the land. Your people had celebrated your birth with parades, art, music and dancing, while your parents always showed you off with pride. For the next couple of years, you had been raised to be kind, resilient and humble. You were still just a baby when it had ended, so you did not know the true extent of it. You did know there was a war where other countries had looked down upon you and despite the small size of your army, you had won. You knew your father did whatever he had to do to protect the faces of the common people and the future of your life so you never faulted him for it.

Unfortunately, your father passed just before you reached adulthood. An unknown illness and went in his sleep. Everyone had mourned the terrible loss of their protector and beloved king, father and husband. Despite his actions in war, he was always incredibly kind to his people and was a great role model of a man in your life. You took pride in the fact you were his flesh and blood and that would never change. So with honor and grace, you worked hard to follow in his footsteps to be a great leader.

Others, however, did not share the same feelings. In other stories, your father was the devil himself. A cruel king that had struck anyone who had gotten in his way, caused the downfall of armies and used wicked ways to poison and torture troops to his advantage. When word of his passing had spread, many had celebrated the death of the evil king and hoped all those who lived in his kingdom perished with him.

Miguel O’Hara was one who thought the same. He hated the king that had started a war and it killed his father, hated how the aftermath of it left his mother depressed and his family starving. His homeland was in shambles because of your father and for years, he prayed for a chance to help his own country in gaining revenge.

So, for years Miguel had worked his way up in the ranks of his homelands army. A protector of his people and a way to finally fight back if another war were to break out again. He not only trained hard for his home, but to also feed his family—his mother and little brother. He often worried about them but little Gabriel was always eager to help while Miguel was away. Always a kind soul, he was.

When rumors had gone out that his king had been planning on planting a spy and an assassination on the princess of the enemy land, Miguel’s interest had been piqued. He thought to himself, without an heir, that wicked kingdom would surely fall to its knees and get what they deserve.

Naturally, Miguel had been called in for an audience with the king. He bent down on one knee and bowed his head.

“My Lord.” He greeted.

The king’s slicked back white hair practically glinted in the sunlight where its rays were seeping through the tall windows of the throne room. “Stand, soldier.” His voice boomed.

Miguel stood back up, the metal of his knight armor clanking against each other and he rested his wrist on his sword by his side. The king spoke again. “My boy, you are the finest gem in our armed forces. Your victories are endless and you make all of us here proud.”

Miguel’s face didn’t move, still as ever and it only made the king’s grin curl up even more.

“Which is why I’ve assigned you a special mission,” Miguel took a deep breath. “As the princess of Etheria’s guard.”

Now that had made Miguel’s face scrunch up in disgust. “My Lord, forgive me but–” He quickly shut his mouth when the king raised his hand.

“You will portray yourself as one of them. Eat, sleep and breathe like them and gain a position of a knight in their castle,” He explained. “There are talks of the princess needing a personal guard. Once you have gained information and the trust of those lowlife scum, you are to kill her. Once she is dead, we will invade their land and finish what they started.”

Miguel let his words seep into his thoughts. To live amongst the people he’s loathed since the beginning? It was barbaric and humiliating.

But this was his chance. A chance at revenge. He was angered when the king had died before he could even get close. Now, with the opportunity of sticking a sword in his own daughter’s heart–Miguel felt that was an even better alternative.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by his king. “Do what you must to be as convincing as possible. Care for her, protect her, admire her, kill one of our own if need be– just make sure that no one expects a thing… Especially the princess.” Miguel stood up straighter, saluting the man in front.

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Dismissed.”

A/N: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara imagine

[marsprincess889]

NAKSHATRAS AS GODDESSES

3/27

🔪KRITTIKA🔥

DISCLAIMER: This is based solely on my research and the patterns that I saw. I can't promise that I'm gonna be sure in all the coorelations, but I'm going to attribute each nakshatra a goddess that I think fits it the closest. If you're dissapointed, to make up for it, I'm going to list some other deities in the end that I think also fit the nakshatra. Don't come for me if you think I'm wrong, be respectful in the comments if you think so and have fun 🤍

This was easy and almost immidiate. The associations between this goddess and Krittika are so apparent I didn't hesitate for a second. Look out for other deities similar to her in the end.

Brigid

Pantheon: Celtic (Irish)

Name meaning: "the exalted one", "strength"

Associations: fire, spring, poetry and inspiration, healing and herbalism, smithcraft, agriculture, cattle and sheep.

Symbols: Brigid's cross, holy wells, eternal flame.

Brigid is one of the most highly- revered and widely worshipped Celtic goddesses. She'a triple goddess, representing the maiden, the mother and the crone. As a Maiden, she rules over poetry, music and ispiration. As a Mother, she's presiding over healing. As a Crone, she's the goddess of fire and smithcraft.

Frequently depicted with fiery red hair, she is no simple goddess, also ruling over waters and serenity. She's a protector of women and children, presiding over childbirth and motherhood. Also frequengly depicted with lambs and sheep (krittika's yoni animal) and swans. She's closely connected to agriculture and farm animals.

Brigid, also being connected to wells and rivers, has many landmarks in Ireland with a body of water. The most famous one is a well in Kildare, Ireland. Water from that well is said to have healing properties.

Her father was Dagda (good, great god), leader of the Irish tribe Tuatha Dé Danann ("people of goddess Danu"), which consisted of Irish deities who lived there before the ancestors of the modern Irish had arrived. Dagda was a wise man, an all-father and a Druid. Brigid married Bres, another member of that tribe and together they had three children. One of them, Ruadán, died and Brigid mourned him with profound and painful sadness. She's very devoted to protecting children and this might be a reason why.

In honor of her, there's a sacred fire lit in Kildare and is guarded by the Sisters of St. Brigid. There has been a fire in Kildare since the time Brigid was worshipped. It has been put out several times, but has been re-lit and is still burning. This suggests that the worship of Brigid has endured as she she survived and was made a Catholic saint when Christianity came to Europe.

I want to talk about why I chose her for Krittika while comparing her to very similar goddesses.

First one is the Roman Vesta. Virgins were chosen to keep the fire of vesta burning and it was said that if even one of them gave their virginity, the fire would burn out. In those instances when fire burned out by itself, the poor Vestal Virgins were to blame. Vesta is also the Roman Equivalent of the Greek Hestia, both being goddesses of the hearth, fire and home.

Krittika is the nakshatra that burns impurities through being precise and cutting away all that is not nessecary, hence a sharp object and a flame being its symbols. Bridging the signs of Aries and Taurus, it's often fiery and passionate but also feminine and nurturing.

An Indian deity ruling over Krittika is Agni_ God of fire. An Indian goddess that is coorelated to Krittika (and also Purva Phalguni) is Tripura Sundari, meaning "the most beautiful in three worlds". This three world- triple goddess coorelation is apparent to me, besides the obvious fire associations, as well as nurturing, fertility and agriculture.

In the lunar mansion of Krittika, there's a constellation called the Pleiades, often called "the seven sisters". This is another confirmation of Krittika's very feminine nature, despite also representing the birth of the cosmic man and being very fiery and passionate in general.

Some other deities that I'd coorelate with Krittika:

Hestia- another virginal goddess of fire, also associated with home and hearth

Tripura Sundari- Indian goddess, "the most beautiful in the worlds"

Vesta- Roman goddess of fire and virgins

Bel- Celtic sun and fire god, also associated with healing, thunder and purification.

That's it! I hope you enjoyed reading about Brigid. This is a very condensed post but I said pretty much everything I wanted to say. I hope you understood Brigid's energy and made the coorelation between her and Krittika. If you're Krittika, even if you're not, COMMENT, like and reblog. Love u, take care ❤🔥

#krittika #krittika nakshatra #nakshatras #vedic astrology #astrology #astrology observations #vedic astrology observations #brigid #celtic mythology #irish mythology #ireland #celtic #goddess #goddess brigid

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Masterpost ✦

Everything you need to know about the game so far! 💜

When you finally quit your dead-end job and move back to your mother's house in the ever-peaceful town of Faybourne, you think things could only get better. However, the moment you set foot in your childhood home, a harrowing nightmare long forgotten reappears to haunt you once more.

A tower that crumbles in the vastness of a bleeding sky. A voice that mourns and yearns for something.

Nothing could have prepared you for what awaited you behind that door. Nothing and no one could have warned you of the danger you would be in if you returned to that town.

You wouldn't have listened.

Torn away from your peaceful life and thrown into a world of danger and deceit, you are at the mercy of the Seven Sovereigns of Limbo, almighty gods that have sworn to be your protectors...as long as you prove yourself useful.

As the consequences of a plan set in motion long ago start to unveil, will love be the key to your freedom, or the first chapter of your downfall?

✦ THE STORY ✦

Lost in Limbo is a dark fantasy & romance visual novel taking place in the mysterious realm of Limbo. Take the role of River Winchester (full name and pronouns changeable), a human dealing with common-life problems, as you find yourself trapped in a foreign world of danger and deceit.

Try to survive and go back to your family with the help of the Seven Sovereigns, gods who rule over Limbo and have sworn to be your protectors...even if their intentions may be completely different.

Which of the Seven Sovereigns will be in charge of your life is up to fate, but whether you fall in love or in disgrace... is up to you.

✦ THE GAME ✦

✦ Lost in Limbo is rated +17 and will include mild horror, implicit and suggestive sexual scenes and discussions, sensitive topics such as toxic family relationships, anxiety, depression, depictions of alcohol / drug use, etc. Each route will have content warnings available for the player. 

✦ The game and demo will be released on itchio and then steam. Other platforms (mobile/nintendo switch) are being considered and will depend on future kickstarter stretch goals.

Keep reading to know more about the game and the choice system, the cast, the MC and the Demo release!

✦ The game WILL NEVER depict gruesome scenes such as torture, sexual assault or any kind of overly cruel violence. The game has some fighting, a few deaths, and some unsettling descriptions, though!

✦ There will be different choice systems that will give shape to your playthrough:

Trust Points centered around your Love Interest; a low level of trust can translate into Bad Endings*.

Plot-driving choices that will shape the story and its possible endings.

Personality choices that will determine the nature of the MC's relationship with the LI, as well as how the MC reacts to certain events.

Flavor choices! These don't impact the game directly, but are there for the main objective of the game: having fun!

*In Lost in Limbo, there's not only one correct answer and one wrong answer. There's different ways of earning trust points without having to stick for the "one and only right answer", and mistakes can be redeemed...sometimes.

✦ Lost in Limbo treats consensual sex as a natural, integral and positive part of the game. Every Love Interest will approach it differently based on their experiences and their preferences; the player will have the choice whether to engage or not* without being penalized.

*Amon's route is strongly centered around the sexual tension between him and the MC, and how this attraction quickly develops into a physical relationship. Sexual scenes will be more frequent than in the rest of the routes and can be skipped, but happen nonetheless.

✦ This is a LGBT+ game.

✦ THE CAST ✦

The Seven Sovereigns: Because a family of gods can be a father and his six children...with all the problems that this entails.

✦ Lost in Limbo features seven Love interests and a wide cast of secondary characters yet to be revealed. Each Love Interest is in a different stage of their lives and has a past and personality that molds their relationship with the MC into different kinds of romance.

✦ The routes will be episodic, meaning that the game will update regularly with new chapters instead of the complete routes being released all at once.

As the older sibling, Amon had plenty of time to learn how to be a god living amongst mortals, and yet, that hasn't stopped him from indulging in mundane pleasures...greatly so.

A frantic-paced and intense romance in which a physical relationship blooms into love with a great deal of hardships to overcome.

Dedicated and brave, Praefectus Raeya takes her role as Limbo's protector extremely seriously, but the truth behind the realm's darkest times will soon put her loyalty to the test.

A woman bound by duty and a romance full of yearning and mutual pining. A route centered around trust, forgiveness and finding the strenght to fix what's broken.

Pronounced [ɡaˈel]

Master of the Grand Houses, Gael is admired for his humble and altruistic persona, but a dangerous secret has kept him away from love his whole life.

A fake-marriage scenario turns into a forbidden romance for a man who has been denied affection since the day he was created.

Stripped of their name and shunned after commiting treason, the Sovereign now known as Lord Envy lives a life of solitude—if only he could get rid of his siblings.

An enemies-to-lovers romance, a betrayed heart that needs healing, and a god who constantly denies themselves from being happy.

Kind and caring, Ara is not only determined to make your time in Limbo a happy thing to remember, but also to make things go back to the way they were, no matter the cost.

A charming and playful romance and the tale of a girl who takes matters into her own hands—for better or worse.

As the youngest sibling, no one expects anything from Xal, not even himself. He is seen as a good-for-nothing and a poor excuse of a god, but you two are about to prove everyone wrong.

A first love romance about a young god who was born in the wrong side of the universe, and how someone can be the reason to try again where you once failed.

Creator of Limbo, Father Pride has to watch over the safety of his realm and the happiness of his family. However, the life of the God of Limbo can be solitary...and that solitude can lead to one's demise.

A convoluted love story about a god that can't let go, as much as he wants to. A dramatic route where the right decision is never the easiest to make.

Pride's route is the sometimes hopeless tale of an all-mighty god brought to his knees. His good ending will be "harder" to obtain than the rest of the cast. It'll be the last route being written and produced because of its weight plot-wise.

✦ THE MC ✦

River Winchester (name and pronouns changeable) quit their job and had to move back to their childhood town to live with their mother and grandmother. Old family dynamics and the dread of an unknown future await them—as well as a cryptic nightmare they have been having since they were a kid.

A past buried under years of lies must come to light sooner or later, if you are able to put together the pieces of the puzzle and live to tell the tale.

✦ River is a strong, hard-working individual who isn't afraid to jump into action. In the game, you'll be able to play River as more bold or more timid, but the core of their personality will remain. River is funny, kind and a bit too stubborn—but you choose how to manage those traits.

✦ River also has some tastes and hobbies, as well as an undying love for food.

As the development progresses, we will tell you more about the personality-choice system!

✦The MC is written as an adult who is at least 21 years old. The player can headcanon their character as any age they desire, but every route is written so the MC is of an age similar to that of the love interest*.

*Except for Father Pride.

✦ THE DEMO ✦

Will feature:

The first version of Lost in Limbo's prologue

Customizable first name, last name and pronouns of the MC (she/her, he/him, they/them) or use a default name; River Winchester.

Over ~42k words (around three hours of gameplay)

Seven CGs (one per character) + mini-CGs to enhance the experience!

Over 25 different choices (some of them timed!)

✦ DEMO RELEASE DATE: TBA*

*Being extremely positive, we are working to bring you the demo early 2024, but we don't want to make any promises we can't keep. We are only four people and sadly, we can only work on Lost in Limbo in our free time.

If you have made it this far—thank you for your time! We are sorry for the obnoxiously long post. We hope it has been useful to at least solve some questions you may have about the game. You can always ask us anything and we will reply as soon as possible! 💜

#Lost in Limbo #About the game #visual novel #otome #dating sim #interactive fiction #indiedev

[marisol124]

The Tale of the Poisoned Peach

(Origin tale for Pecharunt, specifically for my Kieranrunt AU)

In the center of a small village stood a peach tree. It was their main source of food and, to show their thanks, they showered it in their gratitude and praises.

The tree was happy to be of use to the village, but it always yearned for something more. To be loved not as a provider, but as the same as the humans in the town.

It sang it's wish day and night, hoping one day the loneliness in its heart would be cured.

The legendary Pokemon Xerneas happened to hear it’s mournful cries and stumbled upon the tree. Seeing how it gave its fruit to help those in need of it, Xerneas decided to grant it the gift of life.

The tree sprouted a giant flower, from which a special peach would grow.

This peach, engulfed by the gift, was to grow into a small human boy. He would go around, spreading gifts of love and nourishment, a protector of the living. Forever as an emissary of the giver of eternal life.

However, Xerneas’ opposite, Yveltal, had thought the boy would be an unfair advantage the other would have, throwing their natures off balance.

Angered, Yveltal doomed the tree to wither before the boy could mature, poisoning it.

The deadly substance coursed from the tree’s roots to its every branch, killing it and every fruit that was to grow.

But the peach refused to give up its life. From the fruit emerged not the boy, but the poisoned pit.

The creature was intoxicated with the malice of Yveltal’s intentions. Instead of enriched food, it gave toxic treats. Instead of giving love, it charged for it. It seeked full attention and care from everything around it, the poison in its heart never letting it feel fully loved.

Seeing their tree dead and the poison Pokemon next to it, they assumed it was the cause for their loss. They grabbed their weapons and prepared to kill it.

Trying to make peace, the Pokemon offered its mochi to the villagers. To its surprise, they all seemed to fall under its command once they had eaten it. The creature could make them love it, even if they hated it deep down.

So it selfishly used the villagers as puppets, giving it the gifts and attention it felt just.

Where the bountiful tree once grew, now sat a shrine of offerings.

#pecharunt #pokemon #kieranrunt #kieranrunt au #i fear i may have cooked #so proud of this i spent all day on it #i wanted to incorporate some of my favorite aspects of mythology #gods fighting and doing seemingly petty things to each other #i think its also a good way to explain pecharunts typing #i may be obsessed #also my first time doing serious writing

[dc-and-arfrona]

Midnight Rain

---

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 500+

Masterlist

Based of this prompt and "Midnight Rain" by Taylor Swift

------

The city was veiled in darkness as raindrops danced with the city lights, creating a mystical atmosphere. Amid the chaos and uncertainty, you found solace in the solitude of the rain-soaked streets. The rhythmic sound of rainfall provided a soundtrack to your thoughts, offering respite from the bustling world. It was on one such night that you stumbled upon a figure, shrouded in shadows yet emanating a magnetic aura.

Jason Todd, known as the Red Hood, prowled the streets like a lone wolf. A protector by night, he wore the weight of his past and the city's burdens on his shoulders. Eyes hardened by experience, he carried an air of mystery that intrigued you. Fate brought you together on that rainy night, where your paths converged beneath the canopy of midnight rain.

As you gazed upon him, a strange connection sparked between you. You found yourself captivated by his enigmatic allure. His piercing gaze met yours, momentarily stripping away the armor he wore both physically and emotionally. In that shared moment, the world fell silent, and it was just the two of you, caught in the embrace of the night.

"You're not from around here, are you?" Jason's voice broke the silence, his tone equal parts curiosity and caution.

Caught off guard, you nodded slowly. "No, I'm just passing through. Something about this city... it drew me in."

A hint of a smile played on Jason's lips. "Gotham has a way of doing that. It's a magnet for lost souls."

As the rain intensified, you found yourself taking a step closer to him, seeking shelter from the downpour. "Are you one of those lost souls?"

His gaze softened, revealing vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior. "Perhaps I am. But maybe we're all a little lost in this world."

The words hung in the air, both poignant and haunting. The rain continued to fall, enveloping you in its embrace as if nature itself conspired to bring you together.

Days turned into nights, and nights turned into a shared journey. With each encounter, your connection with Jason deepened. The rain served as a backdrop to your conversations, the cadence of the drops punctuating your words.

"Do you ever feel like the darkness is consuming you?" you asked one evening, your voice barely audible over the rainfall.

Jason sighed, his voice laced with resignation. "Sometimes, it feels like there's no escaping it. But then... then I see you, and for a moment, the darkness fades away."

Your heart swelled with both love and sadness. "Jason, we can't keep going like this. The danger, the constant battles... It's tearing us apart."

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his expression filled with regret. "I know, but I can't just walk away from this. It's who I am."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step back, the rain mingling with your sorrow. "I fell in love with you, and your devils. Even though you left, your devils stayed behind to taunt me. To become my devils."

Silence descended upon you both, heavy with the weight of a shattered love. The rain poured down, mirroring the tears that slipped from your eyes. It was as if the heavens mourned the loss.

Days turned into nights once again, but this time, you walked alone. The rain became a constant reminder of what was, of a love that had been swept away by the storm. Yet, in the depths of your heart, a flicker of hope remained, whispering that perhaps one day, love would find a way to reconcile the devils that lingered in your souls.

#dc universe #robin x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #dc imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #jason todd x you #red hood imagine

[another-heroine]

Thinking about Tishka

I suppose it's nothing new that I love birds of prey. They are one of my fav animals, side by side with wolves and felines. My father and my baby brother call me 'little owl' (what's very cute hahaha), my friends and hubby associate me with crows (what is cute too). Anyway, just babbling.

But. Let's talk about Tishka.

CW: Long Post, Animal's Death, Personal Sidequests, Empyreal Lord apparition, Hook for Witch!Ekaterina, I got carried away again

When I was creating Ekaterina, I thought about giving her an animal companion. I love this part of her class. But the more I read about the druids in Pathfinder, the more I noticed that it wouldn't be her cup of tea. Blight Druids don't bond with animals necessarily, but with the ill land, and it fits perfectly for WOTR's context.

She was a lonely child and one day found an owl's nest in the underground. Katya get quickly attached to the Mama Owl and her owlets. Especially to the odd one: the smallest of the flock. While his siblings grew up and changed feathers, he looked like was always a step back. And yet he strived.

The elders recalled restlessly about how important was to let the Nature follows its course and they should never step on. Ekaterina did that, but not without cheering for her friend to survive because she felt him. When the others owlets were learning how to fly, she made company to him.

The name 'Tishka' came to her in a dream. Actually, it was Tisemir, but Ekaterina got used to call him by the nickname. She only calls him Tisemir when she is infuriated (what's very rare).

When she left Irrisen, he found her midway to Mendev. By that time, Ekaterina had already noticed that he wasn’t an ordinary owl; Tishka could fly long ways in short time, show in her dreams, and could send and bring messages for/from her family. She thought the latter was only possible because Annya and she were druids and were able to understand animals, but barely she knew it wasn’t all.

When her biological mother struck, kidnapping Annya, Ekaterina (and the KC, in the CompanionAU!) confronts a hard moment:

"Are you willing to save your dearest mother or your stupid owl?"

Both beloved ones before her eyes, with their fates on her hands. Annya tied like a lamb, with a blade between her ribs, Tishka locked in a cold iron cage, in the aim of a deadly spell. Regardless Ekaterina's choice, she can hear his last words:

"Trust me... I'm sorry."

A suddenly darkness gouples the room, giving enough time for Annya to free herself and get barely injured, but they can't say the same for the horned owl; a sparkle and a painful shriek are enough to make the aasimar's eyes glow bewildered.

Tishka was dead. And that filth hag would pay for it.

After seizing the witch, Ekaterina mourns for her feathered best friend. When she touches his body, she is transported for another dimension and sees herself surrounded by celestial owlbears and ghostly owls. Among them, a giant, bluish horned owl with glowing eyes is staring at her.

"And we finally met," he says. "Forgive me for not contacting you in a better moment, emberchild."

"Who are you?" Ekaterina frowns with clenched fists.

"... And he told me about you. Tishka, I mean. Since then, I couldn’t take off my eyes of your deeds, emberchild. Since your foreparent is a reckless being and never came in your aid."

"Me? I am Tanagaar, the Aurulent Eye, an Empyreal Lord. I am a watcher, protector of whoelse wanders in the dark to protect their kin from evil."

The druid sttagered.

"Do you know my foreparent?"

"Yes, but trust me, it’s better you two never meet. For your good."

Ekaterina pleadges, "Please, bring him back. It was a mistake."

"Mistake you say? Emberchild, he knew what he was doing. After all, it was me who lend a sparkle of my power for Tishka saves your mother. And what's gone can’t be returned. You should know it very well."

Ekaterina drops her gaze, embarrassed. She sounded like a spoiled child, didn’t she?

"But..."

She looked at the deity again, hopeful.

"It doesn’t mean he can’t keep following you."

Among the ghostly court, an owl flies right way to the druid. She would recognize him in any life or after it. His feathers, now changing their colors between gray and brown, like it used to do when they left Irrisen and arrived at places where the sun was allowed to touch the earth, are dearly familiar.

"You feathered brain," she mocks with cracked voice. "I'm glad to see you again."

Tanagaar states, "The brighter the light, the darker the shadows. Use it in your favor, emberchild."

"What’s the catch? You wouldn’t simply let him wandering with me for free, would you?"

"Why would I not?" The Empyreal sounded concerned. "You are fighting against demons and bringing light to the darkest depths of the Abyss. When your halo falters, you can call for me and my flock. The only thing I ask for is an alliance. But you don't need to answer now. Your people needs you."

Before she could say anything, Ekaterina was back at the witch's den, with curious and worried eyes over her. Tishka's body had disapeared in thin air, yet she could feel him nearby.

All that time, the piercy eyes of an Empyreal Lord were watching her, silent, motionless. And she didn’t know how to react.

#not sure if she would become a witch (at least not in my playthrough) #but the idea of catching an empyreal's attention was interesting to work on #in-game it would give her an ability or two #or just a charmed amulet #thanks for coming to my ted talk #i need to gather all pieces yet #ekaterina grushankaya #pwotr pals

[simlit]

All of them for Zeh

If your OC were to live in some other time period, which era would they be best suited for?

contemporary; mostly for aesthetic reasons. I think he fits poorly into any other timeline.

Who is your muse’s muse? 

He takes most of his inspiration in life from his parents. He admires them for their different strengths, and tries to emulate them in a lot of ways, but feels he constantly falls short. The problem lay in that he has a very romantic idea of his parents, where his idolization of them overwrites the reality, leaving him chasing impossible goals. However, they aren’t his driving force. He doesn’t discover that until later.

What is their character theme song and why? If it has lyrics, which line best fits them?

"Sometimes, I hate the life I've made. Everything's wrong every time. Pushing on, I can't escape everything that comes my way is haunting me taking its sweet time." “Narcissistic Cannibal” - Korn

Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them?

He’s multilingual. He can speak as a dragon, as well as being fluent in elvish and the languages of men. He’s most comfortable speaking in elvish, simply because it was his main mode of communication as a child. It’s what he learned first, and obviously, it’s his tie to Yehl. Despite his disconnectedness as an adult, growing up, Zehel was entirely fixed to his mother, so it’s his natural response. Often he will answer first in Lorrainian. In moments of internal dialogue, its almost exclusively elvish. 

Do they have an accent? How do they or others think of it?

He adopted Yehl’s accent, but speaks with Taryn’s cadence. Still, his voice is recognizable as distinctly elven. He would sound native to Kehl’Lorrania, but most elven men have lighter, higher-pitched voices than do dragons. When in the northern regions, he’s visually all dragon, but is often identified by his accent alone, because its so particular. 

What is a common misconception about your OC? (Alternatively, what do people assume about them which is either incorrect or misconstrued?)

That he is kind-hearted and noble. Noble, maybe, but only circumstantially. Legends told about him often depict him as the perfect prince, graciously helping the people as if he were this bleeding heart valiantly taking on the struggle of the common man. Of course none of that is true and he really just fucking hates mankind with every fiber of his being.

What sort of role do they take on in relationships, either familial, romantic or platonic. i.e. are they a defender, protector, nurturer, etc.

He has no idea what relationships are and sucks at literally all of them, so I would say he takes on the role of the moron.

Is mental, physical, or emotional wellbeing more important to them?

I don’t think any of them? It’s more like he struggles with the concept of his own wellbeing. He doesn’t really know how to take care of himself in those capacities. He’s very one-track minded, extremely goal-oriented, and nothing matters to him outside of that. He can overlook any kind of pain when he’s focused on something. Which is obviously... destructive, on a multitude of levels. I think these are all things he still needs to learn. 

If they were to lose the person closest to them, how would they mourn them and how would they handle their grief?

My initial instinct was to say “badly”, but honestly, I don’t think that’s true. I don’t know that he’d know how to deal with his grief, but he sees death as an expected part of life. It’d be a different story if that death were untimely or unfair; if he felt that person was taken from him unnaturally. The most difficult part, for him, would be continuing on and shouldering trying to live the life that person would have wanted him to. It would just add to a long list of failings, and what progress he made on that front would probably regress. 

#jade babbles #ask game #ec: zehel na'drazuli leandelle

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Readalong. Book Two, Chapter Fourteen:

-a short transition chapter, and an unusually happy (if foreshadow-y) one

-etymology, architecture, love= cult of friendship + contemplation of nature, insignificant 16th century façades, architecture as a text, lover’s reunions.  (english translation by @sainteverge available here!!)

The Goodwin sands during a Storm Illustration by S. Sly, and an unknown engraver.

Debby arrives in France, ignoring the beauties that surround her, both because she’s too preoccupied by Pat and meeting him, but she also feels bad at enjoying the sights without having him by her side.  

She is only focused on her thoughts of him, (while Patrick was very sad of being separated, both of her and their country, he had to rapidly focus on finding a job/protectors)(noting this because it's a rare case of Borel adhering to traditional gender roles, Pat forced to live outwardly, think of securing their future, and Debby living only for love and feeling)

Borel then, taunts his readers rather cruelly i gotta say, knowing how things go... On Debbie’s arrival she hears a good omen, the singing of a nightingale*. This announces happiness forwarded by God (and this is indeed a very happy chapter for them, but,,, will it last?) The nightingale’s song also works as a key (@counterwiddershins told me the word rossignol also means skeleton key in French) to Debby’s past, the same song links their past and present, and the two Celtic countries France and Ireland.

She thinks of their Love as a cult of friendship entwined with contemplation of nature... This idea might have revolutionary echoes. Montaigne’s essay On Friendship (very influential on the Romantics, George Sand among them) takes inspiration from La Boétie’s clandestinely published essay  on Voluntary Servitude, (written, Montaigne says, “in honor of liberty against tyrants”) where he develops a civic concept of friendship-fraternity as a sign of equality between all men, and a sign of responsibility to love and help ailing brothers, and a responsibility to fight for freedom. This friendship is rooted on Nature, since all men, La Boétie says are brothers made from the same mold. When cult of friendship + nature pop up I can’t help thinking if this civic concept of friendship is behind those words, although the French Rev happened in between, so there are probably fresher references in between as well XD)

Debby tries and fails to sleep although she is exhausted from the journey (fixating on Patrick has her ignoring her instinctual responses, just like she couldn't think of/really see the landscape without knowing how he was)

The next day she arrives at the Quai du Louvre, and in seeing the gallery, which the narrator labels insignificant, (it does not live up to Pétrus’ gothic/rococo taste) she runs to it and starts counting until she reaches the convened sixth column. The building unfolds before her like a papyrus. Its walls are mute to all except to her, they carry a voice that will define her fate. She has the key to decipher the arcane writings on the building, a secret only her and her lover/co-conspirator are privy of. She finds his name and address. Falls into a quasi mystic-religious ecstasy, kissing his words/his name deliriously, almost like a praying person on the Wailing Wall. (we have spoken before about how Love and their worship of each other is a huge part of their religiousness)

She sends the footman for Patrick, tries to return to the inn but gets lost many times, so he finds him waiting for her once she arrives.

Once again they share a kiss that seems to transport them outside of time and space. Only after that, Patrick notices her mourning dress, and is saddened by it, and she in her turn notices his uniform, and realizes how much it suits him. They catch up on their respective adventures, Debby omits telling him of the trial and his being condemned to death if he ever returned (which, she should have mentioned, just in case) Pat sets her up in their new home. After which they both go to church to thank the lord, ask for his blessing and protection. It’s interesting how fast her perspective of France has already shifted. After having seen very little, and hearing Patrick’s adventures, she asks for protection for two strangers on a dissolute land... (foreshadowing...). France is no longer idealized. They spend the whole night in prayer. Their 1st night together in months.

The chapter comes to a close with a few more details on the dynamics of their domestic life: Patrick devoted to her -and the endless voluptuousness of love- any free time his work allowed him.

We hear a bit more of Fitz-Harris, who had been presented on chapter 12 as an old friend Patrick was glad to be reunited with. He is a jealous, petty sort of person, he grows cold towards Pat, since the colonel showed him appreciation and affection. He also envies his beauty, his brains, and his wife. Even the naif Patrick notices he cannot trust Fitz-Harris without reserves, since he is a mysterious chatterbox, always gossiping, always opening up to strangers and oversharing secrets in a way that seems to be against Fitz-Harris’ own interests ...

We’re done for this week, this was a short and unusually happy chapter, even if it already planted the seeds for dark things to come...

---

*do not read if you want to avoid spoilers: the symbolism of the nightingale is vast... Found on the Philomela entry on wikipedia, a greek heroine that got transformed into a nightingale after being raped and mutilated by her sister’s brother. Philomela, right before the rape, refuses to stay silent and proclaims she will get her revenge:

"Still my revenge shall take its proper time, And suit the baseness of your hellish crime."

 We shall see sadly, how this resembles (partially) Debby’s fate...

#madame putiphar #long post #text post

[rapturezoo]

CORRUPT + whoever you're feeling for this >:)

Send me One Word Vampire the Masquerade Prompts!

Hehehe I decided to go with Elizabeth Inchmouth for this one. A fair warning though, this is set further ahead than the events of the current chapter of "Land of Blood and Corpses", the fic featuring Liz. So this might have spoilers for future chapters of that.

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“You should see this as an opportunity”

The Royal Spymaster’s voice echoed throughout the cavernous expanse of the Golden Music Room, the pompous rolling of his Rs and the slithering of his silver tongue as he pronounced the letter S bounced within the confines of the coffered ceiling high above them, as he methodically, carefully positioned his teaspoon parallel to his teacup by the marble-topped side table. 

Lady Elizabeth Inchmouth was no stranger to the comforts of Gristol's Imperial Palace, nor to Lord Burrows’ looming presence. Her high standing amongst the upper circles of the aristocracy had made her presence in state dinners and soirées almost permanent, alongside the many nobles and decorated officials who made up the late Empress' court, such as the Spymaster himself and the regicidal, former Lord Protector.

But today Dunwall Tower had a different feel to it. Ever since the assassination of the Empress, the air around it felt stale and devoid of life, discomfort and stiff discipline had burrowed its way into the heart of the Empire itself. She followed the Captain of the Watch, a middle-aged, well built fellow whose name she had forgot to catch as he escorted her for her appointed audience.

Elizabeth's nerves were on edge owing to the asphyxiating ambience of the many state rooms and galleries they passed on their way to the uppermost floor, while all around her, visibly exhausted servants toiled away in all manners of menial, seemingly minor tasks. Each making sure at least thrice that things were in their right place before moving on to the next item on their lists. Things had changed, Jessamine had never been hard on the service, not like this.

This was only the latest surprise in what had turned out to be a rather eventful morning. She had wrongfully predicted slower days following the announcement of the official mourning after the previous day's events. Naturally she was quite shocked to receive a letter of summons, hand delivered by courier no less, requiring her urgent presence in the Tower. Despite her mind, and that of the entirety of the Empire's loyal subjects, still reeling from the news of the Empress' death at the hands of her very own Lord Protector and the abduction of her daughter; Elizabeth's curiosity and sense of duty persevered over her suspicions as she ordered her railcar to be prepared for the trip downtown.

How wrong she was to have stepped into the wolf's den.

A private audience with Hiram Burrows seemed reasonable. Perhaps he'd like to personally brief her on the gruesome details of the Sovereign's passing so they could be relayed to the House of Lords during the evening's resumption of legislative activities. Maybe he wanted to inquire about the Party's preference for the interim government to be elected during the upcoming vote. Whatever the reason, she was bound to find it out sooner rather than later, as the towering, bald figure clad in black kissed her gloved hand and offered her a seat in front of him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The Pendletons are already on board." Burrows explained proudly. "Delighted even! At the potential prospects my proposal holds for them and likely for you as well, should you decide to accept."

“You mean Custis and Morgan?” Elizabeth responded absentmindedly, still flabberghasted by the words coming out of the Spymaster's mouth. He spoke so nonchalantly about yesterday's events, almost as if he was completely unfazed by them.

"Tsk!" He scoffed at her response. “Well, they are the ones in control of Parliament’s largest voting block, aren’t they?” He laughed, amused at the formulated question's blatant ridiculousness. “Birthright of the eldest naturally; one you hold as well”

Elizabeth avoided the man's gaze as he uttered that last statement, one she had heard countless times before from the lips of her deceased father. She peered down into her half-empty porcelain teacup, feeling as if a pit formed in her heart as her eyes studied Jessamine Kaldwin's delicate monogram flanked by two elegant swans, she had not felt like this since her breakdown following her son's birth.

She wondered about the now orphaned heir's wellbeing, where could Attano have taken her? A child being stripped of her mother was the most cruel act her mind could imagine. Liz knew this all too well for fate too had taken her progenitor away from her. With all her strength, she wished for Corvo Attano to rot in Coldridge.

Burrows continued to babble on, hardly caring if the noblewoman had his attention. He knew were to sting, the insect. She had known that for a long time, the stories the other nobles told about him where the stuff of nightmares. Brutal interrogatories and late night break-ins; anything could be expected from a man who wields information.

No, Elizabeth did not avoid the vulture's eyes, she was not afraid of this man who openly praised and mocked her at the same time. She avoided those of the swan whose song will never be heard from again, hung right behind the official's gilded epaulettes by the chimney. The cold eyes of a younger Jessamine, forever preserved by Sokolov's fine hand and exotic pigments. They looked back at her expectantly, waiting, as Elizabeth Inchmouth took a big breath. She had made her choice.

"If you allow me, Lord Spymaster. I've already made up my mind and no amount of bootlicking can change that." She replied with a heavy sigh. "It would be dishonourable for someone in my position to just flat out hand my votes to the highest bidder. I was not raised like this."

She straightened her back as she craned her head to face the man, his expression unreadable. "Surely a man of principles like you can relate to that."

He stood up in stoic silence, remaining quietly in place for what felt like hours, studying her like a creature under a microscope.

“Indeed, my dear Lady Inchmouth.”

Lord Burrows said as he paced around, getting closer as he spoke.

“A man of principles like me only seeks what’s best for Dunwall, for the entire Empire.”

His hands intertwined behind his back as he neared her seat.

“This country needs strong leadership during these trying times.”

He circled her, like a ravenous shark in shipwrecked waters.

“The plague and this dreadful, cowardly blockade imposed on our harbours." The Spymaster stated as he stopped right in front of her. "Your interests have been struck particularly hard by these nefarious circumstances, have they not?"

Goosebumps flared on Elizabeth's skin at the mere thought of her family coffers hemorraging since the embargo was imposed. Just last week, nearly a dozen workers had to be laid off from her factories as more and more furnaces were shut down in responce to the dwindling raw materials needed to keep up production.

"And all this bickering in the House of Lords about this so-called succession crisis, a preposterous display of petty politics!" Burrows continued, as he resumed his incessant pacing around the room. "When the State's efforts should be directed toward purging this disease from the streets of our great city."

"Oh, I agree." Elizabeth replied as she lay her teacup by the coffee table in front of her, relieved to see the man starting to move away from her.

"See? We stand in common ground on this." Proclaimed triumphantly the Lord Spymaster, as he marched onwards, deliberately avoiding to step on the gilded stitching on the rug underneath his shiny boots.

“Everything's been set in motion for me to take the burden of the Regency on my shoulders." He gestured in emphasis. "It is a sacrifice I, for one, feel compelled to make. To bring order to our grieving nation."

He stopped in front of the fireplace, placing his hand atop the mantel as if struck by a sudden, inexplicable sadness. Mere theatre. Elizabeth knew better. Hiram Burrows is not a creature subjected to the whims of human emotions.

“That is, until the missing young Lady Emily is found, naturally”

Burrows dug into the confines of his heavy court livery, the high collared black jacket assigned to the position everyone came to know and fear. He produced a cigar out of its inner pockets, lighting it with a heavy, gold lighter as he stared at the Sokolov portrait hung above his bald head, silently assuring himself that he'd have to do something about that painting in the future.

"Our predicament is that we are still missing a few crucial votes for today's vote on who should lead the Regency during the absence of the Heir to the Throne."

He inhaled.

“Yours would be greatly appreciated.”

He exhaled, leaving a noxious cloud of smoke lingering in the space between him and the carved stonework of the fireplace.

“And handsomely rewarded.”

This left Elizabeth quiet for a few seconds, as she fidgeting with her family's signet ring, feeling it strange her little finger.

She remained quiet for a few seconds, fidgeting with her family’s signet ring, feeling it strangle her little finger.

"Your influence is of great value in the Party, an intelligent choice on your part could swing the vote in our favour." Burrows elaborated further, sweeping his index finger across the marble mantle afront him, looking for even the slightest trace of dust. "Say, old Lord Estermont is quite fond of you, isn't he?"

“Sir, I..." She stuttered, dumbstruck by the question. "Look Hiram, I understand you have the best of intentions but this neither the place nor the proper channel to make a compelling argument..." She gulped before continuing, feeling the room grow tense as she continued.

"I'd gladly hear your case in the Chamber later today, but this? It goes against every principle my family has stood for these past few centuries. What would the opposition say if..."

The man cracked his knuckles, loudly, bringing her argument to a halt as he turned to face her with a menacing look in his eyes.

“As you wish, Elizabeth, but I’d be remiss to remind you to see this as an opportunity.” He replied, taking a step forward.

“Times are bound to get harder,” Burrows recited as each of his methodically calculated steps brought him closer once again to her armchair “It would be a shame for someone in your position to have me as an opponent.”

“My position?” She questioned, her voice slightly cracked, caught off-guard by the Spymaster’s response.

“Oh yes!” The man countered as he stopped inches from her, looking down upon the noblewoman. “The sudden death of your husband all those years ago has surely put you in a vulnerable situation, hasn’t it?” He said with a leering smirk.

He knows. After all, Hiram Burrows knows everything.

The implications of his words immediately sunk in as her face contorted into a panicked grimace. Her chest felt suddenly constrained as her heart raced. Elizabeth stood up rapidly, shoving the towering figure away as she scrambled toward one of the windows.

“I think…” She said quivering as she fumbled with the locks. “I just need some fresh air.”

“Good.” The man said, dusting off his uniform's jacket, hoping to rid it of any microscopic trace his guest might have left as she touched him. “I’m glad we’ve managed to come to an understanding.”

“Surely your colleagues will understand as well.” Lord Burrows scoffed, amused by the meeting's results. “Make sure to write to them once you get home. I'd hurry if I were you.”

He sat down, lifting the tails of his coat before doing so, as he grabbed a silver handbell. A smartly dressed servant rapidly entered the room after a single ring, approaching the Spymaster in quick, short steps.

Elizabeth turned to face the unfolding scene as tears streamed down her face like the torrential downpours of the Month of Wind.

“Yes, Your Excellency?” The domestic inquired in a quiet, almost hushed tone.

“Fetch Her Ladyship's railcar at once!” The Spymaster barked back “She’s just leaving.”

#dishonored #dishonored oc #hiram burrows #morgan pendleton #custis pendleton #i guess?? #elizabeth inchmouth #my writing #my ocs #tysm for sending this!! I had been toying with this idea for a while and it inspired me to finally get it done

[fem-blade-adept]

Short story. My Season of Defiance addition to Sera’s story and, since Season of the Deep is tomorrow, it couldn’t come a moment too soon. @ebevkisk

Standing Ground

It had been a week after Amanda’s funeral. Since everyone had moved into the tower, it was busier than ever, but the air was thick with a somber note of mourning. Even the farm out in the EDZ felt reverberations of the loss of one of the Last City’s greatest heroes.

Misraaks and Caiatl had taken to rallying their respective races and the remaining Vanguard continued monitoring their blockade that defended the city’s limits, but Sera had not left the Farm since the last mission to destroy Calus’s command ship. She felt numb. Amanda and her had been best friends ever since Sera had woken up outside the Cosmodrome and, even now, the sting of loss kept prompting more and more tears.

So many lost. And it still felt like it wasn’t over.

An Awoken guard walked over from the square. “Miss, the Queen has requested your appearance.”

Sera shook herself out of the trance she was in. “Uh, yes, thank you.” Sera wiped her eyes and brushed the moisture onto her newish outfit. Apparently, it was hers and had been kept for all these years. Sera had requested it in pink before she left for Neomuna and now it just felt out of place.

Sera stood up and started to walk over to the Queen, who continued to channel her magic into ferrying fireteams through rifts to rescue more of the hostages. As Sera approached, the Queen turned and gave her a hug. “I know loss very well, my child. Especially the loss of those close to us.”

Sera felt the tears again and fell into Mara’s arms. “It just never gets any easier. We’ve lost a lot of people. I just keep wondering if there’s ever more I can do.”

Mara gripped her tight. “There always is, but to think we are perfect is folly. Do not blame yourself. Life happens at its own pace. Are you sure you can do this today?”

Sera left the hug and nodded. “You know my commitment. We need to show people that we will not be broken by this. That we are stronger. Just because we’ve lost so many doesn’t mean we’ll break. I’ve woven the fabric of reality itself and I will do whatever it takes.”

Mara nodded. Behind them both, a transmat effect was heard and Ikora stepped behind them. “Sera, you’re going to do fine.”

Mara regarded her with her same stoic nature. “You do not mind that I conscript one of your warlocks?”

Ikora smiled gently. “She is not mine to give. She makes her own choices. Being one of my warlocks as well as your Mercy can maybe start to repair the rift between the City and the Awoken.”

Sera smiled and, as the inhabitants of the Farm gathered to witness the ceremony, she knelt down and felt the Queen’s magic wash over her.

“Seraphina, by the power and authority which I hold as the Queen of the Awoken people, I empower you with the strength and the ability to be a protector and the head diplomat among us. With this authority, you will be a shining example and a devastating weapon against those who would bring destruction against you, your kingdom and your allies. You held this same position before and your decision to return and continue to lead and press onward is a boon to you and those you serve. Now, rise and lead as the Queen’s Mercy.”

Seraphina rose and, with thunderous applause from the farm and all of those watching over the feeds, she bowed and felt a surge of emotion. Witness, be ready because I will drive you back into the void from which you came.

#destiny 2 #season of defiance #seraphina

[blood-starved-beast]

what are your thoughts on zethrid and acxa being foils in the sense that zethrid was raised more within galran society since childhood while acxa wasnt? logically speaking i dont rly see the likeliness of that but it is interesting to think abt imo 🤔 its entirely possible that zethrid was also "born and bred in war" but sort of grew from it in a different way than acxa did? similar situations couldve let to their relationship/friendship/anything but ultimately different ideologies caused a rift

i sort of wonder where ezor fits into all of this but i cant rly think of anything for her 😭

They're foils yes.

We see from early on that Zethrid and Acxa have an antagonistic relationship. This is initially cause Zethrid and Acxa have contrasting philosophies: Zethrid is all about getting what she wants immediately and fuck everything in her path she is going to get it. Acxa works behind the scenes, plans things long term, gathers intel, and acts accordingly. In the wormhole tech piece mission, Acxa was constantly telling Zethrid to back down from destroying things, to stick to the plan

This is a reoccurring argument between them, and this conflict presents itself in various times later on in the form of Acxa's opposition to Zethrid's plan to carve out their own territory in space. There is Acxa's infiltration and the explosion in Zethzor's ship, after she abandoned them to find her own path, and it boils over the Grudge. It's clear this contrast between them is something the writers had in mind and there's a sense it was always going to end up like this.

So when Acxa tries to bridge a gap between her and Zethrid, it's interest that what connects them is how they both suffer from the same anger and resent from being discriminated against.

So they share that backstory. But unlike Acxa, I don't get the sense that Zethrid is very introspective about her experiences. Zethrid is deeply galra. Her plan to carve out a space for themselves speaks to a very galran mindset. Acxa connects to her through their shared discrimination, but beyond that I don't think Zethrid knows or cares about her heritage.

Interestingly enough, I believe Zethrid might descend from Kythran desert people, who as we see with Te-Osh, have very similar appearance to Zethrid in some ways.

The Kythran people claim to be neutral with regards to the Galran Empire, or at least told Pidge that. If Zethrid is half-Kythran desert tribe, then her experience with her non-Galran side is likely less complicated then Acxa's. That, however, doesn't detract from the discrimination she received from full-blooded Galra, and probably is why she isn't as invested in Empire reform the same way Acxa is.

Still, Zethrid is still very Galra, which if she wasn't rejected by her non-Galran side, speaks to her likely being raised by her Galran parent, if only to explain that experience. Which, given the Galra, likely raised in the military setting that led her to become the soldier we know. I don't think she grew up in a war zone either way, but was immersed in war culture none-the-less. This is why she doesn't see any other option than to become a warlord herself - that's the only way the Galra become strong and protect their own in her eyes. Maybe something happened to her possibly Kythran parent? And perhaps she sees it as a weakness of their blood, thus why she values strength so strong. Zethrid is very protective of Ezor, and assumes the role of the protector in their relationship as well.

Ezor is the "mediator/middle ground" of the group. She's the most empathetic of the team*, when she makes a blind joke she automatically apologizes to her, cause she's conscientious of Narti's feelings. She clocks that Acxa has something going on with Keith, cause unlike her Acxa is not very empathetic by nature, she needed a whole ass arc to realize that people have the capacity to change etc. Ezor was the one to point out to Acxa how dangerous Lotor is, the one to mourn Narti most overtly after Lotor killed her etc. She obviously is not a perfect mediator (she enjoys violence and cruelty too much to be effective at it) but still.

While Acxa and Zethrid are both spitfires in opposite directions (or more accurately, Acxa burns like how touching something very very cold burns), Ezor doesn't have the same level of ambition as either Zethrid or Acxa. She's Acxa's friend, Zethrid's wife, a part of their shared family. When she's out of the picture, the whole thing falls apart.

That being said - Ezor's backstory. Ezor develops a strong and present fear of Lotor after he raves about killing the Galra. I say that moment specifically is the key of the change, cause while she disliked him before for Narti, she willingly teams up with him to escape Honerva, even for a moment. She, out of all the generals, picks out that Lotor is dangerous, points it out to Acxa. She fears Lotor's return, even though she herself is now a warlord and could probably take him easily now, Sincline aside. After Acxa and Keith bomb them, she is the first to leave that life, further suggesting that being a Warlord for her doesn't provide in her eyes, the security she craves. Even then, we know she delights in punishment and torment, and it makes her feel better about her own fears, like a bully. This suggests that Ezor grew up in an environment where fear was rampant, and I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that she, like many bullies, was terrorized by the galra growing up.

She is least Galra-passing of all the generals: it's possible she's less than half galra, but Galran enough to use the tech. I headcanon she was raised non-Galran, hence why she's more empathetic than the rest of team Sincline, but her trauma made her vindicative. She craves security, and knowing the Galra have power, is likely why she teams up with Lotor initially, and goes along with Zethrid's plan. Acxa, who is assertive in her own right, was another option, and why she listened to her after they left Lotor, and after she left Zethrid. Her empathy led her to change on her own in a way that took longer for Acxa, and was difficult for it to click for Zethrid.

This is a long way to say - I think Zethrid grew up in Galran culture in a similar but different experience from Acxa. Whereas I headcanon Acxa to have a bad relationship with her non-Galran side, leading to her rejecting it, Zethrid has at best neutral relationship with it. She wasn't raised in the culture, but amongst Galra, leading to a very Galran mindset and point-of-view. I believe their shared experience of being rejected by the Galra led them to become close - or close as their anger would let them - and respect for each strength allowed them to work together, but their respective ideologies caused friction between them. Zethrid seems to like aggressive smaller women (Ezor, even Allura in that one scene), so I can see her being drawn to Acxa in a way. Ezor is more Zethrid's type, being someone Zethrid can protect, which is something that is nearly impossible to do with Acxa (like Keith, Acxa is unhinged about her plans and will stop at nothing to complete them). Ezor, with her empathy, is able to mediate both personalities but her trauma made it so she sought someone who was strong and she could feel safe around.

*which makes her cruel side all the more apparent see: when she tries to blow up Keith and Krolia with the Sincline ship in s6.

#d asks #Anonymous #Zethrid #Acxa #Ezor #Vlds three stooges #vld #my meta #I wonder in Zethrid's perfect world if Acxa would have joined her pirate crew and they all would be doing pirate things together #Zethrid seems to respect Acxa enough to let her go do her own things but the moment Ezor leaves she loses it and then gets at Keith #cause getting at Acxa is hard but even then she doesn't make an effort to destroy her the same way she did with Keith in the Grudge #And she still targets Shiro instead of Acxa there cause she can't make herself hurt Acxa - cause Acxa values herself less than her ideals #so she goes after Acxa's ideology of which Keith Shiro and the Coalition and Voltron represent

[leatherforhell]

at first — the grief is consuming. when the news reaches him of clara kelly’s death, peter does the one thing that he does best when he really puts his mind to it : he makes people bleed. he stalks, he hunts, he flies through the streets until he finds the person responsible. he doesn’t kill them, but he ensures that it hurts like hell when he leaves them webbed up and upside down for the authorities. 

for a long while, he blames the city for failing to protect her after all she had done for it. he knows she wouldn’t want that, but peter can’t help it. in his mind, gotham had one job and it had been to protect her. it had failed. peter had noticed the change, the way the streetlights were dimmer, how power outages ravaged every nook and cranny of the city. in a way, it was as if the city itself was mourning her, propelling gotham’s citizens into a period of darkness, forcing them all to don black umbrellas to get through the heavy rain.

it was not lost on him that those clara had favored most, the heroes, the vigilantes, those who kept the library open late and ran homeless shelters, never had a single lightbulb go out. if it was penance of some kind, he found that he did not want it. he just wanted his friend back. 

peter blames himself more than he blames the city. he wonders how many times he’d passed by her killer on the street, how many times he’d been too busy with other criminals to put a stop to the one that would one day kill someone he cared for. he’d made so many promises that he would never let another friend die, but when it mattered most, he never could keep it. 

❝ hey, clara. long time no see. i know, i promised i’d come by yesterday but well … you know how it is … spider-time. ❞ she had never been a person of many possessions, never allowed herself the luxury to set down roots somewhere. a gravestone hadn’t felt right. so, peter had taken it upon himself to plant her some roots himself.

he’d set up a community garden in an old abandoned warehouse, getting a grant from the city to refurbish it into a greenhouse. it’d taken weeks of work and endless hours of convincing the city government but eventually, it had become a place where anyone could harvest the fruits and vegetables that were grown. it’d created a sense of community in the neighboring areas and a few of the local schools had even started up gardening clubs where they helped tend to the crops. 

at the center of the garden was a massive oak tree, its branches sprawling and tall, the leaves always in the sunshine. the tree had been moved from its original home. it had been marked for removal and peter, who had been swinging by just before men took a chainsaw to it, begged them to let him relocate it. they hadn’t understood why, to them it was just a tree. to peter, it was a tree that had grown behind a theater home to a hidden lab deep within. it had been a miracle, a true testament of nature’s ability to grow in even the most destructive of conditions. 

it was a metaphor of his friend who he could never see again.

the workers, seeing that the vigilante cared far more about the tree than they did, relented. peter had it placed in the center of the greenhouse and a small plaque inserted in the base:

for clara kelly, gotham’s protector and beloved friend.

peter perches on one of the branches, the moonlight streaming in, he liked to believe that, wherever she was, maybe she could still hear him. 

❝ i did a ton of stuff in east end tonight. real friendly neighborhood type stuff. stopping grand theft bicycles and helping one person get her pet crow down from a streetlamp. you heard me right, a pet crow. i even helped repair a blackout, feel free to add electrician to my growing resume. ❞ he smiles sadly, ❝ you’d have had a blast if you were there. ❞ peter sighs and hops down, god he wishes she was still here. ❝ i miss you. ❞

he presses his hand flat against the trunk and for just a second, gotham’s heart beats within.

this is the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me and I am going to get you back istg

#I REGRET MY CHOICES. I REGRET #EXCEPT I DONT BC HOLY SHIT WHAT GOOD FUCKING WRITING #answered. #meme response. #wallcrawld #death tw #grief tw

[robertdowneyhiddlesbatch]

Call Me By Your Name {1/2}

Summary: Khan’s bio forensic scientist wakes up when the ship lands on Ceti Alpha V

As per his original wishes, Khan Noonien Singh and the rest of his augment species were delivered to planet Ceti Alpha V. However, for his crimes against the Federation, Khan was placed into a cryogenic pod as well.

Botany Bay 2.0, a long range science vessel containing 73 cryogenic pods landed on the deserted lands of Ceti Alpha V. Upon landing, the ship sent out tiny droids to take bio data scans of the new planet. As the droids were returning to the ship, a tiny rodent copped a ride on a passing bot and got inside the ship. Once it realized it was the stuck, the rodent began scratching and gnawing at anything to try and find a way out. In its escape attempt, the rodent caused one of the pods to malfunction, awakening the augment inside.

The Indian woman woke up with a chill and cold dew on her person. Once she blinked away the grogginess, she wiped her hands over her face to clear off the water. She lightly pushed at the glass screen above her and the lid shifted off with a hiss. The augment stood out of her pod and turned to look at the thing that had confined her for however long. Her name was on a corner: Aadhya Gupta.

Aadhya moved away from her pod and began tasks as they naturally came to her. Her first thought was to look at the recordings to see what she had missed. That's when she saw that there was a contraband amongst them. She smiled and decided to go look for the rodent.

In her hunt, she happened to pass by what was a kitchen. Augments didn't really rely on meals and drinks like regular humans, but she was rather famished since awakening after an amount of time still unknown to her. She'd have to find out once she caught the rodent before it damaged anything else.

Aadhya took a bit of food with her to entice the rodent out. She caught it scraping against the droid ejector, no doubt the way it had come in.

"Tsk tsk tsk!" Aadhya pitied. "Did the door close on you? Well, you're just going to have to find a way to open it, my little chuiya," she cooed at it. She put down a trail of food crumbs for it and began walking to a door. She pressed a button and it opened, allowing her to walk out of the room they were in. She closed the door before the mouse could run by and waited for the scratching to stop. Aadhya then came back in, gave it food, then pressed the button and went through the door again.

It happened more than a few times until Aadhya didn't hear scratching upon her exit. Instead, as she waited in the other end, the video monitor showed her the rodent running up the wall to press the button. The door opened and the mouse jumped out, and Aadhya caught it in her hand, rewarding it with food.

"That's like a good chuiya!" She stroked its head and took it with her as she went to the bridge to finally get the records.

72 of the augments had been in cryogenic for more than two centuries. Aadhya recalled there being 85 of them on Botany Bay, but counted only 73 pods around her, including her own. One pod, however, was a recently frozen individual. Aadhya noted the pod number and went searching for it.

She found the pod at the back of the rows of her sleeping family. Aadhya looked through the glass and saw a face she didn't recognize. How dare an outsider join their ranks!? She bent to read the name of the sleeper and immediately regretted her words.

It was Khan! Her Khan. Their leader.

The last time she had seen him, Noonien Singh looked like her. But the man sleeping in the frozen coffin was not the Khan she knew. Aadhya stood up and went to the wall to use the computer to find out his story.

Of course.

Of course he had built the best systems. He was Khan. Of course he had fought to defend the augments from his captor; his abuser. He was their Khan. Aadhya mourned his stolen identity, but they could never take from him his soul.

Khan was a ruler; a protector, a sovereign of the people. And he was that before he was Khan.

She was petting the rat for bringing her seeds and all. She had trained it, and was observing how the rat survived in the terrain. It could teach her how to survive the big world by being small, but all they saw was it being food. The bully boys called her dirt and other degrading names, and demanded she give the rat to them, twisting her arm to make her do it. She didn't see the rat, or anything else, as the smoke exploded.

They all woke up in a building with facilities beyond their imagination. She stayed quiet and made herself appear small, so no one would look at her more than necessary. They gave the children something from every corner of life. Some people excelled physically, others were scholars or other experts of society. She classified as a biological scientist. She could revive extinct organisms from fossils or she could develop new organic material. She could save, or she could annihilate.

She first met Noonien in the training room. She was sitting by the window, petting her potted plant as she faced it in the sunlight. A bully had found her again, knocking the pot out from her hand. The dirt spilled as the pot fell, but the plant curled up on itself. The bully laughed and bent to pick up the plant she looked down upon, but a cane got in her way.

"Don't touch it," the cripple warned her, indifferent. The bully glared at him. "Make me," she said spitefully, and grabbed the plant by the stem. As she touched it, thorns shot out of the stem and the bully recoiled, holding her injured hand by the wrist as painful poison turned her hand purple. The bully ran away as the purple strain crept up her arm, threatening to spread to her heart. The augment got a sword off a wall in the training room and hacked her own arm off.

Onlookers were surprised by having witnessed the rat girl defeat one of the leader potential augments. The bully from the street was there too. "The chuiya beat the sherni!" He said, meaning the girl mouse had defeated the lioness.

Chuiya didn't speak often, but she developed a sort of symbiotic relationship with the cripple. Noonien defended her against the street bully, and had eventually killed him. Chuiya had a hand in developing his new leg.

She told him the secrets of their handlers, being one of the first to discover the chips in their systems. Noonien had given her the name Aadhya, a powerful name for one who was so close to the earth. He had eventually tasked her with developing a way to take out the chips without the handlers knowing.

When it was time for them to head into the stars, she was Khan's priority. She could find a way to sustain life wherever they ended up.

They would survive.

#khan noonien singh #John harrison #Star Trek #star trek into darkness #ceti alpha v #benedict cumberbatch

[softness-and-shattering]

Purim Gifts 2024 fic exchange letter -

Generally, 

DNW anything to do with harry potter, or a tragedy, everyone dies, oppression sucks, and life is awful vibe. No intense bigotry or invalidating someone's identity. Nothing super nasty. Im mostly looking for lighthearted fluff, fun, mischief, and good feelings. Im not averse to tension, action, mystery, smut etc. as long as its overall upbeat and hopeful. Approximately kids media level villainy. Bonus points for queerness and or disability (If youre wondering what counts, whatever you think does. Im very inclusionist). Mostly looking for various celebrations of Purim or Jewishness.

Fandom specific vibes, for your perusal: Edit: Ran out of steam so do what you want. :) The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi Id love to see more of the Jewish boyfriend tbh, but also the whole crew is just fantastic.  A League of Their Own (TV 2022) There's just so much missed opportunity that the only canon Jew is Shirley. Shaw should be Jewish. Greta could be. Esti. They could have cute Jewish lesbian bonding over Shabbos candles or something. Getting everyone involved in a gift exchange. Going in drag to the gay bar. Finding a Megilla reading that doesnt coincide with a game. Anything with Bertie. Theres so much potential.  Alex Stern - Leigh Bardugo This one might be more angsty. I just desperately want more Alex and her relationship to her Judaism. Did it hurt to pawn that kiddish cup? What was her grandmothers house like, what food did it smell of? Does she sing herself Ladino lullabies? Does she observe in any way on her own? (Also that chai necklace burning up in hell — I have to know how the magic realism intersects with Jewishness). Something sweet with her friends or fellow Lethe people is cool too, maybe something to do with the artifacts in El Bastone. Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson Im thinking Mistborn might mesh best but honestly go wild. Stormlight is probably my favourite, Rysn and Chiri-Chiri, Navani and Raboniel, Shallan, the trans king from the walking island. Marasi and Steris my autistic blorbos. Maybe something weird with Kelsier. Critical Role (Web Series) Im thinking Jester and Nott and pastries and mischief. Im not super caught up on campaign 3 Im up to Bassuras, Ive seen most of two and a good bit of one and would prefer no major spoilers. There's no character that I really dont like (unless im supposed to dislike them TRENT IKITHON). “I hope you find someone to mourn you when you’re gone”. Woof.  Probably mighty nein are my favourite but I also have big feelings about Ashton and chronic pain, Percy, Vax, Vex, Kiki, Gilmore. Mollymauk. I hope this is useful information lol. 

Dead End: Paranormal Park (Cartoon) Supernatural elements please

Emelan - Tamora Pierce

Lady Astronaut of Mars series - Mary Robinette Kowal  Purim in spaaaaace

One Piece  Pirate Jews, or an island of Jews please. Pokemon Pokemon involved in mishloah manot please!

Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce Kel is just my favourite. The Strange Case of Starship Iris (Podcast) Brian Jeeter. Trans space Jew Brian Jeeter. The Locked Tomb pretty much anything tbh. This one also I expect a slightly higher angst level just by nature of the story. As long as there's also sweetness.

Tortall - Tamora Pierce 

Wayfarers Series - Becky Chambers  Jews on the human fleet. Ai Jews? lots of fun opportunities.

When the Angels Left the Old Country - Sacha Lamb 

Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski  / The Witcher (TV) Its Polish. Its vaguely medieval europe fantasy. There should be Jews. and Jewish food. 

#purimgifts #purimgifts: 2024 #mine

[taros]

(Going through everyone's stuff will...not be ENTIRELY possible due to some things I chose during character creation, but I'll just start writing and we'll see where it goes.)

The cabin is small, with a a decent sized front room area that can just fit the four of you and a small room that looks like an indoor outhouse. You all settle in, making areas to rest. After having a meal, Lys stands to get everyone's attention, "Alright, whose taking first watch?"

You start to volunteer, but Clarette interrupts, "I'll do it for the night." You question when she'll sleep. "I won't." Nuolan tells her she needs to rest. "I don't. I don't sleep. I can just sit with a book and keep an ear out."

"Weird, but okay." Lys goes to a corner of the room and sits in a meditative position. "Goodnight, everyone." She takes deep slow breaths as she falls into a trance, something only elves and some half elves can do. It only takes 4 hours to rest instead of 8, which is great for time management, but sleep feels so much better.

As a noble with Elven blood, it's considered a show of wealth and prosperity to choose to sleep instead of trance, but trancing is more time efficient, which do you as a half elf choose?

You lay down, tired physically but not enough mentally to relax. You look around. Nuolan is laying with an arm across his face, covering his eyes as he starts to snore. Lys' eyes are closed, and she seems deep in a relaxed state, but you know trancing leaves you semi-conscious. Clarette took her bag and went outside to stand watch. You lay there for a few moments, then look over to Nuolan's bag. He left it off to the side a few feet away from where he decided to sleep. The temptation builds as you watch him, fast asleep. Slowly, making sure not to wake him, you carefully grab it and move to the small room. Looking inside, you find the expected: Rations, rope, mess kit, hunting trap, weird claw you can't quite identify, etc.

Looking in an inner pocket, you find what looks to be an old beat up journal and a worn but well maintained scrapbook. Thumbing through the journal, you need to quietly cast comprehend languages to understand what's written. The book is filled with passages about feeling isolated, hurt, and questioning the elders around him. A younger Nuolan wrote about not understanding why he had to be where he was, being seen the way he was seen.

'They say that we're born dead, but I live and I breath. I feel. How can you feel if you're dead? How can my heart beat if I'm dead? They treat us like all we are to them is protection, but they don't treat us like protectors. I'm not theirs! I'm me! I'M MINE! I EXIST TO EXIST! I'm not dead!'

'Again, they question me about where my head is at. They wouldn't listen if I told them. They'd probably kill me if I tried. To be honest, a silver blade to the throat doesn't sound too bad these day.'

'I think I'm ready. Whatever happens, happens. I'll either die or leave. Another day here would be a fate worse than death.'

Going through the scrapbook, it's filled with bad to okay-ish doodles of what you assume he's seen on his travels, dried flowers and plants, some you don't recognise, and a lot of poems. The poems start out rather grim, with themes of death, mourning, and isolation, but slowly they get gentler. The most recent ones seem to be inspired by nature and music. You assume that's what he was doing when you first met, as the last one looks unfinished.

You look around in his bag again, but don't find anything of note. You do your best to put everything back the way you found it before setting his bag back in its place. You look over to Lys' area, her stuff next to her. You try to stealthily go over to see what you can, but once you're about 3 feet away, one of her eyes opens and looks at you. "Stealing from me would end badly for you," she says before closing her eye again. You weren't going to steal, but whatever. You go sit on your bedroll, unsure of what to do now. If you really tried maybe you could force yourself to rest, but you're not in the mood to try.

Getting up, you go outside. At first you don't see Clarette, then you realize that's because she changed colors. Sitting up against the wall, her upper body is the same grey color as the wood of the cabin, while her lower half is dark green like the grass. "Try to steal from me and I wont hesitate to summon a demon to tear you to shreds." She doesn't look up from her book. When you ask her what she's reading, she holds it up so you can read the cover. Folklore of the World and Their Origins. You walk away as it seems she's ignoring you. Looking up at the stars, you appreciate how beautiful the sky can be when there are no lanterns to cloud it. You go back to the horses and spend a few hours on your own, thinking. Not about anything in particular, just letting the thoughts flow. Eventually, you go back inside to rest.

In the morning, notably the worst time of the day, you wake to Nuolan making small fried pancakes. Everything seems fine, so you enjoy the breakfast. Lys then asks, "So, do you have any ideas on what you'd like to do yet? Like an actual goal?" You shake your head no, not wasting your breath on talking when there are pancakes. "Okay, are you open to suggestions?" You shake your head yes. "There are a few jobs that need doing that I know of. In the mountains, there are some fire giants running amok near a village. In a forest on the other side of the world, there happens to be a green dragon trying to find a new lair, which means they're also actively trying to claim and destroy a few villages in the process. They do breath poison, but that's honestly one of the least painful things a dragon can breath at you, so that's a pretty good deal. Then there are some elementals that keep showing up in this one city, not too far from here. From what I've been told, they're water elementals."

"Will you help, this time?" If looks could kill, Clarette would've left Lys unidentifiable.

"Yes. You'd die if I didn't."

What would you like to do? Fight fire giants in the mountains, a green dragon in the forest, or elementals in the city?

Sleeeep and fire giants!