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dwellordream · 17 days

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Books Recs of 2024

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. Mystery/fantasy centered around Din, a young assistant investigator assigned to help an eccentric and infamous detective, Ana Dolabra, solve a series of murders. Din is an engraver, his brain altered so he has a photographic memory. However, no one is quite sure how he got his current position, since he failed every single one of his final exams except the combat portion. Ana is an exceedingly odd woman who refuses to go to any crime scene in person and often performs mad science experiments in her spare time. As Din struggles to keep up with the case, which revolves around a bioweapon being unleashed on a series of the empire's best engineers, he also worries what will happen when Ana finally uncovers his secrets.

Highfire by Eoin Colfer. Urban fantasy (very comedic fantasy) about a dragon called Vern (short for Wyvern), who teams up with a juvenile delinquent named Squib (real name Everett Moreau) to take down a corrupt sheriff who is plaguing the Lousiana bayou. Vern is a very small (seven feet long) dragon who is the last of his kind (as far as he knows). When he is spotted by a local troubled teen, his first instinct is to hunt Squib down and kill him, but he quickly realizes the two of them have a common enemy- the murderous sheriff who is running drugs through their territory.

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi. Magical realism about a romantic-minded art historian who is swept off his feet by a mysterious and charming heiress. After a whirlwind courtship, the happy couple return to her childhood home; a Gothic manor on a lonely island. The more time our narrator spends around his wife's past, the more questions are raised- increasingly sinister ones about who she is and what exactly she is capable of. Once upon a time, she was best friends with an equally odd and dreamy little girl named Indigo. But no one has seen Indigo for many years now- and the Flower Bride may be behind her disappearance.

Chlorine by Jade Song. Horror/magical realism. Since childhood, Ren's entire identity has been wrapped up in swimming. If she can be strong enough, fast enough, special enough, success is sure to come her way. As the end of high school approaches, Ren's passion for swimming becomes less about her future, and more about past legends of mermaids and sirens dragging sailors into the deep. School, friends, and her parents' expectations all fall away- Ren will make her home in the water, no matter what she has to do.

We Are Not Like Them by Christine Pride & Jo Piazza. Realistic fiction. Jen and Riley have been best friends for as long as they can remember, despite their vastly different childhoods. Riley is from a middle class Black family; Jen was raised by an impoverished white single mother. After twenty years of doing almost everything together, their lives are at a crossroads- Riley is a news anchor about to take Philadelphia by storm, while Jen is expecting her first child with her police officer husband. When Jen's husband is involved in the murder of a Black teenage boy by a fellow officer, Riley finds herself expected to cover the story- and Jen finds herself expected to answer for her husband's actions- and her own beliefs about what racism looks like.

Queenpin by Megan Abbott. Crime thriller/noir. Our nameless heroine lives a mousy existence working as a bookkeeper for a rundown local night club, but her life is turned upside down when the infamous Gloria Denton, a gun moll and smuggler, takes her under her wing. Gloria transforms her young protege from a timid girl to a sophisticated, cunning woman capable of handling gangsters, conmen, thieves, and bookies, but when she falls for the wrong man, her relationship with Gloria is strained, and they must decide just how far they can trust one another.

Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch by Rivka Galchen. Historical fiction. Based on the real life trial of Katharina Kepler, mother of the famed Johannes Kepler, Imperial Mathematician to the Holy Roman Empire. Katharina is a busybody, a domineering and devilishly clever woman with a particular talent for healing. She is also a fiercely loyal mother to her adult children, but when an old neighborhood grudge flares into accusations of poison and witchcraft, Katharina is determined not to meekly confess and beg pardon. The more she lashes out at her neighbors and the authorities, the more charges begin to pile up against her- despite her son's desperate attempts to save her from torture and execution.

Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott. Crime thriller/noir. Based on a real life murder case in 1931 Phoenix Arizona. Naive and sheltered Marion Seeley is deposited in Phoenix by her disgraced doctor husband, who is forced to take a job with a mining company in South America after his medical license is revoked. Marion befriends the vivacious Louise and Ginny, two fellow nurses, who introduce her to the underground party scene in Phoenix. Politicians and businessmen flock to the secret parties held by them, and it's a quick way to make money on the side. Drawn in by the luxury and thrills, Marion falls in love with Joe Lanigan, a powerful local politician, but as their affair intensifies, her friendship with the other women fractures, culminating in a gruesome crime.

#literature #recommendations

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 2 years

Note

If you still want prompts, may I suggest number 11 for Geraskier? <3

11. Calling them nicknames

Here's some pre-relationship Geraskier! No warnings.

“We need to step it up,” Jaskier tells Geralt. “No one here thinks that you and I are actually lovers.”

Geralt frowns at him. It’s been two days since Jaskier snuck Geralt into a week-long wedding celebration (where the bride may or may not be sacrificing local maidens to a fertility god for immortal youth) under the guise of Geralt being Jaskier’s lover. “But we’re sharing a room.”

“We share a room all the time, Geralt.” Jaskier rolls his eyes at the ceiling. “We need to find a way to sell it. Luckily, from what I’ve overheard, no one thinks you’re a witcher here to investigate the disappearances. They just think you’re an escort I’ve hired so I would have some lovely arm candy for the week.”

Geralt shrugs. “That’s alright then.”

“No, it’s not!” Jaskier’s voice goes high with indignation.

“We visit brothels all the time. What’s the difference?”

“It’s one thing to seek out the services of a professional for an evening and an entirely different matter to pay someone to pretend to love me for a week. The first is perfectly lovely and reasonable. The second is a cry for help.”

“Probably more believable than me choosing to be here.”

Jaskier swats him on the chest. “Like I said, we need to be a more convincing couple.”

Geralt pauses a beat, waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, Geralt asks, “How?”

Because Geralt has never really had the kind of serious, steady lover that he and Jaskier are pretending to be. And when it comes down to it, neither has Jaskier. His love affairs usually only last however long it takes for a jealous husband to start wondering where his wife wandered off to.

“You should touch me more,” Jaskier says. “Hold my hand, put your hand on my knee when we’re at dinner, sling an arm around my shoulder when we’re walking.”

Geralt nods. None of that sounds difficult; he and Jaskier have always been tactile with each other.

“You should try to gaze at me dreamily across the room, then act embarrassed when people notice you.”

Geralt spends a lot of his time gazing at Jaskier across rooms, though he doesn’t know if he can make his expression look dreamy. “Fine.”

“And.” Jaskier taps his chin, looking thoughtful. “Pet names. We need to find pet names to call each other. Something suitably soppy, like two people madly in love.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! It’s an easy way for us to show affection. I already call you ‘love’ and ‘dear heart’ all the time.”

“You call everyone ‘love’ and ‘dear heart.’”

“Excellent point, Geralt!” Jaskier says with a grin. “I need a pet name tailor made for you.”

Geralt shakes his head. “That’s not why I was—”

“You have an easy time coming up with my pet name,” Jaskier says. “Lots of people call me ‘songbird’ or ‘buttercup.’”

Geralt doesn’t know why, but the thought of calling Jaskier something that lots of other people do rankles him. “I’ll just keep calling you ‘idiot bard.’”

“That is not a pet name, Geralt.” Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest. “You need to call me something nice.”

Geralt considers for a moment, then says, “Blue jay.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “I like that. Blue jays are lovely birds.”

“They’re noisy as shit,” Geralt tells him. “And they destroy other birds’ nests and eat their young.”

“You’re really not understanding the assignment, witcher.”

“Think I understand it perfectly, blue jay.”

“Nope, you’ve ruined that. You’ll need to find something else.”

“Vulture? Ostrich? Pigeon?” Maybe this pet name thing isn’t so bad. Geralt is enjoying himself.

“You know, if we were a real couple, you’d be sleeping on the floor tonight.” Jaskier crosses his arms over his chest with a huff. “Alright, what should I call you? It’s a toss up for me between snookums and snuggle bum.”

Geralt would give anything for a wyvern to come crashing through the window and put him out of his misery. “Snuggle bum?”

“Because your bum is round and snuggly.” Jaskier leers at the bum in question.

“I will kill you.”

“No you won’t. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it that time I gambled away Roach playing Gwent.”

“I would have killed you if I hadn’t won her back the next round.” Geralt does his best to loom over the bard. Jaskier, damn him, has looked more intimidated when confronted with an angry goose. “No to both of those.”

“If you insist.” Jaskier taps his chin thoughtfully. “Sweet cheeks?”

“No.”

“My little pierogi?”

“Don’t ruin pierogi for me.”

“Ger-bear?”

“I’m going to tell Lady Vivienne that her forest god would prefer bards over local virgins.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been a human sacrifice. I do look dashing in white. Muffin?”

Geralt doesn’t know why he’s been pining after this man for the better part of a decade. Too many blows to the head, he supposes.

“You’re right.” Jaskier claps his hands together. “Snuggle bum is the clear winner.”

“Jaskier—”

“That’s how you should choose a pet name for me, Geralt. Just find a body part of mine that you like and add ‘snuggle.’ It’s perfect.”

Geralt is hard pressed to find a single part of Jaskier’s body he doesn’t like. His eyes roam frantically until they land on Jaskier’s toned arms, on full display with the sleeves of his chemise rolled up. “Snuggle… wrists?”

Jaskier heaves a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know what, just call me ‘songbird.’”

“No.” Geralt’s lips twitch. “I think snuggle wrists works for you. I like it.”

“You wouldn’t know romance if it bit you on the round, snuggly bum, witcher.”

“Hm,” Geralt says, watching the curve of Jaskier’s lips and the way his eyes twinkle with good humor. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

***

Later, when he calls Jaskier, “darling” at dinner and watches his bard go adorably pink, he thinks that Jaskier had the right idea. Maybe this pet name thing won’t be so bad after all.

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @mosaicscale @tsukiwolf42 @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #ghost's writing #prompt fills

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julietvoid · 5 months

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People I'd Like to Know Better!

The sweet @dark-and-kawaii tagged me in this tag game, you can find a link to her post here, if you're nosey like me >:-)

Last Song: human replacement - billie marten Favorite Color: jade green Currently Watching: x-files Last Movie/TV Show: runaway bride (1999) Spicy/Savory/Sweet: savory!!! Relationship Status: jason derulo - ridin' solo (i guess this technically makes this my last song but shhhh) Current Obsession: bg3, gillian anderson (always), grilled cheese with tomato soup, and making stupid pages for my stupid little characters :-) Last Google Search: anime girl saul goodman pose... SOMEONE TAGGED MY GALE PIC THIS AND I YELLED

plz feel no obligation to do this tag but i would love to get to know YOU: @deadletterpoets , @zyana-wyvern , @phasebun and @ritualhymns (if you've already done this tag link me your post!!! also if you weren't tagged but still want to do this tag- DO IT! i wanna see!)

#tag game by lady gaga or whatever the fuck she say

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lairofdragonagelore · 9 months

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Andrastian Statues

The purpose of this collection of statues is to show the Andrastian style depending on the region, the details in it, and how this may or may not influence other statues we saw in game. I also attempt to recollect some interpretations of them, although most of them are mostly based on speculations.

The current post contains the following set of statues:

Ferelden Style: Pre-Divine Andraste, Chasind Andraste, Ferelden warrior protector Andraste, The Maker, The Dwarf [?], Rider Maferath [?], Masferath Repentant, Hanged Masferath, Other Statues.

Orlesian Style: Rustic Maferath, Hessarian, Andraste; The Orlesian Warrior Andraste, The Stylised Orlesian Andraste, The Orlesian Andraste, The Orlesian Maferath, The Orlesian Havard, and the Orlesian Hessarian; The Weight of War

Free Marches Style: The Free Marches Hessarian, The Free Marches Andrastian Warriors [?]

Unknown Style: The Skull with sword, The Guide, Guardians of the Path / The Watcher.

[This post belongs to the series “Analysis and speculation of Statues”]

Ferelden Style

Pre-Divine Andraste

One of the most iconic statues in DAI.

It’s present all over Ferelden, specially in big, colossal statues along the paths of Hinterlands. They are so big that sometimes one can overlook them unless you look upwards [check Hinterlands: Statues, paintings, and structures found in the open].

In Skyhold, we can find this statue in a small version in the local chapel, which triggers the note Bride of the Maker.

Thanks to the DLC Jaws of Hakkon [Main Chamber of Razikale’s Reach], we know that this statue belongs to a pre-divine time. It is probably one of the oldest representations of Andraste we have in-game.

As usual, she has a one-spike helm that has strong resemblances to Flemeth’s tiara, and to Humanoid Mythal statue, Dragon Mythal statue, and the Ferelden Wyvern.

She has a sword in her hip.

Her sleeves and skirt have long lines that emulate folding. It’s a style we saw in statues that were considered “elvhen” in-game [for example, the Elven Archers or The guide]. But we can see this became an Andrastian style since we also see it in the Blocky bearded humanoid.

Her gigantic hands have been used in several elvhen places, and I wonder how meaningful these are: these hands appear in Exalted Plains: the Dead Hand as well as in the Shattered Library, holding eluvians. Is this a mere reuse of resources or hides some lore in it? We know DAI is less lazy about this than previous games.

This statue is curiously aligned with Humanoid Mythal statue in the Fade, as well as with the Imperial Highway Columns [check The Raw Fade: Part 1]. A Design choice that keeps me wondering if it hides some meaning in it.

Chasind Andraste

It has the design of a totem.

Its relief is very intricate.

She is represented as a protector warrior due to the strong presence of the shield on it.

We can suspect this statue is also ancient, and you can see that it has similar style to the Alamarri Monolith with swirls we find all over Hinterlands.

If you pick the Chantry-related garden in Skyhold, this statue appears in it and the archivist Banon will mention details about it in The Women of All War. He claims it’s Chasind, not original from Skyhold, brought by Ferelden into the castle. He also suggest it’s a re-usage of an ancient totemic statue.

This last comment streghtens the idea that ancient Andrastian art tends to be done over or using/co-opting statues from previous civilisations.

Ferelden warrior protector Andraste

Another classic representation of Andraste in game.

It’s Ferelden style.

She is represented as a warrior [holding shield and sword] but also as a divine entity [I suspect the ring behind her works as a rustic design of a halo].

There is a chance that the thick “halo” could be an adaptation from another icon we saw among the Elvhenan design: the Golden Ring. How is this possible? I think it’s not too strange considering how deeply related to the elves the Avvar are. If we think that part of this culture comes from the Alamarri, one could guess that through the elvhen lover that Thrydda had, some elvhen presence has been around this culture to incorporate elvhen iconography in their own art, translated later into something of this shape.

The Maker

This mysterious figure has no face, in fact, it looks like bandaged. In his right hand holds a crown, while in his left hand, a dagger. The outfit is a very simple robe.

The dagger is quite curious for a representation of the Maker.

This statue took me a long whlie to identify. In early posts I kept calling it Faceless figure holding a crown. I came to the conclusion it is the Maker.

This statue appears always within the context of the Andrastian statues, so it could not be asumed in any other way than related to the Andraste Myth. In the posts Andrastian Design: Stained Glasses and Andrastian Design: Tapestry and Tryptich, we can see that a figure with no face and wearing a crown of similar characteristics is represented as the Maker. These are my main arguments to be confident about this identification.

In Hinterlands, he appears in the main hall of Haven very high upon the hall, hidden in the shadows, in a room filled with andrastian iconography, which reinforces the idea that it represents an entity that is above all of them, Andraste included. Another confirmation of being the Maker.

It also appears in the Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path, which has a mixture of statues, and in Forbidden Oasis, when the place was took by the Andrastian forces. It also appears in the mysterious Hinterlands: The Unknown Ruin. Other more natural and Andraste-related places where we find it: Redcliffe - Future, Therinfal Redoubt, Western Approach: Adamant Fortress.

The Dwarf [?]

This figure was tag along the blog as Blocky bearded humanoid. It is found in the main hall of the Templar building of Therinfal Redoubt and in the corridors of Redcliffe - Future

The design of this statue feels closer to the pre-divine Andraste. Maybe it has some influence of the Alamarri style.

The long lines on sleeves and chest seem to suggest similarity in style with the pre-divine Andraste but also with the elvhenan statues such as the Elven Archers, or The guide.

Its face seems to show a big smile, but if you see it with more detail, it may also represent a long, long beard. The broad constitution, the big ears, the lack of hair, and the prominent beard seem to suggest a golem-like or dwarven representation.

I can’t say I can identify this figure in the Andrastian Myth, but it’s related to the Andrastian Faith since it appears where there are other andrastian figures.

If this figure comes from the Alamarri and it was co-opted by the Andrastian faith, I could suspect that may be related to the dwarven culture that Alamarri had. If we remember Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path, she had a child with a dwarven prince. The Chasind also had mixed descendants of humans and dwarves. So, if it’s an alamarri statue co-opted by the Chantry, it could not be strange for it to be a dwarf. These details may indicate that the Alamarri had a deeper relationship with not only elvhen, but also dwarves, and this aspect appeared in the art until co-opted by the andrastian faith resulting in this figure.

Rider Maferath [?]

This statue appears only in Fallow Mire. Although, the same statue appears riding a horse in Crestwood: surface. Maybe it’s a mere reuse of resources.

It has a similar design to the Blocky bearded humanoid.

It represents a man with a beard, and its angular design may suggest similar time and style than the previous one.

More details in the section Other Statues from this post.

Masferath Repentant

Mostly seen in the region of Ferelden [although, you can find it too in Western Approach: Adamant Fortress]

This is the typical Ferelden statue of Masferath, regretting his betrayal.

He is sitting on a stone which has a design of a snake surrounding it, representing the Tevinter influence or deal he made with the Archon before handing over his wife.

The helm in this statue has a C-shape, which I find very similar in design to the Tevinter helms [check section “Outfits” in Patterns and Styles: Tevinter]. I’m not sure if this is mere coincidence, or it speaks of a common [dragon-inspired] origin source.

Hanged Masferath

This totemic sculpture can be found in Hinterlands: Statues, paintings, and structures found in the open.

This is a Ferelden representation of Masferath being hanged. Clearly Ferelden has a strong sentiment with his betrayal.

The totemic structure seems to show mabaris at its base, followed by two different kinds of birds or maybe it’s a dragon [hard to say].

The top of these totems keeps bringing my attention: I can’t stop thinking there may be some link with the Tevinter metallic statue that I called “Tevinter bird”, found in Ferelden in the underground region of Crestwood: Flooded Caves.

Other Statues

The couple can be found in Hinterlands: Redcliffe - Present, as a symbol to remember those who died in DAO-Redcliffe. It can also be found in Crestwood: surface as a memory statue of the drown, and in Frostback Basin [DLC]: Nigel’s point, as a memory statue of Ameridan’s friends: The templar Haron and the dwarf Orinna. It feels more like a reuse in most cases since it’s a strange statue to represent "fallen/lost people”. Certainly we can assume it’s Ferelden made.

The horse with the rider seems to have, as we see in its drawing from the book Art of Inquisition, a lot in common with the previous statue I called “Rider Masferath”. The horse has been removed in some other places to only let the human figure stay. It can be seen in Fallow Mire without his horse, and in Crestwood: surface. Sometimes the rider is not well chiselled in the stone.

The vessel with many faces is only seen once in the game, in the The Darvaarad - Part2. We know the Qunari took this castle and put a lot of statues that they gathered around the world. However, this statue of many faces looks like it belonged to the inner corridors of the castle, implying the castle per ser may have been Ferelden, or elvhen in origin, but repurposed by Ferelden later. In the game we only see the “back” part of it, while in the book Art of Inquisition, we can see the full statue, which implies a beheaded figure. Maybe it’s the representation of a jury. It could also be interpreted as an entity that puts “the right head” into the people, suiting the Qunari and their Qun philosophy, but this interpretation would make me question why it is so related to Ferelden art in the Art Book.

Orlesian Style

Rustic Maferath, Hessarian, Andraste

A bit distant to the style of the Blocky bearded humanoid, we have these series of statues representing typical characters from the Andrastian Myth.

They are mostly located in different areas all over Orlais [or inside the Skyhold if you pick an Andrastian garden].

We find Andraste, in blue and red [I’m assuming one is the bride of the Maker, while the other is the warrior protector of her people]

Masferath is carrying a crown (?) in his hands, and Hessarian is holding the Sword of Mercy.

These seem to belong to an Orlesian style but rustic or more “popular”. They give me the impression that were made by the working class people who could not afford realistic artists to sculpt them in stone.

They seem to be made out of wood.

The Orlesian Warrior Andraste

Unlike the previous one, this Orlesian statue is made out of stone and is bigger, more detailed, and realistic. It seems to appear in rich/high class places.

It also appears in Emerald Graves: Din'an Hanin, which may represent the influence of the Andrastian faith among the Ancient Dalish when the Dales was their Kingdom land granted by Andraste herself.

This statue presents Andraste as a warrior: she is wearing a detailed armour, a big sword, and, curiously, a helm that has no iconic single-spike. However, I can see some similarities in the armour design to Flemeth’s armour or the armour used by Humanoid Mythal statue.

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, Orlesian Havard, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Stylised Orlesian Andraste

Another over-detailed statue of Andraste made out of Stone which appears in wealthy places.

The whole design of Andraste has a strong similarity to Tyrdda Bright-Axe, which may suggest that this statue may have a strong alamarri influence, mixing Andraste tale with the representation of Tyrdda.

The icon that represents the sun, ironically, has a strong similarity with the statue I called Sun-head creature, deeply related to the Elvhenan and, potentially, to Tevinter and its old dragon gods. This may imply that this statue may have collected several icons and details from different cultures and faiths to gather them in the cult to Andraste. This process is well known in human History, where the forced religion tries to blend with the local ancient one to produce an assimilation of the new faith.

The Orlesian Andraste

This Orlesian statue is made out of stone and is bigger and a lot more detailed and realistic that the “wooden” sculptures.

It tends to appear in wealthy places as well as inside the Chantries of the game.

It represents mostly the divine Andraste and the bride of the Maker, without any element of her warrior side.

She has a one-spike helm that has strong resemblances to Flemeth’s tiara, Humanoid Mythal statue, Dragon Mythal statue, and the Ferelden Wyvern.

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, Orlesian Havard, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Orlesian Masferath

It is called “The Betrayer”.

We see the man worried, grabbing his own head, showing the weight of his own betrayal. He keeps the crowd of his leadership of the Alamarri in his hand since the Chantry tale says that he betrayed Andraste out of jealousy because she was more important than him among their people. I always questioned this since he was the one commanding the armies and their people into Tevinter, and he may have chosen the “lesser bad” option [read the The Chantry and the Mythology of the Chant of Light for more details].

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Havard, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Orlesian Havard

Havard is shown here with avvar clothings [fur-based].

He is carrying the urn of Andraste’s ashes that will be placed in Haven and will become later the Temple of Andraste [DAO].

We know thanks to the notes triggered in it that this statue seems to represent Havard but its appearance was based on a noble’s lover [check it in Emprise du Lion: Pools of the Sun].

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Orlesian Hessarian

He is holding the sword that will be called the Sword of Mercy, used to kill Andraste in the pyre so she could not suffer anymore.

His hat has a bent T-shape that we can see in many other helms of Tevinter warriors in the section of “outfits” in Patterns and Styles: Tevinter.

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, and Orlesian Havard.

The Weight of War

This statue was tagged in this blog as Man holding bigger head for a long while.

It has appeared in Forbidden Oasis, Redcliffe - Future, and in Orlais: Winter Palace.

Thanks to the constant presence of Andrastian-themed art around it, I could finally assume that this statue belongs to Andrastian art in Orlesian style.

The main man has angular features, his ears are not visible since it looks like he is wearing a chain-mail. He uses scale-based pauldrons, and a robe. He is holding a sword with one hand while the other holds a bigger head. By comparison with the state of the overall figure, we can assume that the bigger head has a lot of wounds and scars [meaning that this is part of the sculpture design and not a consequence of erosion].

Despite looking similar, the head in his hand and this man’s profile are different. The bigger head has a smaller, shrank nose.

The only significant shape in this statue that can give us a resemblance of a hint to whom it belongs is his belt, which has pointy ends. We had seen this pattern in two places: in Tevinter artefacts, such as the sacrificial burial, or in andrastian outfits.

It triggers a codex called The Weight of War which is a bit unreliable, since the person explaining this is an amateur historian, but it’s the only hint we have about this statue. The amateur historian implies that this statue may belong to a warrior with a philosophy similar to the Grey Wardens.

More details about this statue in the post Forbidden Oasis.

Free Marches Style

The Free Marches Hessarian

It appears mostly in the Templar fortress of Therinfal Redoubt

This statue has a strong resemblance to Tevinter art. It’s not only the dark metallic material used for the sculpture, which was strong similarities with Tevinter artefacts such as Thrummer, Water dispenser, Tevinter urn, Tevinter artefact with spikes, Tevinter golem or Claw of Dumat, but also the prominence of angles and pointy ends.

There is no codex associated with this sculpture, but I can guess it may represent Hessarian [the main Tevinter figure in the Andrastian Myth] since this statue has a version carrying a sword.

It has a long beard and hair.

This statue has also been present in DA2, specially in the Chantry district of Kirkwall [check it in Architecture of Kirkwall : The Chantry].

The Free Marches Andrastian Warriors [?]

It appears mostly in the Templar fortress of Therinfal Redoubt and in the Fade.

It’s wearing a typical DA2 Andrastian robe, but the helm has always brought my attention: it has a lot of more similarity to the Tevinter warriors than to the one-single spike helm of Andraste.

Its weapon also has a strong similarity to the weapon used by Tevinter golems, while its helm has strong similarities with the ones that belong to the Tevinter warriors. One may say that both of them, in fact, are representing the one-spike helm of Andraste.

The unmistakable identification with Andrastian faith is given by the robe: if we see the chest, we will see the pointy half sun on it, which was the main design of the outfit of Elthina and other chantry priests we saw in DA2.

Unknown Style

The Skull with sword

This is the statue that I called Skull bud with sword all over this blog.

The skull is quite long for a regular human. It holds a sword. The body seem to be inside a bud or a shell that may look like a flower bud but also as the shell of an insect/scarab.

This statue has always appeared within Andrastian contexts such as in Frostback Mountains - Haven [the basement], Hinterlands:Dead Ram Grove, or Ferelden: Therinfal Redoubt, but also in places where the Andrastian context is not that strong, but still yet reasonable to appear, for example in Hinterlands: The Unknown Ruin [overtaken by Andrastian faith lately, so far we see in the statues present in this room], or Emerald Graves: Din'an Hanin [which clearly shows how the Ancient Dalish allowed a certain level of assimilation of the Andrastian faith thanks to Andraste’s gift of the Dales]. However, we also find this statue in Western Approach: The Still Ruins, Viridis Walk and Inner Sanctum, which is a pre-blight Tevinter building, so one is inclined to think that this statue may have been Tevinter in origin, and somehow, adopted later by the Andrastian faith. Or maybe it’s just Elvhenan, taken first by Tevinter, and later by the Chantry [as we see this pattern repeats over and over with everything related to Tevinter].

One of the potential interpretations is that this sculpture represents a coffin, or a dead who is put to sleep in this position. The fact that this skull is inside a bud or an insect shell [in addition to the speculation that, like all what comes from Tevinter, was originally elvhenan] brings the possibility of being related to Uthenera and the mysterious codex of Vir Dirthara: A Flowering Imago that I tried to multi-interpret in several ways in Ancient Elven codices; Vir Dirthara.

So far I know, there is no codex associated with it, and we have only speculations about it.

Its style is not strongly similar to all these Andrastian statues, but the fact that it appears mostly within andrastian themed rooms, it’s hard not to bring it into this post.

However, I’m not confident about how to understand this statue and to what culture associated it with.

The Guide

It can be seen in three places only: Emerald Graves: The open pointing more or less towards Elgar’nan’s Bastion, on top of Stone-Bear Hold Avvars - Part 2 pointing out to the sea, and in the Fade, exactly in Flemeth’s Fade: Part 2, pointing the path towards Mythal/Flemeth.

It’s associated with the unreliable landmark called The guide [written by this orlesian scholar who lacks of deep knowledge of elven culture], which identifies it as an elvhen statue, but it has a lot of style similarities to the Blocky bearded humanoid and the pre-divine Andraste as well as to the Skull bud with sword. If we see the back of an Elven Archer statue, we can find line-based similarities too, so it’s hard to decide whether this is truly Elvhen in origin and co-opted by the Andrastian and repurposed later, or it truly belongs to the set of pre-divine statues we spoke above and this amateur scholar misunderstood it as Elvhenan.

The unreliable landmark links it to Falon’Din for the mere fact that it is pointing out a place, so it “guides”. If we overlook this pathetic logic, and we give it a remote chance for it to be elvhen, we should be careful to identify it with Falon’Din. First, Via Solas, we know that Falon’Din was far from guiding people [Check Evanuris], and second, even if we consider this statue to be Falon’Din, we should never forget how Falon’Din and Dirthamen are entangled one another [check Humanoid Dirthamen], so this could also be a statue representing Dirthamen. The shape of the sleeves has some resemblance to the Elven Owl statue [they have long lines along it], but once more, both gods are so indistinguishable one another that it’s hard to say who is who.

Guardians of the Path / The Watcher

This hooded statue was called Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din in this blog.

The hooded statue can be seen in four places: in Emerald Graves: The open, as a watcher of entrances, in the Hinterlands, along the Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path inside the Calenhad’s Foothold; in Exalted Plains: Northern Ramparts and Citadelle du Corbeau, as the main big statue when you step into the Citadelle [again, watching over an entrance] and in Flemeth’s Fade – Part 2, as a statue bleeding profusely with a sword in its back, as an unmistakable symbol of betrayal.

In all these cases, the hooded version of the statue seems to be related to “watch or protect entrances”. Due to its presence in the Fade of Flemeth, we also can associate it with deep betrayal.

Once we see how the pattern unfolds with the statue I called Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din [hodded version] we can understand the Andrastian version “guardian of the path” in similar fashion [he always appears in entrances as well], suspecting it was a re-usage and co-opt of the elvhen hooded statue when the Andrastian forces conquered the Ancient Dalish's lands.

The Guardian of the Path appears twice in game: in Crestwood: surface, at the entrance of the region, similar position as the hooded versions in Emerald Graves, and in the entrance to the region of the Exalted Plains.

#andrastian design #andraste #The Guide #guardian of the path #Skull bud with sword #Man holding bigger head #orlesian design #ferelden design #Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din #andraste statue #hessarian #havard #Maferath #blocky bearded humanoid #Faceless figure holding a crown #the maker #maker #Analysis and speculation of Statues

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i-plague-eater · 1 year

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OK! It's time for real odd fan theories!

It's a widespread fandom headcanon that Cedric is a naga. Which is a quite obvious thing to assume considering that nagas are basically snakes with a human torso. Many fans are giving his folk an Indian vibe and I really like such diversity.

Since small Cedric in my comic book is fond of folklore and especially everything including dragons, I started collecting mythology as well. There are four legged classy dragons, wyverns with two legs/hands but there are also wyrms who sound like worms. So I was like: who the heck are wyrms? From "The Lair Of The White Worm" movie I knew that it's an old tradition of calling dragons "worms". It seemed at first that a wyrm is a dragon that misses legs and only has snake-like body and wings. Also, breaths acid. I dug deeper and found out that according to the one of theories a word wyrm comes from Lindworm or Lindwurm.

Who are the lindworms then?

Lindworms are long, snake-like mythical creatures living deep in the forest that traditionally has the shape of a giant serpent monster. Legend tells of two kinds of lindworm, a good one associated with luck, often a cursed prince who has been transformed into another beast, and a bad one, a dangerous man-eater which will attack humans on sight. Sometimes Lindworms has legs and/or wings, sometimes they don't. It really depends on the myth. I do like a variation saying that they has two limbs but they move like snakes and use these limbs as hands.

Here the fun begins.

As you might know, the Escanors came from Britain, like, Arthurian Britain. Lindworms along with wyverns are a part of northern folklore, like, Scotland for example. Or we might remember The Lair Of the White Worm again where Bram Stocker is referencing a legend of the Lambton Worm.

Here's something to spice up things even more:

In the 19th-century tale of "Prince Lindworm" (also "King Lindworm") from Scandinavian folklore, a "half-man half-snake" lindworm is born, as one of twins, to a queen, who, in an effort to overcome her childlessness, followed the advice of an old crone who instructed her to eat two onions. As she did not peel the first onion, the first twin was born a lindworm. The second twin is perfect in every way. When he grows up and sets off to find a bride, the lindworm insists that a bride be found for him before his younger brother can marry. Because none of the chosen maidens are pleased by him, he eats each one until a shepherd's daughter who spoke to the same crone, is brought to marry him, wearing every dress she owns. The lindworm tells her to take off her dress, but she insists that he shed a skin for each dress she removes. Eventually his human form is revealed beneath the last skin. Some versions of the story omit the lindworm's twin, and the gender of the soothsayer varies. A similar tale occurs in the 1952 novel The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis. (source)

The most insane idea is to make Cedric a Phobos and Elyon brother, but a bastard. Like, a bastard who is a bastard due to his lindworm nature? Or just a aristocrat with the same background, also related to the Escanor clan. I mean, he's been called "a Lord" right?

I don't think I can use the first idea, although might use the second one for an adult cartoon Cedric. Anyway, I do like the idea of using ancient Northern mythology and English folklore. I'll keep digging and bring you interesting pieces once I'll find them.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h cedric #lord cedric #w.i.t.c.h. cedric #cedric

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ibiteactually · 6 months

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Thank you for all your lovely tags on the Wyverns bride 💕 the epilogue is still in process but I’m totally working on it. You know. Between other things.

Of course!!! I love your work so much and I plan on reading your other stories too! I understand being busy with other things, as I have too. Which is why it took me a while to get back to this lovely story. Can't wait to see how you finish it off. I'll be sad to see it end 😔

#always bittersweet ending a story #take your time with writing #even if im anxious lmaoooo

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blood-darkened-moon · 1 year

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Dark Souls

Dark Souls 1

Dark Souls 2

Enemies Aurous Knight | Heide Knight | Amana Priestess | Pursuer | Flame Salamander

Dark Souls 3

Others Dubious Grandma | Maiden of the Moon

DS Trivia

#dark souls #tag list

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ghoulsbeard · 2 years

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Welcome to DADWC! Perhaps "Declaration" for any person(s) of your choice (but I'm thinking Dorian?)

thank you blue!!! :o) !! happy friday!

@dadrunkwriting

Thus far Dorian had kept his counsel to himself; endured the usual parade of corpses bearing swords, spewy wyverns, protective wards with opinions of their own-- but not a flooded fort, not with a rift in the water. Let Blackwall handle those; he seemed to enjoy being bashed on the head by demons.

“You won’t melt,” said the Iron Bull, mercilessly.

“The fen was worse,” said Mikal, frowning.

“My dear Inquisitor,” said Dorian. “I am not setting foot in this miserable, demon-infested heap of rubble until the river has gone down. It is tricky enough to cast spells in water without cooking us all to death, and now you’d like me to do it in a ruin? If you wanted to be buried alive, all you had to do was ask.”

“Bride save us. Dispense with the speeches,” said Vivienne. “We cannot cross the river until the bridge is mended. Shall we sit on our hands while demons swarm the Dirth?”

“Dorian,” Mikal began, warmly, “you could do me the honor of laying down a charm or so at the barracks gate--”

“As if I waded through miles of horrid fens only to desert you now!”

“That river isn’t going down anytime soon,” said the Iron Bull, with his eye to the flooded bank. “Short of some big spell.”

“No,” said Dorian and Vivienne together. He grunted in assent.

“Can we lure them out?” Mikal wondered. “Can I seal the rift in secret? Dorian! Can I borrow your little ring?”

“That’s worse,” Dorian protested, but Vivienne had beaten him; stooped down, and taken the Inquisitor’s gloved hand in her own, said quietly,

“-- my dear, never alone-- not while we travel together.” -- and the Inquisitor’s eyes turned soft and sweet as music.

“All right, all right,” Dorian grumped, to no one in particular, “I suppose the ring isn’t half bad, as a gambit. Bull, we’re scheming.”

“Finally!”

#microfic #dorian pavus #vivienne #mikal #the iron bull a little...#idk if i should tag him #thank you!

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vaya-writes · 1 year

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The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.2

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

2000 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Adalyn wakes early. She’s used to getting up at sunrise to start baking, and up in the Spires with the balcony door propped open, she has an unimpeded view of the lightening sky.

Slate had woken earlier still and is nowhere to be found. There’s evidence of his stirring here and there. A blanket in a pile by the chaise. Crumbs at the table. A covered plate of cold toast waiting for Adalyn. She bites into it, relishing the jam Slate had procured.

She’s tempted to go back to bed. To sleep in until the sun finishes rising. To loaf about and relax, perhaps with a book. But she’s not yet game to go through Slate’s collection, and the threat of boredom chafes at her skin.

Instead, she dresses for the day, gathers up some of her cleaning supplies, and makes for the kitchen. She’s not sure what state she’ll find it in but is looking forward to using the area herself.

Light streams into the windows as she makes her way down the Tower until finally, she enters the passage that leads to the kitchen. Its dark, but thankfully short, and when she finds the dining room, the skylight illuminates the area enough to see her to the kitchen.

Adalyn swears under her breath as she locates the flint and steel and lights the nearest brazier. Perhaps lighting is another thing she’ll have to talk to Slate about.

When the kitchen is lit, Adalyn leans against the counter and surveys the place. Her legs are wobbly from the trek – it had been nice to stretch them, and she can move without discomfort now, but the hike will still take some getting used to.

The Matron’s staff had tidied the kitchen. Dishes had been washed and put away, and any remaining food had been sealed and put in the larder (dried fruits are all that remain). Still, there are crusts and crumbs scattered about, and the fire pit is overflowing with ash.

Adalyn sinks into cleaning. She marvels over the plumbing as she wipes and washes the counters. She puts on a pot of tea when she works, settling into the familiar routine. She even rummages through the larder for ingredients, and once the counters are clean, starts baking some bread and biscuits. She’d brought her starter yeast from home, and Slate’s kitchen is stocked with everything else she needs.

By midmorning she’s surveying the fruits of her labours with satisfaction. There’s a platter of sweets to snack on, jam sandwiches which she eats on the spot, and a tea set which she resolves to take upstairs. She sets aside a handful of other things to take to the Tower, so that she won’t have to descend to the kitchen each morning for supplies.

Throughout the morning Adalyn had noted a distant rumble. It had been almost comforting. In the stillness beneath the mountains, with Adalyn’s busywork being the only sounds, it soothes her to hear something else.

When she finishes her work and takes a moment to breathe, she listens to the sounds with curiosity, then recognition. The occasional boom and slight tremors beneath her feet could be indicative of a cave in but had been too consistent. It’s more likely Slate, at work somewhere within the Spires.

She glances at her food, then around the kitchen. There’s honestly not much else for her to do, and with the rest of the day stretching out before her, she decides to explore.

She sets off in the direction of the byway, following the distant sounds of earth rending, retracing her steps through the dining hall and a winding passage before she emerges into the enormous cavern. At the size of it she blanches. Awe inspiring as it is, the walls are still unremarkable, and she worries that she might lose her way. She’s looking around for landmarks, anything to help mark one passage from another, when she notices the pile of stones beside her.

Their purpose immediately becomes clear. Adalyn notes the number of stones and their arrangement – unique. Each door marker is different from the next. She resumes her exploration, walking alongside the stream and taking in the sights. Plant life creeps down from the ceiling, spilling over the edge of the cave opening, high above. The area is almost lush.

She doesn’t have to walk the entire cavern, thankfully. The sounds are coming from just across the main-way, and she eyes one passage speculatively. The gouge marks around the edge of the doorway are fresh; debris and dust litter the ground and a set of footprints, visible even to her, track through it all. She spies a bundle of white and stoops to examine it. A shirt, discarded in a heap.

She’d go in after Slate if it weren’t for the darkness. At its thickness, she balks. Even if the wyvern were through the passage, she has no way of knowing about any hazards.

“Slate?” She calls.

The noise ceases. For a moment she hears nothing. Then there’s the crunch of footsteps.

“Adalyn. Are you alright?”

The air swirls with dust. Adalyn waves the particulates away from her face and coughs. “I brought you lunch, though it might be early.”

Slate emerges from the darkness, pausing at the threshold of the shadows. “It’s never too early to see you, dearest.”

Adalyn squints at his outline, using the expression to cover her embarrassment. “Do I get to see you?”

He straightens, and steps out of the corridor. Contrite, he runs a hand through his hair, smearing a white streak through it. “Sorry. Difference in eyesight, I guess.”

He’s shirtless, in his demi form. There’s a layer of filth and grit covering him, almost creating patterns against his grey skin and dappled scales.

She eyes the swarths of them: thick and dark on the backs of his arms and shoulders, lightening colour at his sides, and thinning into skin over his chest. There’s a fresh scar above his left pectoral, and Adalyn recognises it as the place where Slate had removed a scale.

She drags her eyes away from his chest and forces a polite smile. “Did you want to wash up first, or...”

Slate gestures towards the cavern. “Let’s go over there. You can sit in the light, and I can take a dip in the stream.”

Adalyn takes a seat at the bank before unwrapping their food. She sets the remaining sandwiches aside for Slate while she picks at a biscuit. She watches with bemusement as Slate kicks off his shoes and socks before stepping straight into the stream. She catches sight of his back – tessellated scales the colour of coal – and the amusement slips her mind.

“What are you working on today?”

His arms are wreathed in shadow, fingers tipped with long claws. Adalyn watches, riveted, as he dispells the claws into puffs of smoke and begins rubbing water up his arms and chest. His skin from the forearms down is still shadowy, and cloudy water streams off him in rivulets.

“I’m carving the passage from the main-way to where your quarters will be.”

“By hand?”

“The first time, yes.”

He climbs the bank to sit beside her, and she wordlessly hands him a sandwich. He smiles his thanks. “What about you?”

Adalyn sighs. “I don’t know. To be honest, without a bakery to run, I fear I might get quite bored.”

“What did you used to do with your free time?”

She leans back, watching a cloud pass. “Cook. Clean. Garden. Sometimes spin and sew.”

“Do you like doing those things?”

“Yes, sometimes. They help me feel in control.”

Slate considers while he finishes his food. Then rests his hand in his chin. “We could find you a project. I always have several to keep me busy.”

She grins. Slate seems the type to keep multiple pots on the burner. “You got a list, or something?”

He straightens and counts on his fingers. “Finish the blueprints for your quarters, carve out the passages and main spaces, contract a smith for fittings, designate a permanent space for my workshops, build said workshops, prototype different elevators,” he pauses, and a blush touches his cheeks at Adalyn’s expression. “To start.”

She enjoys his enthusiasm. Even if she finds it hard to relate. “I thought you’d finish the Tower first.”

He brushes some crumbs away and reaches for a sweet. “I don’t want to crowd you longer than necessary. Your space is my top priority.”

Some of her mirth fades, and she tries to keep a neutral expression. Part of her fixates on those words, searching them for further meaning. Perhaps he is being genuine.

Tentatively, she replies. “I don’t feel crowded.”

She misses the way he looks at her, somewhat sharply. Fearing he had misstepped. “You don’t? I- well, I know how humans value their privacy.”

She purses her lips. Part of her very badly wants to protest the distance he’s literally building between them. But she doesn’t want to push, and risk seeming clingy.

She lets the topic drop. “So what project do you suggest I take up?”

He thinks. “You like cleaning.”

A nod.

He looks almost pained as his picks his next words. “I suppose I don’t mind if you go through my things. Organise them, I mean.”

She’s torn again. She wants to react with brevity. Tease him for his tastes. ‘What if you don’t like my system.’

Instead, she approaches the situation with growing anxiety and caution. She wonders if having her in his space, touching all his things, will drive him to push her away faster. She’s practically a stranger. And he’d been so frustrated with his family meddling.

“If you’re sure. I know it could be a bother.”

He shakes his head. His fingers creep towards hers. “It’s not. You’d have to try really hard to bother me. Just wait until tonight. Some of the magical artifacts can be aggressive, and I’d better point them out.”

She eyes his hand, next to hers, and some of the tightness in her chest lessons. Anxiety temporarily assuaged, she manages a smile. She stands and readies to leave, allowing herself some humour. “Okay dearest.”

---

When Slate joins Adalyn for dinner he is both late and sodden. He lands on the balcony and lingers there, sheepishly wringing his clothes out.

“There is a bath here.”

“I don’t want to track dust through my room,” he says before going to fetch a towel.

Adalyn had rekindled the fire herself and lit the braziers, and dinner is set out when he joins her at the table, once more in his human form. She wonders if there’s a particular reason he chooses the form so frequently.

“Sorry I’m late. My timepiece is broken.” He bites into a pastry and lets out an appreciative groan. Adalyn hadn’t found any substantial supplies in the larder and had managed to make some fruit pies with the jam preserves. He swallows and smiles at her. “How are you finding the keep?”

She shrugs. Adopts a teasing tone. “There’s room for improvement, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining.”

“Please. Complain to me.”

“Perhaps you could build an exit or two? I’m getting plenty of fresh air from the balcony, but it’d be nice to go for a walk on the surface.”

“That’s a quick fix. Though I’d be careful walking around the karst. There’s a lot of places you could fall.”

“We’re also down to bread and cheese. Some supplies wouldn’t go astray.”

Slate nods. “I go hunting every few days, but it’s slipped my mind, with all the changes. I’d planned to visit the valley tomorrow; we could stock up then?”

“What are your plans in the valley?”

He smiles, coy. “Oh, you know. Post some letters. Check in with some craftsmen. Pick up a gift for my wife.”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Right?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll forgive your tardiness then.”

“Was that all you wanted? A door and some food?”

Adalyn narrows her eyes. “I could make a list if it pleases you.”

“I love lists.”

---

#the wyvern’s bride #my writing #vaya writes #monster boyfriend #tetaro #monster romance #exophilia #i feel like the nitty gritty is boring and this is so hard to write without going over the nitty gritty #like the important part of this next arc is these two showcasing their love languages and how they have completely different ones #unfortunatly that means a heck of a lot of slate building stuff and adalyn delivering him food and making small talk with him #which just seems boring to revise and edit #please tell me this reads okay #regardless of my concerns

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flydotnet · 1 year

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Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!

(Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

But I will be fine. I must be.

Unofficial Gay Fates has made me super partial to both Scarlet and ships with Scarlet. I'm a Ryoma/Scarlet girly too, but also, the Scarlet-Xander support chain was too good for me not to get into the trenches and write something for it too. I may've read the official Scarlet/Chevois lore doc a little too many times compared to how faithful to UGF my Scarlet ended up being? Oh well. You never get anywhere if you never try! I don't like how Revelation handled... well, most things, and the thing with Valla is stoopid as it's written there, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy playing with a zombie country of sort. There's a kind of horror to it and I had to set a mood y'know?the number of times I had "Deessu. Kurimuzon." in my head while writing this fic is obscenely high.

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Bride of Crimson

Summary: Guilt will come later - for now, Scarlet needs to escort a prince to safety.

Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates (Revelation route) Ship: Pre-S-Support Scarlet/Xander

Wordcount: words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version.

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Vallites don’t bleed.

That’s because they don’t have a soul anymore, Scarlet has been told. They’re corpses haunted by the mindless desire to do something. Ryo has compared them to a lizard’s tail once cut from its body, trembling as if alive yet dead all the same; and she didn’t really question it. If Ryo believed Corrin, then she had no reason to suspect anything either: Ryo knew what he was doing, then why would she go against him? As far as she was concerned, nothing had contradicted what his sister had said.

Vallites don’t bleed, which makes it oh so much more noticeable when it’s her comrades who do. It smears on the fluorescent grass of Valla and it smells like iron – not the sort that results from weapons clashing against each other, but that which has kept her on alert for so long, back in Cheve. It looks out of place right when she thought she had finally gotten used to bloodshed.

Scarlet has been through worse, though. It takes a special kind of guts to rise against a kingdom so much bigger than your country, whose nobles seem so adamant to hurt people they can’t see while they laze around and live in luxury (and someone may’ve helped with her perception of that, but one man can’t change an entire life experience of conclusions), but it’s this special kind that’s now allowing her to cut through ghosts that play pretend with everyone’s emotions and distress alike.

A strong, belting voice screams from behind her, prompting her to briefly turn around.

“Scarlet, look out!”

She barely has the time to crouch before a sword dark as the night pierces through a Faceless’ chest. If the voice wasn’t a giveaway, then the weapon alone would be a dead seller for the ages.

“Xander?!”

He walks his horse to her, Siegfried still in hand. (A beautiful weapon, if sinister… and plain. Unfortunately, her offer to spruce it up has already been turned down).

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m not, in no small part thanks to ya.” She shines him a smile.

“Very well,” he replies with stiff shoulders and a smirk just as uncomfortable to look at. “Where’s your wyvern?”

“Errrh… Vaida got injured earlier, so I’m lettin’ her a nice rest back at camp! Can’t let my ride get worse under my watch!”

“I see. I trust you can handle yourself on your own, right?”

“Of course! Dun take me for a fragile lil’ flower, Dandy-Lion!”

He blushes like a tulip at the remark, “p-please keep this silly nickname off the—”

Xander stops dead in his tracks, eyes opening wide.

“Dan…”

“Get down!”

A hand axe cuts through the air, flirting so close to her pauldron that it tears it off from her, taking it in its course.

Once the initial shock passes, she clutches her own axe to her and swings it at the culprit – some Vallite soldier with empty sockets for eyes, in a vague human shape, glaring at her with an expression just as soulless. Yep, no sympathy to be found here.

She slashes it in a single blow and doesn’t bother with delicacy, almost cutting the creature in two clean halves, looking around just enough to tell Ryo and his little brother have taken care of their left flank and Corrin and company the right one. The battle’s almost over, so she gets back up, straps her axe back onto her. She’ll polish it once they have downtime again.

With an excited step, Scarlet turns around again.

“Good job spotting that, Dandy…”

A black horse is staring back at her with a nervous breath.

“…Lion…?”

It happens to have no rider.

Urgency hurries through Scarlet’s every fibre, until she finally thinks about checking the ground. When she does, her jaw almost drops, but she clenches her teeth and runs to a crumpled body on the ground. Ignoring every feature, she puts her hand in front of the person’s nose and two fingers on their neck – air, a pulse, a groan of pain.

Good, he’s still alive (she doesn’t quite know what she’d have done if he hadn’t been). Now, for how long, she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t wish to find out. Time to bring him to safety and have someone who knows their way around with a staff do their magic.

As delicately as she can, she picks Xander up in her arms as if carrying a bride. The irony isn’t lost on her, as removed as it is from the situation: she renounced to getting wed when she picked up a banner and threw her life into fighting for her land, yet there she is, carrying him like she’d have expected to be, when she was a little girl and she was allowed to dream.

Oh, but that was so long ago, she doesn’t know what she’s thinking about it. It’s not like she’d have looked as limp as Xander is right now, breathing almost impossible to see with how small the movement of his chest is. His skin is pale, the rings under his eyes darker than Siegfried, his limbs limp and fingers loose. In ways, she’s carrying a shadow, in others, a statue. In either case, her fingers feel like they could break something.

Drops dripple down her shoes as she walks. The colour of her armour makes it hard to tell what it is, but the smell of iron never mistakes her. Xander’s would make it just as difficult, but whatever slashed him pierced through what was where, leaving skin and muscle naked for all to see and blood – a river of it, in fact, trailing behind them, and she wishes she could run.

The battlefield seems bigger than it was before and how does she regret not having Vaida by her side right about now. Xander’s horse can’t help them now, not with the sort of injury he has. For all she knows, it’d just make the blood loss happen faster – and gods, he’s already pale as is. Come to think of it, maybe his pallor never reminded her of the sheltered life she imagined the Nohr royals to have…

A feeble voice calls her back to the sound of her footsteps crunching dying grass.

“Scar…”

“Keep your strength to yourself… Dandy-Lion.”

To her surprise, she sees him smile – one as delicate as his breath. It’s good enough, she thinks.

“I’m not too heavy, am I…?”

On second thought…

“You’re lighter than I expected, honestly.” She snickers. “Heh, if I had been told the High Prince of Nohr would worry about that on his deathbed, I wouldn’t have believed it, yet here we are!”

She hopes that, if he can focus on something else…

“I can’t be too worried if it’s you, can I…?”

Her face burns.

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?!” She snorts and chuckles. “Don’t make me laugh like that, there may still be enemies ‘round!”

Huh, his smile is loopy…

“Your presence… is reassuring…”

…and his cough isn’t getting better.

“What the…”

There is a thin trail of blood going down his lips and chin. Oh no.

“Scarlet, you’re…”

The good thing to do would be to make him spare his energy, but… despite it all, his voice…

“Shut up, I’m bringing you to a healer! You can tell me all ’bout it later!”

She quickens her pace, despite the soreness in her legs and the way carrying someone tugs at her arms. Her pains are a minor thing compared to the man bleeding to death drop by drop in her embrace; and yes, she can’t call it anything else. Not when he calls her presence reassuring, not when she sees the way he makes her feel.

She clutches him closer to her, letting rust dripple down her breastplate, uncaring for any sort of aesthetic. Of course, this is a battlefield, and there’ll never be enough gemstones to make death and blood beautiful… but this is different, Scarlet finds. Everything around her is crimson, now, from the air she breathes to the skin she feels under soaked cloth.

If she could, she’d leave a peck on the forehead of a man who’s absolutely making it out of here.

The rest of the road back to camp is long and silent. Xander’s breathing is a fragile thing, or so it feels, and he doesn’t rouse back to wakefulness. She regrets telling him to shut it, now, but if it’s so he can get some rest… then so be it.

She wonders what the scar she’s left him looks like – half out of pride, half out of shame… and a little bit of general curiosity. It’s impossible for her to tell what part of his silhouette is armour and what isn’t, sometimes, and she blames it on being starstruck.

…oh, she never even thought of Ryoma like that.

The camp is now in view, with its white smoke and warm banners.

“Hey, Dandy-Lion…”

“Hmm…?”

“Is there someone you’re coming back to once this war’s over?”

He spits out some blood on the side. It’d have disgusted many, she supposes, but she appreciates the eternal reminder that, for all of his royal-ness, Dandy-Lion’s still a mortal at the end of the day. Makes him more approachable, more… lovable? (Oh gods).

“You mean… as a spouse…?”

“Yeah. So?”

“No… I cannot see myself take a wife… and neglect her as my father has…”

“You’re not your dad, ya big doofus. Pretty sure we’ve gone over that already.”

She isn’t quite sure what she expected he’d reply.

“Has someone… ever told you your honesty was refreshing…?”

She chuckles. For all of his princely ways, he isn’t above being embarrassingly adorable.

“Yes, you, that other time.”

“And you…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is someone… waiting for you back in Cheve…?”

She chuckles. Had the man she’s carrying in her arms the High Prince of Nohr, she’d have seen a reciprocal response there.

“Not in that way, no.”

“I see…”

His head lulls against her breastplate.

“You’ll be okay, Dandy-Lion. Just ya wait.”

“Oh, I know, Scarlet, I know…”

She quickens her pace one last time, heart jumping up and down.

Xander lifts his head, painfully slowly, grunting under his breath. Aww…

“The camp’s not far. You’ll be fine.” It’s a little hard to believe when you see him bleeding, white like a sheet and eyes foggy, but if she isn’t here to believe in his recovery, then who will? “Sorry, by the way. If I hadn’t lost focus…”

“Peace, Scarlet… An injury is better than a death…”

“That’s true…”

“Isn’t it funny?”

“What would be?”

“That this is the second time you’re carrying me to safety…”

“Does the first time count, when it was just fixing my own mistake?”

He coughs when he chuckles with her, but he’s still with her.

“I’d say so…”

“Then guess it counts!”

She steps into camp and, as gently as she can, gives her charge to a worried Camilla of Nohr, who, not unlike her, can carry Xander without grunting (gods, what little firecracker said really holds water). The horse, who she abandoned without meaning to, follows Camilla inside the camp, as diligently as it behaved when it was mounted.

Speaking of mounts, she’s missed Vaida very much. Maybe she can pay a visit to Dandy-Lion later, once she’s had a good conversation with her trusted wyvern about what to do when you seem to have a thing for the crown prince of the kingdom you’ve spent most of your life fighting against… oh, and once Dandy-Lion isn’t covered in crimson anymore. It’s not because beauty is never truly tarnished that she doesn’t want to see him soaked in his own blood.

She should start with cleaning her armour and weapons, actually… Blood doesn’t suit them either.

It suits nobody, really.

#bad things happen bingo #fire emblem #fire emblem fates #fe14 #fe xander #fe scarlet #bridal carry #bthb

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