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ghoulelegy · 3 months

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Take me back to the night we met

Ghoulette Appreciation week 3

Thank you @jesusbutbetterrr for the promptlist and thank you once again @jimothybarnes for being a wonderful friend and beta reader

Lazy Sunday / First Ritual

Mist x Aurora

"So, Rory, finding your place well, then yah?" Mist speaks cooly as she cracks a couple of eggs into a bowl.

"Yeah! I am! Can you make me some of what....whatever you're making?" Aurora pleaded with the water ghoulette, the strands of her hair kissed with the borealis itself, flowed around her face.

"Scrambled eggs? Nah. Mine never come out great. You're better off making them yourself" Mist responded rather backhandedly.

"Oh no, I'm sure you're a wonderful chef" Aurora pleaded with the water ghoulette.

"Not in a million years, princess" Mist remarked, her eyes, while blue like the stone-cold ocean, were filled with a surprising warmth.

"Uhh, can you not call me that" was Rory's response, which took Mist by surprise.

"Yeah my bad, sorry" Mist continued to speak.

"It's perfectly fine" Aurora smiles at the water ghoulette "I can help you with the scrambled eggs?"

"Only if you give me a kiss" Mist continued to tease.

"Oh now you're just being pathetic" Aurora replied, but not before adding a "so where do you want it? Cheek? Forehead? Lips?"

"Cheek works" Mist laughed

Mist's eyes gleamed mischievously as she handed Aurora a whisk, their fingers briefly brushing against each other. "Alright then, let's see if we can whip up some magic in these eggs," Mist remarked, the cozy Sunday morning unfolding with shared laughter and the enticing aroma of breakfast ingredients filling the air.

Aurora eagerly took the whisk, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Magic it is! I hope you're ready to witness my legendary egg-beating skills," she teased, playfully nudging Mist.

Mist chuckled, a hint of warmth in her gaze. "I'll be the judge of that, newbie. Just don't blame me if the eggs rebel against your so-called legendary skills."

"So, Rory," Mist began, breaking the comfortable silence, "tell me more about yourself. How's life as a newbie in this spectral realm treating you?"

Aurora smiled, her movements graceful as she cracked eggs into the bowl. "It's been quite the journey, Mist. Everything is so different, yet strangely familiar. Finding my place, as you put it, has been an adventure of its own."

As Aurora observed Mist whisk the eggs, a spark glimmered in her eye "Not everyone adapts to the spectral realm with such grace."

Aurora blushed at the unexpected compliment, her attention momentarily diverted from the eggs. "Well, having a seasoned ghoulette like you as my guide certainly makes it easier."

Mist smirked, a playful glint in her eye. "Seasoned, huh? I'll take that as a compliment. Now, back to these eggs. Give them a good whisk, and let's see if your legendary skills can handle it."

"So...how was your first ritual, Rory?" Mist continued to ask, her voice soft and cool.

Aurora's eyes sparkled with excitement as she shared her experience. "It was spectacular! The lights, the people! The way I danced with the others!!" Her enthusiasm echoed through her words, conveying the exhilaration of a night filled with vibrant energy.

Mist listened attentively, a genuine smile forming on her face. "Sounds like you had quite the time. Dancing with the spectral crowd, huh? Not bad for a newbie."

Aurora nodded, her movements animated as she recalled the moments. "The lights were like a mesmerizing kaleidoscope, and the music—oh, Mist, it was like nothing I've ever heard before. I felt so alive, like I truly belonged."

Mist's gaze softened, understanding the significance of such moments in the spectral realm. "It's moments like these that make this realm special. There's a certain magic in the way we connect with the energy around us."

"Exactly!" Aurora exclaimed. "And the best part was feeling a sense of unity with everyone. No judgments, just pure, unbridled joy."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it!" Mist replied, with a smile on her face.

"What about you Mist? What was your first ritual like then?"

"Well...." Mist paused, her voice losing that sense of coolness she so boldly established. "To be honest, it was...kind of weird?"

"Weird? How so?" Aurora pondered, her eyes gazing into that of Mist, as she caught Mist turn away.

"I thought I was this fearless, unbeatable force. But my first ritual taught me humility. I stumbled, got disoriented in the ritual and, well, let's just say, I tripped over my own feet. Thankfully no one filmed me....I think."

"Are you...blushing?" Aurora asked, as she saw Mist turn red.

"Am not!"

"You are! Aww, you softie, Mist!"

Mist rolled her eyes, a reluctant smile breaking through her stoic facade. "Fine, maybe a little. But let's keep this between us, alright?"

Aurora grinned, enjoying the rare moment of seeing Mist's tough exterior crumble. "Give me a kiss first"

Mist's tough exterior melted into a soft smile as she shook her head, a chuckle escaping her. "You really know how to push my buttons, don't you?" she remarked, leaning in to give Aurora a gentle kiss on the lips, their laughter lingering in the air.

Aurora felt goosebumps dance around her body when Mist pressed her lips to hers. She closed her eyes, and smiled softly. The aroma of scrambled eggs wafted through the air, becoming a metaphorical backdrop to the evolving narrative of their connection. With each word and shared glance, the kitchen transformed into a space where the mundane and the extraordinary coexisted harmoniously.

"Wow, that was...something." Aurora finally spoke, as blush formed on her dancing freckles on her face. She held a soft smile on her lips, as she looked at Mist.

Aurora's playful comment lingered in the air as Mist blinked in surprise. "Wow, that was...something," Aurora finally spoke, a blush forming on the dancing freckles adorning her face. She held a soft smile on her lips, her gaze fixed on Mist.

"What?" Mist asked, cocking her head in a slightly puzzled manner.

"You're a good kisser."

"Aw, fuck."

Aurora chuckled, amused by Mist's reaction. "What's wrong, Mist?"

"Burnt the scrambled eggs," Mist admitted with a resigned sigh, gesturing toward the stovetop where the forgotten eggs had taken on a slightly crispy hue.

Aurora burst into laughter. "Well, I guess every culinary masterpiece has its sacrifices. At least the kiss was worth it."

Mist rolled her eyes, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "Next time, I'll focus on one task at a time. Kisses can wait until after breakfast."

The two of them laughed as they scraped burnt eggs into the dustbin, as they continued to reminisce.

-------

Mist's eyes widened in surprise as she watched the video, a grin forming on her face. "Love to see it, Rory...wait...is papa wearing...a flower crown in this vid?"

"...YEP! He's so!! Aaaaahh!" Aurora's excitement bubbled over, her eyes reflecting sheer joy.

Mist couldn't help but chuckle as the moving picture of Copia adorned with flowers of all different kinds played on the screen.

"Well, I must say, papa has a flair for the dramatic. Who knew he was a secret flower crown enthusiast? Oh and look! You're...sneaking to dance with Swiss."

"I...did that at a lot."

As Mist and Aurora continued to watch the video, scenes of Aurora sneaking to dance with Swiss unfolded, capturing the genuine moments of connection and joy. Mist couldn't help but smile at the sight of their playful interactions.

"I...did that a lot," Aurora admitted with a bashful grin, her eyes fixed on the screen.

Mist raised an eyebrow playfully. "Looks like you and Swiss were quite the dancing duo. I didn't know you were such a rebel."

Aurora shrugged, still watching the video. "I guess the rhythm of the music just took over. Plus, Swiss is a great dance partner. It was more than I could have ever imagined."

As the video came to an end, Mist and Aurora sat in a shared moment of reflection, the echoes of laughter and dancing playing in the background. The Lazy Sunday continued, but the kitchen held the warmth of memories and newfound connections that transcended the ordinary.

The day quickly turned to night, by the time Mist and Rory finished showing each other videos.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the day seamlessly transitioned into a magical night. The celestial canopy above adorned itself with a myriad of stars, each sparkling like a diamond, while the aurora borealis graced the darkness with ethereal hues, a celestial dance painting the canvas of the realm.

In the midst of this enchanting symphony, Mist and Aurora, their hearts intertwined with the day's shared laughter and videos, embarked on a gentle stroll. Each step resonated with the echoes of their newfound connection, creating a harmonious melody that echoed through the spectral night.

"Mist?" Aurora's voice carried a soft, whimsical tone.

"Yeah?" Mist responded, her gaze filled with the reflective glow of the spectral lights.

"Take me back to the night we met."

With a subtle flourish, Mist conjured the essence of that magical night. The surroundings transformed, and suddenly, Mist and Aurora found themselves standing beneath the celestial spectacle of the night they first crossed paths. The echoes of laughter, the vibrant energy of the first ritual, and the enchanting glow of the spectral lights enveloped them once again, creating a moment suspended in the timeless beauty of the night.

#ghost the band #ghost band #band ghost #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #mist ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #ghoulelegy writes #ghoulette apprecation week 3 #ghoulettes #nameless ghouls

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parasite-core · 8 months

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hey! this is chance & here’s the prompt for week 6. what are your oc's bedrooms like? messy? neat? carefully designed? or a collection of their favorite things? you can verbally describe or use photos, whatever you think is best.

Hi Chance! Thanks as always for the fun prompt 😊

I especially like this one because I do think about what a lot of my OCs bedrooms look like but I rarely get to talk about it~

Roland: he created his room personalized when he made his demiplane, the Shining Cathedral, so his room very much reflects his tastes. There’s a large stained glass window of a rising phoenix that opens out to a balcony, a four poster bed with delicate light blue fabric draped from it. The ceiling has a mosaic of another phoenix, set flying against a brilliant sun. He has a desk covered primarily in books and paperwork generally, and a small silver wyvern figurine he picked up in a dragon’s lair during his adventures.

Sai: only recently got a room of her own in Korvosa so she hasn’t had a chance to really personalize it yet. She has a few ragged stuffed animals and dolls she’s picked up during her adventures and patched up, a simple bed, and some animal pelts.

Kiyo: much like Sai their room in the shared home in Korvosa is not very personalized yet. They generally share Lalaith’s room, and keep a few easy to transport alchemical tools there. Their actual home looks a bit like a hoarder’s den due to their century living there and just naturally accumulating things. There’s just a general sense of clutter, at least in the upstairs rooms, they keep the downstairs better maintained as that’s where patients typically are treated. Their bedroom is a bit like Howl’s from Howl’s Moving Castle, just miscellaneous stuff collected from over the years everywhere. Lalaith has determined she is going to help them declutter.

Calio: his room in the Dancing Hut was created to his preferences, so it’s gothic styled with high vaulted ceilings and lit by sconces along the walls that are stylized coming out of skulls. There are large windows covered by thick black drapes which overlook a snowy landscape outside (all illusory since they’re in the Dancing Hut). His bed is extremely large (*specifically* large enough for a winter wolf in their wolf form to fit comfortably with a human also on the bed), it’s a four poster with silky black sheets and an excessive number of black and red pillows. On the wall behind the bed is a large painting of an icy landscape with a full moon and an aurora across the sky. He has a book shelf with reading material and a few trinkets. Most importantly, in the mouth of a skull on one of the shelves is a button that makes the bookshelf open, revealing his hidden alters to Norgorber and Urgathoa.

In Grimm Labyrinthus Calio’s room is nearly identical to his room in the Dancing Hut, except the windows all reveal a landscape from different places Calio has been on his journeys: overlooking Rasputin’s prison camp in Russia with the spectral cathedral finally bound to the material plane, a dark icy landscape with a fortress in the distance that Dragonkin swoop in and out of on Triaxus, the bone covered gateway to Whitethrone where he first met Greta, a clearing in Taldor with a portal looming ahead spewing Irriseni winter cold all around.

Draven: she lived in barracks for the last year so she didn’t have the luxury of decorating, and she had to keep her quarters up to a certain standard. Since retiring with Leto and building their own home together, she’s had to figure out what she likes after years of just focusing on being Iomedae’s sword and shield and little else. She keeps some house plants in their room to brighten things up, although she is not very good at keeping them alive. She and Leto both keep their personal weapons and armor stored close at hand—just incase. Their bed is simple, just a regular bed large enough for both of them, nothing fancy, not a four poster or anything like that. Not that they didn’t at least consider a four poster bed, but Draven might have pointed out she’d probably break the posts during *certain* activities given her let’s say above average strength. Leto has a number of figurines on display—Draven thinks they’re cute (and that Leto’s cute when he gets all info dumpy about them). They also have at least one cat, and have little ledges/shelves built for the cat to jump up onto at various points around the walls.

#my ocs #Roland Terrasold #Sai Gwenn #Kiyo Alvara #Calio Caecos #Draven Imani

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jukeboxjulian · 4 years

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✗ closed starter: julian x rory

TW: continued mentions of domestic violence/abuse/assault

Julian knew the life cycle of a bruise intimately well. He’d nursed his fair share of them from inception to death, an unwitting father to hundreds of thousands who lived within the confines of his own body. There was the initial hit – deep red, burning scarlet, the accompanying taste of metal and the shallow gasping of breath. Then came the aftermath – dark purple, a bloody night sky streaked across the skin, pain to the touch. Eventually it faded, a yellow ring waltzing into frame, replacing the tender flesh with something closer to normalcy. And then things went back to normal, the skin healed, free of its markings, as if nothing had ever really transpired at all.

It had been two weeks since the day he’d met Aurora Graham. Knowing Julian, he’d have that date branded into his memory forever – the day he’d met Rory, the day he’d come crawling out of his self-imposed prison and seen the sunlight, the day he’d violated her trust and her body and her boundaries and had watched her leave with one last twirl of her skirt. Like Rory had mentioned that afternoon, his life had somehow split down the middle, the story of his life now composed entirely of a Before Rory and After Rory section. He’d expected After Rory to be full of bright lights and gentle hugs, skipping heartbeats and sugar cookies. And now After Rory had turned into anything but that utopic paradise.

When they’d first met, things seemed too good to be true. They clicked on another level – something cosmic, something visceral, something real beyond belief. There’d been the brush of fingertips, the earthen scent of an alleyway, smudged lipstick and the imprint of her lips against the lightly freckled skin of his shoulder. It had all happened so fast – too fast for someone like Julian, who usually needed weeks to even scratch the surface of another person.

He should’ve known better. That’s the one thought that kept creeping back into Julian’s mind night after night: You should have known better. He was better than this. He was not the boy who couldn’t control himself around a woman. He was not the boy who pushed her past her comfort zone, the one who acted first and asked for permission later. He was not the boy his female friends all talked about – the one who took things that weren’t his, the one who scarred them and left, the one who left wounds that couldn’t ever be fully healed. That was not, and never had been, him.

And yet it’s who he’d become. Julian had dreaded this reality more than anything, the one where the spectral hands of his dad finally coalesced around his neck and choked the last remaining bits of good out of him. He walked through life as a different person now – Julian Porter, son of Dylan. Julian Porter, temperamental, hard to deal with, brilliantly creative but at a cost. Julian Porter, abuser, assaulter, a machine filled to the brim with rage and anger nestled inside the body of someone who took it out on others.

He looked in the mirror and all he could see was his dad’s jaw line – strong, masculine, the jaw women went weak at the knees for. He saw the protruding veins threading up his arms, the same veins that ran up the canvas of his dad’s wrists, the ones that carried the unmistakable reality of his hellish heritage in his blood. He saw his dad’s nose, the one that was still slightly crooked after having been broken on three separate occasions. He saw his dad, fully and completely, blood splattered across his face, jaw clenched tightly. He had become his worst nightmare, and the transformation had happened at the expense of the girl he cared most about in the world.

It had all started out bright red – Rory scrambling out of his arms like a piece of prey trying to get out of the clutches of a predator. He could still see the heat in her cheeks, the tears clinging to the sides of her jade green eyes. He could hear her mumbling, babbling, throwing reasons into the air as she collected her things and left. Rory had left in such a hurry that Julian had found her baby pink hair tie on the ground next to his bed days later.

He’d tasted the blood again that night, felt the searing heat of the wound he’d somehow scratched into his own skin. He didn’t even have her phone number. That was something that had slapped the reality back into Julian – he’d just assaulted a woman he’d barely known for a few hours, a woman he couldn’t even properly apologize to. Rory hadn’t drawn blood as she removed herself from the prison of his arms, but she may as well have, because the aftermath felt exactly the same.

That night Julian had drawn the curtains and tended to the scarlet pain in his heart the only way he knew how. He thanked God for his roommates, who came back and respected his boundaries when he’d merely shaken his head at them and closed his door. At least some people in this house know how to respect boundaries, you fucking monster, he’d thought to himself. Night fell upon San Francisco, the sky dotted with muted stars. He looked up at the heavens, a swirling, dark purple, and felt it swallow him whole from his spot on the balcony.

He’d gone back in and felt the muted orchid bloom behind his irises as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take the past day back. He’d taken down every note that he’d previously taped up to his wall, all the little references his students and family members and friends had given Rory just hours prior. He wanted to apologize to all of them en masse for pulling the wool over their eyes, but it was too late, so he’d put the notes into an old shoebox and shoved them into the back of his closet, right past the black shirt Rory had almost worn to dinner.

The tiger lilies died slowly, agonizingly, their bright orange petals begging for attention that Julian just didn’t have anymore. He’d spent the next few days after that in a mulberry haze, red and purple and all the colors in between, healing as best as he could from the pain he’d inflicted on himself. He went to work, put more notes into the shoebox, let Belle tug along at the leash on walks, her dark, watery eyes looking into his as if saying, “Please step outside, dad. Please stop punishing yourself.”

He finally picked up his guitar a week after Rory had left. The songs had come to him in a flash, dark plum fading into something softer, more tender, a light lilac that only time could bring. Julian had heard the piano keys in his mind one morning and had ignored them, forcing the songs out onto the strings of his guitar instead. Piano was her instrument. He didn’t deserve the ivory anymore, not when he’d almost certainly taint it with splotches of red and black, the same way he’d tainted her. And so the music was scribbled onto lined sheets through an incongruous medium, one that sounded just slightly off for the subject matter. Over the last two weeks, Julian had learned to accept that everything from now on would feel slightly off, now that Rory was gone from his life.

Finally, after a week and a half, signs of life began to emerge from the cocoon Julian had wrapped himself in. He’d started throwing himself into his work, coming up with extra songs to teach the kids about subtraction, their subject of the week. He couldn’t go to Jukebox anymore, so songwriting was the next best thing, and the subject matter felt fitting, anyway. A piece of him was missing now, permanently gone, and he had to live with the guilt of that truth for the rest of his life.

It was time now for him to repent, to speak clearly about his sins and apologize as best as he could. Julian found himself looking for forgiveness everywhere he could – in the few churches he’d stepped into, in the major chords he strummed, in the notes he scribbled out and eventually threw in the trash because they’d never quite express just how sorry he was. He’d mulled the apology over in his mind, turning the words around in his consciousness over and over again, searching for the right thing to tell Rory, but nothing ever did his feelings justice.

After days upon days of serving penance for a crime everyone universally agreed he hadn’t committed, Julian had settled on the package he’d send to Rory. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but he knew he had to do something, anything, to let her know he understood her pain and would do anything to make things up to her. The project had taken the entire weekend, and it still didn’t feel right in his hands, even as he walked it to Jukebox and handed it to Finn, right in the alleyway where he’d kissed Rory a fortnight ago.

Over the weekend, Julian had learned why Zoe paid the employees at Lush $7.95 for a perfectly-made bath bomb. He’d always had a respect for people who made things by hand, but this weekend had imbued in him an undying gratitude for bath bomb creators. He’d probably inhaled more citric acid and cornstarch than he cared to admit, but after hours of tampering with the formula, Julian had three only slightly misshapen vanilla sugar bath bombs to add to his gift basket.

The next part of the gift had come much more easily to him. Chinese food had never been his forte, but Julian had promised himself he’d perfect the recipe for orange chicken and chow mein even if it killed him. Poor Danny, Kevin, and Zoe had eaten at least five different iterations of the recipe, especially since he couldn’t eat the chicken, and he’d made a mental note to make them their favorite foods as thanks for acting as lab rats. Finally, after much trial and error, he’d settled on the perfect recipes. He’d even went and gotten a fancy glass container to deliver the food in instead of his usual, spaghetti sauce splattered Tupperware. It all had to be perfect, or as close to perfect as it possibly could be.

The last part was the easiest of them all. Julian had always frequented the floral shop a few blocks down from his apartment, run by a tiny, old Chinese woman who told the white people of San Francisco that her name was Chloe when her Chinese name was Mei. He’d been paying Mei a visit every month for the past six years, to the point where she’d begun to add a few tiger lilies into his bouquet free of charge. It was an expensive habit to have, but tiger lilies had always reminded him of his mom, and he liked supporting local businesses. Occasionally he’d get other plants and flowers from her – succulents for Finn, roses for Zoe, sunflowers for Danny’s sister, Sarah.

They were good friends now, which meant Mei had immediately been able to pinpoint that something was wrong with Julian when he’d walked in. “No tiger lilies today, Xiao Liwu?” she’d asked, a paper-thin frown settling into her wrinkled skin. She’d given him the nickname – Little Gift in Chinese – after Julian had shown her a picture of the baby panda, Xiao Liwu, that he’d seen at the San Diego Zoo long ago. “You are a little gift to everyone, Julian. Don’t stop being who you are,” she had told him after sticking a free tiger lily in his bouquet all those years ago.

“No tiger lilies today, Mei,” he’d said, the dejection palpable in his tone. Julian wanted to ask her to give the nickname to someone else, someone better, someone who actually was a gift to the people around them. Someone like Rory. But he swallowed his doubts and gave her a hilariously simple run down of what he needed the lush bouquet of baby pink and white peonies for: “I really hurt someone and I need to make it up to them before I hurt them more.” Mei had smiled and given him the flowers free of charge, leaving him with a simple statement: “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Xiao Liwu, even if it flew onto your flowers and started eating them.”

The final touch, the warped, sharp-edged piece de resistance that struck him to his core, was the police report Julian had printed and filled out. Filling out his details came almost too naturally to him – cosmetically the report looked slightly different from Santa Barbara’s version of it, but the innards were all the same, and it took him a little less than a minute to get all his information down. This time, though, he’d put his information in a different set of boxes – the ones labeled “description of suspect”. Brown hair, brown eyes, crooked nose, the spitting image of Santa Barbara’s own Dylan Porter.

And so he’d done it – he’d met Finn in the alleyway and handed him the small wicker basket, complete with bath bombs, pristinely packaged Chinese food, peony bouquet, and the stupid police report Kevin had told him to leave out. He’d left Rory a tiny note, written in his cleanest handwriting, the paper still crumpled slightly at the edges from the tears he hadn’t been able to contain. “Hi, Rory. I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to ever forgive me and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for hurting you. I promise I’ll be better in the future with the boundaries of other people, for you. I never, ever meant to hurt you, and I am infinitely sorry that I did. You really are something special. Please don’t ever stop smiling. X Julian.”

He knew Finn would get the gift to Rory. In fact, he’d probably found her right after going back to the café – this was the time she’d taken her lunch break two weeks ago, and Julian could only hope she’d be craving Chinese food the same way she had that day, if he hadn’t ruined the idea of it for her entirely. It broke his heart knowing he’d inadvertently created a new trigger for someone – that someone wouldn’t be able to enjoy their favorite food or wear their plaid skirt or see tiger lilies the same way anymore. But a part of him had accepted who he’d become. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he handed the gift over and led Belle back onto the sidewalk, guitar slung around his shoulders, dog treats and songwriting notebook in tow.

It was bright out, and for the first time in weeks, Julian welcomed the warmth that illuminated the path before him. The sunshine surrounded him, pale golden like the bruise that had finally started to heal, even if it was still tender to the touch. Today was a new day – a better day, he’d already decided. Perhaps he’d pick up a few more shifts at the animal shelter later today, or he’d make another lasagna to take to the soup kitchen. His momentum was trending upward, and he knew he needed to take advantage of it.

“Excited for play time, pumpkin?” Julian asked Belle, a genuine smile spreading onto his features as Belle looked up at him and woofed. They walked a few minutes past the record store to one of the parks less frequented by tourists and locals alike. It was smaller than the other parks in the area, less decorated and a bit unassuming, but Belle had always loved it more than any of the others. Perhaps she knew her dad needed the solitude.

He found a spot to himself easily and offered a few passersby a half-smile as he fished Belle’s favorite ball out of his backpack. “You ready, muffin? Go get it!” Julian exclaimed, excitement palpable in his voice as he set his things down and wiggled the ball in front of her eyes. Watching the joy creep into Belle always lifted his spirits, and he couldn’t help but beam brightly as he tossed the ball and watched her chase after it at lightning speed. The slightly portly pit bull came trotting back to him with the ball, excitement lighting up her entire face. “Good job, monkey. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

#( threads )#( julian x rory )#auroragraham #did I cry while writing this? yes. go away #Julian Stop Tormenting Yourself 2k20

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

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Athazagoraphobia (Last Part)

She wonders if this is what fire feels like as it splays across skin. The raw patch on her chest tingles painfully as though it is trying to let her know that it is spreading.

She resists the urge to check, in part because she doesn’t want to know but mostly because she doesn’t want to raise suspicions in her father.

Her mind drifts to her fire once more, for as single heartbeat she ponders burning the spot of rot. Maybe, by some miracle, it would burn the infection away.

But she knows that it is too late; the same bruning tickles her hip and lower back.

“We just need to get past them and then we’re home free.” Zirin points. Azula follows the line of her finger to a band of afflicted.

Ozai, with no word of warning, blasts a few of them off the side of the pier. The remaining cluster faces them in unison. “Father!” Azula hisses.

“They’re corpses.” He shrugs. “Don’t tell me that you’re slower and dumber than a corpse.”

He was the one who’d made the impulse decision, yet it is her cheeks that burn with shame.

“She only means that rash decisions are dangers, Fire Lord.” Li comes to her defense.

Before he can snap at Li for her disrespect, Azula mumbles, “let’s just clear the rest of them out.”

Not that her father needs any further prompting.

Zirin is another matter, she scans the docks for a moment before reluctantly attacking. Li lingers on the fringes of the first while Azula sets flame to the neglected wooden pillars that support the dock. Several more hosts dump into the waves where they disappear into the murk. The remaining few shamble closer and Azula’s heart seizes all over again.

The girl’s braid is scraggly and unruly and her shirt is in tatters. Her stomach is wide open and dragging innards. She must have bled out already because the only other thing that trickles from her belly are waving tendrils. In a most morbidly uncanny way, the girl is still beaming from ear to ear as she had in life.

Some manner of undignified and stressed sound escapes Azula’s lips. A pair of cold, wrinkled hands come to cover her eyes, keeping her from inspecting her former friend further. “You don’t have to look at that, princess, you’ve seen enough already.”

She silently thanks Li for the small mercy.

When Li removes her hands, Tylee is gone and her father’s hands are still smoking. He looks at her with a rare expression of sympathy.

It is nearly enough to unravel her. “Let’s just get on one of those boats and get out of here.”

Zirin wanders to the nearest dock.

“Wait!” Azula calls. “Come here.”

Zirin steps back and Azula releases her held breath. The has a churning carpet of silver-blue as though the parasites have eradicated the seaweed and took its place. It clings to the rotting wood in an evil parody. “Let’s use that one. This dock is about to crumble.” Azula lies.

The dock next to it looks just as rickety. But the boat tethered to it, though small, looks sturdy enough.

.oOo.

Azula had never been a fan of the open ocean but today, the salty spray is a breath of fresh air. And there is a certain comfort in knowing that, should she throw up, she can blame it on seasickness rather than infection.

For the first time in a little over a month, she can truly rest easy.

When night falls, she finds that her exhaustion is finally potent enough to overpower the nightly replays of her traumas.

She finds herself out cold.

Her waking is just as unpleasant as she knew it would be. Her belly burns and her chest flares hotter. She finds her sheets sticky with blood. It takes everything in her not to scream. Her blankets are thoroughly soaked and cling to her skin. When she moves them, chunks of skin peel away with it.

Her head reels with a new found sense of fear.

She wonders how Li is faring.

She sneaks on deck and cleanses her disease riddled body with ocean spray. It stings like hell but she can’t let her father see that much blood.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” Zirin muses.

“Finally?”

“It’s been three days.”

Azula bites her lip, her anxiety swelling that much further. “Three days…” she repeats. Zirin nods. She rubs her palms against her eyes, feeling thrice as stressed. “How is Li?”

“Well enough, princess.” Li declares.

She wanders to the bow of the ship where she finds her father at the wheel. “Ah, you’re awake. Would you like to take the wheel?”

She peers at the maps he has spread out and nods. She could use a distraction. He pulls up a chair for her. She takes her seat and falls silent. Ozai’s hand is on her shoulder. She flinches as a stabbing sensation fires off in her belly.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks in a manner that suggests more annoyance than it does concern.

She swallows and shakes her head. “My leg is just bothering me. I’ll cope.” She has no choice but to do so.

Ozai smiles, “I raised you well. Your brother would have fallen as soon as his bone split.”

“I see another ship!” Zirin declares from the mast. “Should we check it out? There might be other survivors.

Azula doesn’t like it.

Doesn’t trust it.

The boat is just floating there, directionless. Bobbing without aim. “It’s a dead ship.” She calls up. A new feeling of dread rises, knowing that the parasites have already reached the seas. It is an ill omen.

An exchanged look with her father tells her that her father shares her thoughts.

Not that it matters, her body is already decaying.

She is already dead.

Whatever control she may have had over the hosts and parasites, the possible answers and cure will die with her.

She takes her father’s hand and squeezes.

.oOo.

It has been nearly a week since they drifted away from the dead ship. Li has taken to ranting about how this must be the Spirit World’s way of punishing for the war and the disharmony it has created. “Sozin used that comet to disrupt the balance of the world and the spirits used it to take vengeance.” She declares again.

Azula’s heart sinks; the old woman must be slipping. Or maybe it is simply natural for her mind to turn towards more divine explanations. Azula doesn’t particularly believe that the spirits have the power to embed disease into a comet. Especially not with an Avatar to act as a buffer.

She doesn’t bother debating spiritual matters with Li. She hasn’t the energy for it and she would like to keep Li as a companion, especially now that her father has taken to avoiding her. It stings worse than the raw patches that have finally reached her neck and face.

She thinks that she has grown used to the searing feeling that they bring. Perhaps the rot has eaten away the nerves in her cheek.

Her leg is nearly healed, but the ship doesn’t provide her with many places to walk to. But she is restless so she takes to pacing from one end of the deck to the next. She holds her crutches just in case her leg decides to lock. She wanders below deck to wash her face. The action is rather pointless, serving only to make her feel like she has some semblance of hygiene.

The face reflected back at her is red, flushed by the warmth of infection. She is beginning to think that the parasites like the heat and that, that is why they have imbedded themselves within her. She can burn them away, but perhaps freezing them out would be better. She had been a fool to delay getting to the tribes for so long. And for what? A man who can’t even look at her anymore. Azula fumbles through medical supplies until she comes to gauze and bandages.

She delicately covers up the oozing patch before returning to the deck. The exposed parts of her face are met with significantly nippier air that tosses her tangled locks all about. “Good morning, father.”

The man doesn’t turn around.

“We are nearing the tribes…”

“Do you think I am a fool?” He asks.

“No, father.”

“You hide an infection from me and then you imply that I can’t tell when we are close to our destination.” He would strike her if he weren’t so disgusted by the notion of making contact with her.

“I only meant to start a conversation.” She mumbles.

He waves her off.

“I’m dying, father. I want…” what does she want. “I want you to care about me before I do. I want somebody too…”

He holds up a silencing hand.

A friendlier hand falls upon her shoulder. “Come on, princess, it’s chilly up here, lets get you inside.”

“Before what!?” Azula snaps. “Before I catch a cold.”

Li doesn’t even flinch. “Before that man takes the fight out of you.”

“That man is my father.”

“No father would treat his girl like that.” Li grumbles.

Zirin climbs down the mast, “I can see the main land.” She declares. “But with all of these glaciers to navigate it can take another week or so to reach it.”

Azula is in no rush anymore. “Thank you, Zirin. I’m sure that my father would be interested.”

“It’s almost over, princess. The journey is almost through.” Li reassures softly as Zirin saunters off. Azula isn’t sure if she is referring to their days of sailing or their days of living.

“Yes.” Azula acknowledges. She stares off at the very distant landmass. She isn’t entirely sure that Zirin hasn’t mistaken a particularly large glacier for the tribes.

.oOo.

The auroras, she has always heard, are stunning.

Mystifying.

But Azula finds them eerie and unsettling.

They blaze across the sky with spectral fingers that reminder her all too much of the ones weaving in and out of her festering skin. They lick and lash at the cosmos, reaching out to touch each and every star as the parasites had made contact with people.

It is more than that though. Azula can’t place it, but she thinks that there is something in there, hiding between the teal and green curtains.

Something sinister.

Something that has touched the Northern Water Tribe in the same way that Sozin’s Comet had breached the Fire Nation.

She swears that, when Li and Zirin stop exchanging conspiracy theories, she can hear whispers in the lights.

Swears that the parasites flick and flit in time with the cosmic display.

Azula shudders.

She hopes that her mind is simply clinging onto residual paranoia. Not that paranoia isn’t due. She retreats to the semi-safety of below deck.

She doesn’t return to the deck until the auroras are gone.

They are a day away from the Northern Water Tribe and Azula can’t rid herself of unpleasant tingles of fear. Sunlight glints off of the snowy landscape before them.

“Are you going to slow us down?” Ozai asks.

Azula bends and unbends her leg. “I don’t think so.” She thanks Agni that she can walk again. She had anticipated her father having to carry her through the snow. In current she knows that he will sooner leave her behind than come close to her.

His question was a fool’s question; she doesn't need to slow them down, the sheer amount of snow and lack of equipment does that.

The port is close enough to the city that Azula doesn’t fear that they won’t make it but comfort is a lost luxury. Azula drifts closer to Li the nearer that they get.

“Shit, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Zirin declares.

Her optimism is somewhat vexing.

Azula scans the faces of the guards atop the icy wall. They are stony and unforgiving as the terrain they overlook. If they are guarding the entrance this readily, it must be a sanctuary. Still, her unease doesn’t subside.

“We’re survivors seeking sanctuary!” Zirin calls up to them. “And warmth. Warmth would be great too.”

Azula shivers to herself.

Warmth.

Safety.

That would be heavenly.

The men exchange glances. And Azula shares a look with Li, her look of weary resignation is mirrored by Azula. She knows exactly how this is going to end. “Search them for infection!” One of the men declares.

Li squeezes Azula’s hand.

Already, they have noticed the distance between the two of them and Zirin and Ozai. “Which of you are the healthy ones?”

Ozai hesitates none before gesturing to himself and Zirin.

“Inspect them.” Says the head guard.

“Strip.” Commands his partner. Zirin wastes no time. Ozai on the other hand scowls. “A Fire Lord doesn’t strip before peasants.”

“But a refugee does.” The second guard replies. “Strip or get back on your boat.”

Azula turns the other way as her father drops his robes. She waits a few minutes after the man calls, “clear” to turn back around. “Put them in the quarantine quarters until we are certain that they won’t develop symptoms.”

The gates open and Ozai and Zirin are beckoned inside.

“Father…” Azula says.

He has the decency to look back, but no more than that.

A normal person might cry, but Azula finds that she has no more tears left. She has nothing but a solemn acceptance. She still has the dignity to hold her head high. The only warmth in her body and soul radiates from the infection.

She watches her father disappear into the safe-haven. She wonders how long he will last; how long they will tolerate his intolerance and malicious intent.

Flurries throw themselves violently at her as she stares at the wall. At the glorious sanctuary that she can’t enter. Even if they let her in, she likes to think that she has too much honor to bring a plague to the last cluster of humanity.

“We’re alone…” she trails off.

Li nods. “I told you that I would accompany you until my last breath, princess.”

Just before she pulls her eyes away from the wall, she sees him. Her heart falters. He looks at her with pity and...regret? For a moment, she thinks that he going to plead with them to let her in. To give her a chance. But he doesn’t know that she isn’t contagious--she has a thought; a bitter acknowledgement that the cold might be enough to kill the parasites. That with time, the patches of rot might heal.

She opens her mouth to try to convince him of this.

He is not paying attention to her, other than a nod in her direction.

She holds her breath and waits.

His attention is fully on her again, his face grim.

“I’m sorry that I left you there.” Zuko calls down.

Once again she opens her mouth to speak. She doesn’t have the chance before one of the guards lifts his arms, dragging with them a large spike of ice. Azula’s vision goes hazy, she hears Li’s body thud next to her.

She looks up at Zuko in shock more than anything else. He winces and mouths something akin to, “she’s not dead yet.” And to her directly he says, “I’m sorry.”

A red spray soils the otherwise pristine white.

Suddenly it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Nothing hurts.

There is nothing.

She has time for a single parting thought. A thought that she is free.

Finally free. Free of torment and fear and paranoia. Free of her own mind and of that which plagues her. Zuko had left her chained up and the parasites had made a prison of her own body. But Zuko has set her free.

Her decayed cheek hits the snow and her body goes still.

With nowhere else to go, a cluster of pulsating silver-blue wisps burrow beneath the snow.

The strong adapt.

#Avatar #Azula #Lo & Li #Ozai #Zirin #Zuko #Fanfiction

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teamoliv-archive · 4 years

Text

Cutscene: New Beginnings, New Dangers

“Well, I guess we have good news and bad news. Good news is we get to start Ivory and Molly’s huntress career early. Bad news, we’re surrounded.” The group that now consisted of Team OLIV, Lapis’s younger sister Lazuli, and Ivory’s former partner in crime Molly stood in a ring surrounded by far more Grimm than they had anticipated when they were told of a ‘swarm of monsters a team would be useful to take down’. Swarm was a bit more apt than anyone really was comfortable with; there were dozens of spider-like creatures that would let out screeches as they crawled closer and those jaws looked poisonous. A team they were, but professionals they were not. This was going to take some creative teamwork.

“Alright, everyone, split up and take a section!”

Violet turned toward one section of the creatures as they charged. She flared out her whips and hurled herself upward and over the Grimm, a flurry of cracks and blows staggered several of the creatures while surrounding ones were blown apart one by one.

“I’ve got backup, keep pushing!” Ivory stuck herself in a kneeling pose, braced by one of her targets locking her in place while she carefully turned and blasted at any Grimm that got too close to their area.

“Got it!” She landed on one of the spider-creatures and jumped again, shooting at the grounded monster, causing a spit of bile to misfire and hit the ground. She aimed down and a brilliant flash followed her next shot, blinding the pack with a loud popping sound.

Lapis kept to a defensive, leaving his shield up as he pushed forward slowly. He saw the giant buzzsaw contraption of Briar’s drive through the spiders with her in it, chopping off legs and sometimes abdomens as she passed, but many were making their way to him. He blocked and parried with his shield and weapon, shoving any away that tried to leap at him.

“You know, I could use a little help here!”

“I got it, I got it, I got it, I got it!” Molly ran her weapon through the pack and with a pivot, flinging herself toward Lapis with her hand out. “Tilt-a-Whirl!”

“Wait, what’s Tilt-a-WOOOOAAAH!” Before he finished his statement, Molly grabbed his arm and let the momentum swing them around, throwing her in a circle with her saw being carried in the wide arc to batter and slice the surrounding Grimm. Lapis only had time to brace himself and keep from falling over from the force before he put his weight behind his arm and flung her off into the distance and into an oncoming second wave. She landed frustratingly expertly with the saw’s teeth biting into the oncoming Grimm and her perched on in the inside and waving.

“Woo! Let’s hear it for team attacks!”

Lapis stood up and popped his shoulder to make sure it was still in place. “You’re supposed to plan that out ahead of time! That was my shield arm, too...”

“We got ‘em, didn’t we? Besides, everyone else is doing fine.”

Lazuli watched “her” section of Grimm tangled up in a web. They weren’t dead or even injured, but they were busy. She looked up at the dizzying array woven through the sparse trees around them where Onyx was lounging.

The web tightened as Onyx looked down at Hamelin’s sister with an expectant look. Would that he had the vocal strength to throw his voice again, he’d have reminded her to start firing. Despite her time as the Arena’s prisoner honing her skills and unlocking her semblance, she had little to no experience with Grimm yet.

He tightened it again as the Grimm tried ti wiggle free. Sure he made it look effortless, but he wasn’t going to be able to hold this forever. One creature gets loose and tries to skitter up his wires to get to him. He dodges and rakes his claws around to dispatch it, but now the rest were getting free.

Lazuli wasn’t used to this implicit teamwork that her brother’s team did. She’d have to think of a way to handle what was about to be a rain of spider Grimm. Shooting them directly was only doing so much. She looks up to Onyx and realizes there was at least one thing she could do- but it would be a long shot. “Hey! You trust me, right!?” Onyx clung to his web and gives her an incredulous look. “I need an answer! Are we friends or not?” She heard a barely audible and scraping sound that closely resembled “Yes, now do something!” before she closes her eyes for a moment and springs into action.

“Good enough.” With visible effort, she jumped from wire to wire as carefully as she could before her aura began to glow and manifest a figure next to her, connected at the chest by a spectral chain. Said chain connected to the duplicate of Onyx wasn’t nearly as strong as others were. In fact this was probably her weakest one, but she hoped that would change with her time with Lapis’s team over time. From what she managed to figure out her semblance was strictly related to personal bonds and her duplicates were only as strong and the friendship and trust between her and the one she was trying to recreate. The duplicate Onyx grasped her hand and helped hurl her into the nest. Lazuli swung her weapon with precision, taking out spiders as she ascended while the duplicate followed suit and kept her stable. It couldn’t mimic his weapon’s finer details but she managed to clear out the web before slipping on one more wire and falling.

“Uh oh...” The duplicate faded as she lost focus. To make matters worse the mess of wires weren’t easy to grab. She fell about almost to the bottom before something stopped her fall.

“You need to work on your balance.” Onyx’s scratchy voice responds, having already sped to the bottom to catch her and set her back down.

A loud bang signaled the end of the swarm as Ivory took out one more that was about to lunge at Violet. With the group calming down and brushing themselves off, Violet spoke up. “I think we did it.” Then the rustling got louder, followed by a tree melting.

“Oh right, the big one...” An enormous version of the spiders they had fought before crawled into view, venom dripping from its fangs.

“Everyone get ready!” The group takes up fighting poses again before a translucent stalactite crashes from above into the creature.

Onyx was the first to panic, followed by Ivory. The rest looked more confused and stunned. A figure stood behind them with a stack of paper bunched up in one arm and a quill in the other.

“Pardon the interruption, but my partner and I have business to discuss with the lot of you. I have to say between the number, the open job searching, and your.. distinctive features,” The man glanced accusingly at Molly’s massive buzzsaw weapon, “You are almost comically easy to find.” The Grimm roared again as it recovered from the blow to the head. The man just sighed and with several blindingly fast strokes of his quill, spiked chains materialized from around him and entangled the large Grimm.

“Let’s not waste time. Hari, get rid of that thing.”

“No problem.” A larger man, this one covered in scars shown off by a small vest with a combination of brass knuckles and gauntlets followed close behind. He charged the creature and slammed his fist right into the monster’s jaw, causing it to reel from a dust explosion. Several more blows followed, assisted by more of those aura swipes as the other man kept sketching on his paper. With one more strong blow to the head, the Grimm fell to the ground before it could do anything.

Hari turned to face the six. “See that kids? That’s how the pros do it. Call it a free lesson courtesy of Uncle Hari. Auroras, why don’t you explain this one?”

“Who are these guys?” Lapis muttered to himself. They were easily outclassed. Professional huntsmen had been sent for them? Was this because of Briar and Reynard?

Lazuli cautiously stepped forward. “Who are you? You said you had ‘business’. What do you want with us?”

“Auroras Hallward and Hari Lackey of Blood Brothers LLC,” Auroras responded, “We were sent to locate and escort you to our client. You are of great interest to a few interested parties. Normally confidentiality would prevent me from explaining who that is. However, I have been given leave to extend a more public offer first.”

“You’ve got a couple of options here.” Hari points specifically to Team OLIV, “I’m pretty sure your parents are all worried about you kids wandering around on another continent. We’re here to take you home and put you to work. Onyx, Ty’s got an offer for the four of you. No hard feelings or anything. Come on, your old man’s got a lot planned and he’s willing to give you all jobs.”

Onyx stared hard at Hari. Those names were familiar- old teammates of his father before he turned to business. He always did wonder why he had never met them before while Cobalt Ymir was around. Ivory spoke up instead.

“You want us to believe Tyrael Cheshire wants all of us? After what happened to Lilac...” She pauses for Onyx’s sake. She didn’t want to reopen the old wound; it was still his sister after all.

“Wait.” Lapis stepped between Auroras and Lauzli, “You said four of us. What happens to Briar and my sister?”

“That is our other job here.” He stares at Molly with keen intent, adjusting his glasses. “Your mother misses you, you know. She wants to accept you back and you’re welcome to take your friend with you.”

Molly’s pulse raced. Of course Darcie would come looking for her. Why didn’t she think of that? Part of her was scared of how she would have reacted to Jade’s death. She had taken it pretty hard herself, but she had the comfort of being swept up in finally being a huntress. Something was still wrong. “Why would she send mercenaries instead of her own people to find us?”

“We were already going this way and it’s basically getting paid twice for the same job.”

Lazuli looked to Molly worryingly. “Y-You can go if you want, but I need to stay with my brother. Family’s more important than friends sometimes... I.. I get it.”

“Wh-What, no! That’s not it! C-Can’t you just tell her I’m okay? I’ll come back once I finish-” Whatever she was doing.

Violet gave a hard look to Hari at his comment. “Did you really talk to anyone besides Onyx’s dad? How do we know you’re telling the truth here? My dad gave us his blessing to get out here and get our licenses.”

“Ty’s the man with the offer. Besides, Auroras made the deal. Talk to him.”

“Perhaps I should rephrase. Our job, as we were paid to do, is to locate and bring the lot of you two the parties that want you. The offer is a generous one that our employers took time out to offer you. However, your compliance is not a required factor. If you choose to resist, we’ll simply have to take you there by force.”

“And there it is... Everyone get ready for a fight!”

“Can we handle these guys?”

“I don’t think we have a choice. We have to try!”

#teamoliv #cutscene #Onyx Cheshire - Overheard Conversations #Lapis Hamelin - Overheard Conversations #Ivory Reynard - Overheard Conversations #Violet Goodfellow - Overheard Conversations #Molly Briar - Cutscene #Lazuli Hamelin - Cutscene #Auroras Hallward - Cutscene #Hari Lackey - Cutscene

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aurora-daily · 5 years

Text

AURORA for Interview magazine

Interview: Aurora for Interview by Sarah Osei (April 18th, 2019)

A different kind of human

Aurora’s music is perhaps best described as a love letter to the Earth. Disarmingly honest, it imagines a future where we are all connected.

Empathic and sensitive, yet powerful, Aurora is a different kind of human, and definitely a different kind of musician. With her haunting and truthful vocals, layered over spectral instumentals, her catalogue of music has confidently made hits out of songs that are not conventionally commercial. From her debut EP Running With the Wolves, to her albums All my Demons Greeting Me as a Friend and Infections of a Different Kind (Step 1), Aurora has established herself as talented and wise beyond her years. Now she is getting ready to release her fourth album, A Different Kind of Human (Step 2), and planting a seed of hope.

SARAH OSEI When did you start making music?

AURORA I started making music when i was 6 years old, and it started turning into real songs when I was 9. It was just a natural thing for me. I had the most fun when i wrote music.

SO How did you go from living in Os, a little town in Norway, to being one of Norway’s biggest musical exports?

A I have no idea. It was never a childhood dream, so I don’t really remember so well how it all came to be! I feel like it just happened, and I just accepted it. Now I enjoy it, because my words have power, and I like that.

SO Is there a particular smell that reminds you of home?

A I love the smell of wet asphalt and wet grass. Cinnamon and lavender also remind me a lot of my mother and my sisters.

SO You recently moved from your hometown to the city, is it harder to be creative in the city?

A I find it easy to be creative anywhere! It’s not really connected to places with me, it’s more connected to a place that lies within me wherever I am.

SO Your music always carries an incredibly powerful social message. Why is it important for you to create music that serves a greater purpose?

“WITHIN ALL OF US THERE IS SO MUCH POWER”

A I feel like this life is such a strange thing, all things are just temporary. And in the long time that we people have existed it feels nice that during the little second I was on the earth I did something that meant something. That makes me feel safe, almost like I can never truly die, because music with purpose latches onto us in a different way than most music. It stays.

SO Do you think about the listener when you make music?

A I think about people sometimes when I make music. Like ‘What does the world need in music?’, ‘What sorrow could i comfort?’ But now I’m in a state of being, where I write a lot about what angers me, and what pleases me, what questions no one answers, and what problems lie in front of our noses yet most of us don’t really see. So it’s like a very nice emotional way to speak to the world, so we can all join forces and kick ass.

SO What can you tell us about your album A Different Kind of Human?

A It’s very big, in meaning and in its mission. I have big hopes for what it might do to at least one listener on this planet. I want it to inspire and to intrigue. There is so much hidden in it, and I’m excited for the people to dive into it, and absorb all of it.

SO So this album is a continuation of last year’s Infections of a Different Kind. Can you tell us about the progression from that album to this one?

A Both Step I and Step II are part of a long process, they are two different parts of a process I want people to go through while listening to it. Neither of them is the beginning or the end, just two very important steps of the whole process. It’s all just become a bit bigger. rather than only you, and me, it’s all of us. It’s political, it’s emotional, it’s about change and preservation. It’s about everything, and also nothing. It’s hard to explain like this, with black writing on white paper. but you will all find your own meaning in it, and in no way could your meaning ever be wrong.

“HOPE IS CONTAGIOUS, AND I THINK IT’S TIME TO LET OURSELVES BE INFECTED.”

SO Is there a track on the album that is particularly close to you?

A Track 8 throughout my career is always the most important track.

O Your song ‘The Seed’ is dedicated to our planet and talks about climate change. A lot of us really want things to change, at the same time we keep polluting the Earth we love. How should we address this hypocrisy?

A I think it’s time to really put those small luxuries aside, and find some nice aspects in life which actually do something to help. There is so much you could do do help because within all of us there is so much power. I would recommend everyone to watch “Our Planet” (on Netflix), it’s a very gentle way of just showing the beauty this world offers us, and telling us to do what is right, not in a blaming or negative way. And that is the way to inspire people, i think.

SO Is it important to have hope all the time?

A I think it is. Hope is like a flame, that even when it’s not there, there is always a way to make it appear again. It’s wild, and uncontrollable, and it could move across the whole world with the speed of light, if we just have the right source of inspiration. Hope is contagious, and i think it’s time to let ourselves be infected.

#aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews #step 2 #ioadk

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ravenclawlitza · 7 years

Photo

❛ kelana teken'ep, drow warlock of the seeker

original character for DUNGEONS & DRAGONS fifth edition

STR 10 / +0 / +0 • DEX 16 / +3 / +3 • CON 14 / +2 / +2 INT 13 / +1 / +1 • WIS 16 / +3 / +3 • CHA 18 / +4 / +4

HP: 10 • AC: 14 • LEVEL: 1 • HD: 1d8 • PROF: +2 SPEED: 30ft • LANGUAGES: common, elvish, undercommon ARMOR: leather • PROFICIENCIES: harp

skills:

STR: +0 athletics

DEX: +3 acrobatics • +3 sleight of hand • +3 stealth

INT: +3 arcana* • +1 history • +1 investigation • +3 nature* • +1 religion

WIS: +3 animal h. • +5 insight* • +3 medicine • +5 perception* • +3 survival

CHA: +4 deception • +4 intimidation • +4 performance • +4 persuasion

drow traits:

DARKVISION: you have superior vision in dark and dim conditions. you can see in dim light within 120 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. you can’t discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.

FEY ANCESTRY: you have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can’t put you to sleep.

TRANCE: you don’t need to sleep, instead meditating deeply, remaining semi-conscious, for four hours a day. while meditating, you can dream after a fashion; such dreams are actually mental exercises that have become reflexive through years of practice. after resting in this way, you gain the same benefit that a human does from 8 hours of sleep.

SUNLIGHT SENSITIVITY: you have disadvantage on attack rolls and perception checks that rely on sight when you, the target of your attack, or whatever you are trying to perceive is in direct sunlight.

DROW MAGIC: you know the dancing lights cantrip. when you reach third level, you can cast faerie fire once per long rest. when you reach fifth level, you can cast darkness once per long rest, using charisma as your spellcasting ability..

DROW WEAPON TRAINING: you have proficiency with rapiers, shortswords, and hand crossbows.

warlock abilities:

SHIELDING AURORA: you can invoke the seeker's power to protect you from harm. as a bonus action, you create a whirling aurora of brilliant energy that swirls around you. until the end of your next turn, you gain resistance to all damage, and if a hostile creature ends its turn within 10 feet of you, it takes radiant damage equal to your warlock level + your charisma modifier. you can use this feature once per short or long rest.

spellcasting:

SPELLS: you know 2 cantrips and 2 first level spells, and have 1 first level spell slot.

SPELL SAVE DC: 14

SPELL ATTACK MODIFIER: +6

cantrips:

DANCING LIGHTS: one action, verbal / somatic / a bit of phosphorus or wychwood or a glowworm, 120 foot range, up to one minute with concentration. you create up to four torch-sized lights within range, appearing as torches or lanterns or glowing orbs, or combine them into one vaguely humanoid form of medium size, each light shedding dim light in a 10 foot radius. as a bonus action on your turn, you can move the lights up to 60 feet to a new spot within range. each light must be within 20 feet of another light created by this spell, and a light winks out if it exceeds the spell's range.

ELDRITCH BLAST: one action, verbal / somatic, 120 foot range, instantaneous. make a ranged spell attack +6 against the target to deal 1d10 force damage.

MAGE HAND: one action, verbal / somatic, 30 foot range, one minute duration. a spectral, floating hand appears at a point you choose within range, lasting for the duration or until you dismiss it as an action. it vanishes if it is ever more than 30 feet away from you or if you cast this spell again. you can use your action to control it, moving it up to 30 feet each time you use it. the hand can manipulate an object, open an unlocked door or container, stow or retrieve an item from an open container, or pour the contents out of a vial, though it can't attack, activate magical items, or carry more than 10 pounds.

spells:

EXPEDITIOUS RETREAT: one bonus action, verbal / somatic, self, up to ten minutes with concentration. when you cast this spell, and then as a bonus action on each of your turns until the spell ends, you can take the dash action.

FEATHER FALL: one reaction, verbal / a small feather or piece of down, 60 foot range, one minute duration. when you or a creature within range falls, choose up to five falling creatures within range to slow their rate of descent to 60 feet per round until the spell ends. if a creature lands before the spell ends, it takes no falling damage and can land on its feet.

weapons:

RAPIER: +5 to attack, 1d8+3 piercing, finesse

2 DAGGERS: +5 to attack, 1d4+3 piercing, light, finesse, thrown 20/60

equipment:

CLOTHING: traveler’s clothes

BACKPACK: a bedroll, 10 days rations, a tinderbox, a waterskin, a mess kit, a component pouch, 10 torches, a harp, a necklace of ivory worth about 10 gold, a poorly wrought map of her community’s location, a pouch containing 5 gold, 50 feet of hempen rope

background:

FAR TRAVELER: her accent, mannerisms, figures of speech, and appearance mark her as foreign, and she easily gains the interest of scholars and others intrigued by far off lands, including important figures such as noble lords and merchant princes.

PERSONALITY: sweet, gentle, and curious by nature, she begins and ends her day with small traditional rituals that are unfamiliar to those around her.

IDEAL: as someone new to these strange lands, she is cautious and respectful in her dealings, but eager to learn all she can from the kindly folk she meets along the way. ( lawful good )

BOND: her goddess and patron is a comfort to her so far from home.

FLAW: she sometimes pretends not to understand the local language in order to avoid interactions she would rather not have.

#d&d character #drow #kelana #warlock #the seeker #far traveler

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