#and in that sense Ophelia is also her dark future; what could happen if she started to compromise | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goddessofeternity · 3 years

Text

Love Amidst the Darkness

Chapter 7: Duran

Althea opened her eyes and deeply inhaled the scent of roses. She looked over at her bedside table and saw dozens of vases of roses. She sat up in bed just as Marina walked into the room.

“Oh!” Marina dropped the vase of flowers she was carrying. “Althea…”

“Your Majesties!” Marina shouted, running down the halls. “She’s awake!”

Althea silently listened to the sound of running feet getting closer to her room. Her parents stormed into the room, her mother rushed forward to hug her tightly. Her father wrapped them both in his arms, kissing the top of her head. Althea just stayed silent.

“Oh Althea...my sweet girl,” her mother smiled. “You’ve been asleep so long...we...we didn’t know when you would wake up.”

“After the attack at the tournament,” her father started. “You fell unconscious just outside the kingdom. You have been asleep for two weeks. The doctors have said the trauma caused your body to shut down.” The events of the incident started replaying in her head again. The sheer terror she felt at seeing the creature, and the sense of relief that Robin-

“T-The knight...that was there...w-with me…” Althea bit her lip as tears started running down her face. Her mother sighed sadly and wiped her tears away.

“I’m sorry my sweet...but he died,” Hestia said. “I’m so sorry that you had to witness that.”

“We held the funeral for the fallen knights just last week.” Her father said sadly. “It was a hard day.”

“W-What happened?” Her parents both shared a look, debating if they should tell their daughter anything else in her fragile state. Queen Hestia gives King Kyros an encouraging smile, and he takes a seat on Althea’s other side.

“After you were all escorted away, Zacharias and I took up arms against the beast.” He begins frowning a bit at the memory. “The knights also joined us in the fight...it took some time but eventually we managed to kill it. Although...we didn’t realize that another beast had gone after all of you. We immediately charged after it but...by the time we got there...two of the knights were already dead. You...you were on the ground covered in blood, completely unconscious. I...I thought you were dead.”

Queen Hestia places her hand on his and gives him a gentle smile. He sighs and kisses her hand. He runs his fingers through Althea’s hair and smiles at her, which she returns.

“But...you weren’t...for that I thank the gods.” He says. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you or your mother.” A knock at the door had all three royals looking up. Marina slowly peeks in.

“You have visitors that were wondering if they could see you.” Marina smiles over her shoulder. “They are quite anxious.”

“Oh...they can come in.” Althea answers.

Marina steps aside as Aileen charges in the room and jumps on her bed. Fiona walks in holding a bouquet of more roses. Evelyn is close behind completely red faced with swollen red eyes. Her parents follow close behind.

“Oh...hello Aileen...thank you for the flowers,” Althea smiles, giving her a hug. “Thank you Fiona...oh Evelyn don’t cry...I’m alright.” Queen Ophelia walks over and hugs her tightly and King Zacharias pulls her in for a hug as well.

“I’m so glad you’re ok Althea!” Queen Ophelia cries. “When I heard I was so terrified. I didn’t know what was happening! Oh I thought I was gonna go into labor!”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t, my love,” King Zacharias smiles at Althea. “We are incredibly happy to see you well.” They conversed for a bit longer before letting Althea rest a bit. Althea snuggled into her warm blankets and sighed. All of that...horror shouldn’t have happened. The world was supposed to be peaceful. The times for wars and violence were long over. So why...why did everything go so wrong? It was supposed to be fun and exciting. Why did people have to die? Would she have to live in fear of everything around her? Althea curled up under her blankets as tears streamed down her face, and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

♛

Althea squirmed in her throne as people came to give her well wishes. Evelyn and her family returned to Dragleic, and Althea was missing their company. Her people were overloading the courtyard with gifts for her. The knights were checking the gifts thoroughly as if they were dangerous. She never realized how many people were in the kingdom until that day. She appreciated the many well wishes and gifts, so she smiled and thanked the people, silently wishing the day would wrap up soon.

♛

Althea sat in the courtyard after it was cleared out. The afternoon sun beaming down on her made her feel incredibly well after being stuck inside so long. The sounds of clanking metal made her open her eyes and look to her left. The knights were making their usual rounds. As she watched them a sinking feeling washed over her. She didn’t even realize that she hadn’t seen Duran or either of his friends since she woke up. She stood up quickly and walked through the halls to find her parents.

As she walked past the windows, she spotted a familiar head of dark brown hair, She slowed down and gave a relieved sigh as she saw Duran, Honora, and Liam. All three of them were practicing with the other knights. She placed her hands on the windowsill and leaned out a little to get a better look.

“Careful princess…”

Althea let out a startled yelp as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Lord Derrick smiled at her as he gently pulled her back. “You really shouldn’t lean out of windows like that princess...it’s really dangerous.”

“Oh of course...t-thank you Lord Derrick,” she smiled sheepishly.

“I’m just happy to help,” he chuckled. His hand still on her shoulder, rubbing it slowly. She laughed uneasily and moved away from his touch. She looked down the halls as Lord Derrick just stared at her. He was making her a bit uncomfortable, she cleared her throat a little to signal that she wanted some personal space. Lord Derrick continued to stand there, all he did was tilt his head to the side.

“That’s strange…” He suddenly said.

“Hmm what’s strange?”

“No...you look so much like your mother,” he said chuckling. “All the way down to the tips of your hair.” He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, watching the soft strands run through his fingers. Althea moved back against the window and saw that the knights had since left, when she looked back Lord Derrick had moved closer.

“Well...your face has the same shape as your father, and you both share the same nose.”

“L-Lord Derrick...I...I need to get to my lessons, i-if you’ll excuse me.” Althea moves around him but he grabs her hand. Althea feels her heart race as she feels his sweaty palms, the feeling of his large sweaty hands makes her skin crawl.

“Princess-”

“Lord Derrick...the king has been looking for you.” Lord Derrick immediately loses his grip and Althea feels a sense of relief as Marina is standing at the end of the hallway. Marina walks closer to them and stands in front of Althea, blocking his view of her.

“Oh Lady Marina...I was just asking the princess where her father was.”

“Mmhmm...come along princess...your teacher has arrived.” Marina shuffles Althea along, but she could still feel his gaze on her back. Marina stops walking along and Althea stops.

“Are you alright Althea?”

“Y-Yes I am.”

“If he did anything to you...anything at all you must let me know.”

“N-No...I’m fine…”

Marina gives her a look but doesn’t press the issue as she wraps Althea into a tight hug. Althea blushes and hugs her back. Everything just seemed strange, the kingdom felt like it was changing, even the people seemed different. Her parents seemed on edge all the time as well. It made her worry about the future, the future always seemed so clear, but after what happened at the tournament, everything felt scary. Now it made her feel on edge as well.

After her lessons, Althea watched from an open window as the fountain was being fixed. The statue was completely new...and it was of her and her parents . It was beautiful just as the other one was. Althea sighed bored once again, the builders made it bigger than the last one. The night breeze was comforting after a long day when everything was quiet. A movement down the outer courtyard made her look, but she quickly looked away. Sometimes her curiosity got the best of her, and she usually regretted it. Although, she just wanted to have a quick look. So, her eyes traveled back down and she squinted a little as she tried to figure out what or who it was. She stood up a little straighter as she saw that it was Duran. He seemed to be patrolling, but he was all alone. Althea looked down the empty hallways and decided to know where he was going. Lifting up her skirts, she descended the stairs and took the back stairs so no one would see her.

As she got to the bottom of the steps she peeked around and saw him standing at the fountain. He had taken off his helmet and was looking into the fountain. His hair blew in the wind, and Althea thought he looked so valiant. She sneezed a little and moved back as he turned to look.

“Is someone there?”

Althea held her hand over her mouth as a fierce blush rushed across her face. She didn’t really see why she was hiding. She had no reason to be hiding. Although, for some reason she didn’t want to be found. She did want to ask him about how he was since the incident, and if his friend Honora was alright. Although, she couldn’t bring herself to come out, so she quickly ran away. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down as Duran stood at the spot where she was at. Althea moved back as he looked up. She ran up several more flights of stairs to her room. Marina looked at her oddly as she went to her bath. Althea made the other handmaidens leave out as she took off her dress. She sank in the water and blew bubbles as Marina walked in.

“Althea...is something wrong?” Althea looked up at Marina’s smiling face, and she looked out the window and blew more bubbles as she sunk under the water. Marina just giggled and shook her head watching her pout under the water.

“I’m fine Marina...just thinking about some things,” Althea replied, finally resurfacing. “I just want to enjoy my bath.”

“Of course princess...I’ll be waiting with your nightgown when you get out.” Althea smiled at her as she walked out and ran her fingers through her hair. She shuddered a bit as she thought about how Lord Derrick touched her hair, and how it disturbed her. Although, then she started to feel a warmth in her chest as she thought about Duran, and glad to see he was safe...him and his friends of course. As she finished her bath and Marina got her prepared for bed, Althea thought about how Marina made her feel a sudden warmth at times too. Just feeling her run her hands through her hair made her face red. Althea even started feeling apprehensive about her helping dress her.

“Is there anything else you need tonight Althea?”

“No...thank you Marina.” Marina smiled and blew out the candles around her room before closing her bedroom door. Althea sighed tiredly as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of two different people.

♛

A few days went by where the palace was silent. The king was spending most of his time in his study, the queen was busy looking over the stocks and taxes of the kingdom, and the princess...well she had taken up new activities. Althea had gotten quite good at hiding away from her handmaidens, Marina included. Althea found herself following Duran throughout the day. She would watch him train, and workout, and smile as he laughed and joked with his friends during their breaks. Althea would have to be constant alert though, as her behavior would be frowned upon. If any knights saw her, or worse her parents, she’d likely be in a lot of trouble. One night everything changed however, as she made her way down towards the southern border of the palace. For some reason, Duran went down there. So, Althea followed him, curious to what he could be doing. The only thing in that direction was the fields that led to the lake. It was late as well, so she should have been in bed, she contemplated going back before anyone noticed. Her curiosity consumed her though as she continued on her way. When she made it down the many steps to the door, she peeked through but was confused when she didn’t see him there. She opened the door a little more and looked around, but still saw nothing.

She huffed a little as she looked at the rolling hills. He did walk in this general direction, yet she saw no sign of him. The wind blew sending a chill up her body. She wrapped her robes tighter around her body, perhaps she should have changed instead of coming down in her nightgown. Giving one more look around she sighed and turned around toward the stairs.

Her heart shot to her throat as Duran sat there smiling at her. His chin leaning on his hand and foot on top of his helmet. Althea stared at him in stunned silence. He in turn continued to smile, before leaning back and crossing his arms. Althea could feel her face heat up as his blue eyes shone mischievously.

“Hello princess…”

He took his foot off his helmet and sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Althea looked down at the ground and shuffled in place. She could feel his eyes on her, so she looked up through her eyelashes at him, and he just sighed again.

“Princess...you should not be roaming around the palace in the middle of the night,” he stated firmly. “There may be guards around but it’s still dangerous.”

“Y-Yes of course.” He stood up and adjusted the straps of his armor as he looked at her.

“You know...I know that you’ve been following me these last few days.”

“H-Huh?! B-But...h-how…”

“It wasn’t hard to tell princess...I just didn’t think you’d follow me all the way out here. So...if you don’t mind...why have you been following me?”

“I...I...um...I just...wanted to...make sure you were well….after what happened at the tournament.”

“......” Althea looks back down at her feet. The only sound between them is the flickering of the torches and the sound of the wind blowing outside.

“You...wanted to make sure I was well?” He wonders aloud, a bit stunned. Althea just nods her head. She looks up as he chuckles a little under his breath as he then flat out laughs. She blinks at him in surprise, watching as he seems to get more handsome the more he laughs.

“P-Princess….you should not be worried about me at all!” He chuckled, wiping away a stray tear. “I need to worry about you if anything. Especially since you follow knights around in the middle of the night. Some of the other knights around here aren’t as kind as me.”

“I-I’m sorry...I…”

“Hey...um princess...I should get you back to your room.”

“N-No! I...I mean...I just want to stay out...a bit longer.”

“I...well…”

“Please Duran….” He sighs and rubs the back of his head, and looks at her intently. It wasn’t the best situation he could find himself in. Being a young teenaged man, in a dark stairwell, with a young teenage girl, who is also the princess. Also, it was late at night, so...it just didn’t look right at all. Besides, he just managed to avoid being executed for almost killing her a few weeks ago. This...would be worse...for him and his family.

“We could...stay out here,” she shyly suggested. “I can’t sleep so I...I just would like some company.” He closed his eyes and suppressed a groan as he actually started to consider what she said. He opened one eye and watched as she looked at the flickering torch, touching her hair. She looked away from it and looked straight into his eyes, and that look alone made him groan and nod his head.

“Ok...of course princess,” he said, picking up his helmet. “Just for a little bit, then I will escort you back to your room.” He holds the door open for her as she steps outside. He looks around, carefully surveying the area, he turns back and raises a brow as he sees Althea sitting on the grass leaning against palace walls. He stands in front of her and eyes the area cautiously.

“Um Duran...you can sit down...if you want.”

“Hmm? Princess I don’t really think I should...I have to keep watch,” he answers sternly. “Besides...we shouldn’t be out here much longer.”

“Please?” He sighed and looked back at her, her smile was all it took for him to sit next to her. He looked out at the fields and frowned. If she stayed there any longer, someone would make their rounds eventually.

“Excuse me Duran?”

“Hmm? Yes Princess?”

“Are...are you alright?”

“Yes of course princess,” he responds smiling. “The beast was formidable, but we managed to kill it as well as the others that came with it.”

“O-Others? T-There were more of those creatures?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, to her horror. “They were in the crowd and one was out in the fields. We figured it was on its way to the tournament, but it saw you and the others and attacked you.” Althea pales in horror as Duran retells the story of what happened. It sounded like something straight out of a nightmare. It seemed that while she was asleep, a lot of people died, knights and civilians alike. It seemed that Honora only had a slight concussion, but she was fine. Liam and Duran managed to walk out with only a few scratches and bruises. A mass funeral was held just a week ago.

“We are just glad neither one of the royal families were hurt during the altercation,” he says relieved. “I’m glad you weren’t an injured princess.” Althea looks down at her hands blushing fiercely. Duran smiles and sighs.

“Princess...I should really escort you back to your room.”

“O-Ok…”

Duran stood up and held his hand out to her, which she took graciously. Her face grew redder as she felt his strong, manly hands. His hand felt so warm in hers. She looked up at him, and he just smiled handsomely at her, it made her heart skip a beat. As they walked back to her room, Althea thought about the people who lost their lives. She looked at Duran and felt a sadness in her heart, as she realized he could have died as well. Duran didn’t seem to be bothered with the prospect of dying for his kingdom. It made her think about how brave and loyal the royal knights were to the crown.

“Ok Princess,” Duran said, stopping outside her room. “Please try not to wander around at night anymore. I might not always be there to protect you.”

“Y-Yes of course...thank you.” He nodded and bowed and walked away. Althea closed her door and leaned her forehead against it. Her heart had been racing so fast, though the time was short, she enjoyed his company very much. As she climbed into bed, she couldn’t help but think about Robin...and most importantly his family. Her mind was going in so many different places lately.

‘I’m gonna have a lot to think about in this year….a lot,” she said to herself as she stared out her window with a worried expression.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next: https://goddessofeternity.tumblr.com/post/648324698947665920/love-amidst-the-darkness

Previous: https://goddessofeternity.tumblr.com/post/647305048059183104/love-amidst-the-darkness

Thanks for reading!

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Likes are welcomed!

#Althea #King Kyros #Queen Hestia #Marina #King Zacharias #Queen Ophelia #Princess Evelyn #Princess Fiona #Princess Aileen #Duran #royalty

3 notes · View notes

you-are-my-neverland · 4 years

Text

so. it’s finally time to talk about [my] nano.

i’ve kept my nano project pretty under wraps so far, mostly because it’s been out of my hands. i wasn’t actually planning on doing a for real for real nano; instead, i thought i would dedicate some time to my fanfic (spoiler alert, but i haven’t yet) or work on finishing up revising fairbone (spoiler alert: i did revise one chapter, but i still have like half of it left to go and a nov 30 deadline...rip). if that didn’t work, i thought i would pick a wip i started over the summer or one i had half developed (let’s just say the ideas note i have really boomed over the summer and like...yeah). in conclusion, there were many wips ready for me to work on them, including ash heart, which i really want to write but haven’t figured out how to.

instead i started a new wip.

well, it’s not necessarily new, persay. it’s an idea i’ve had stewing since like late september/early october and planned out a good portion of. however, deciding to start it was a last minute decision - and by last decision, i mean that on october 31st i finished developing the barebones of character development and basic plot lol and then gave it a go. it’s honestly been going crazy well. as of today (november 9th), i just hit 21.2k words. i’m hopeful about this year, while also not wanting to jinx stuff, but like...wow. but writing is has made me realize that, wow, this book is going to be crazy long probably...like i’m 21k words in and we’re still like in the exposition idk what’s going on. but hey, i finished planning out the rest of the basic plot for it today!!!

right. onto the wip details.

honestly, the only reason i haven’t introduced this wip is because a) i want actual stuff done on it and like a proven commitment, because i feel like too often i introduce wips i don’t actually go anywhere with and i hate it, b) i don’t have a set title and c) i actually have no idea how to summarize this.

the novel i’m working on right now is the first of a projected trilogy. i say projected because i have a vague idea that it belongs to a trilogy, but like not a lot of plot except some vaguely connected ideas that should happen in the future. in it, i used a lot of characters from these violent ends, which i tried to write for camp april 2020, but like just their basic barebones; i changed a lot to fit the story, of course.

not to sound nerdy, but it is like....harry potter inspired, but ONLY in the magical boarding school sense. of course, right now all i have is magical boarding school shenanigans, which i don’t really like because i feel like it unfairly sets the book up as like fun magical stuff when it’s really about murder & politics & student activism (+ a lot of other things ending in -ism). the whole activism part came from watching the trial of the chicago 7 and i was like, bingo, this is what this story needs.

kay but ANYWAYS. onto the story. like i said, i can’t really summarize it, but there are lots of themes of classism, feminism, the affect on youth and youth’s effect, manipulative adults, revolution, terrorism, sibling dynamics and found family vibes, like all that stuff...packaged into a magical boarding school off the coast of maine setting...recipe for disaster!

mainly i’ve been writing in ophelia’s pov, because she’s my main girl and she’s problematic, but also she’s trying her best and just having a little difficulty fitting in. some other main characters are her twin brother, sebastian, and two other boys, asriel and vincent, who have an initially animistic relationship with ophelia (& kind of each other?) but it’s like enemies to friends (to lovers?).

anyways. here are some carefully curated excerpts below the cut:

i. vincent and asriel meet on a train (ch. 1)

The boy pursed his lips together. “It’s unusual,” he said, finally. “That’s all.” But he was looking at Vincent as if he was noticing him, which meant he was lying, or at least withholding the truth about something. He added, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Do you mean geographically?” Vincent replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m from New York.”

A small glimmer of a smile appeared on the boy’s lips, though it vanished as quickly as it had come. “From the Magical World,” he clarified.

“What gives it away?” Vincent asked sarcastically, waving a hand across his body. “My impeccable taste?”

“Among other things,” the boy said.

ii. sebastian and ophelia discuss grief on a ferry (ch.2 )

“You and mom talked?” Ophelia asked, surprised. She hadn’t exactly been keeping track of them, but she was sure she and Sebastian had spent much of the day together, as they were wont to do.

Sebastian looked at the floor. “Yeah,” he answered, hoarsely. “At least she wants to talk about Des. Dad doesn’t, and neither do you.”

Ophelia sighed, wondering why, today of all days, her sister was haunting them. Maybe it was because there should have been three people heading to Rijevduct, instead of two. Maybe Mother Magic was reminded of the loss of one of her own.

“I’ve let her go,” she said. “You should too. We have too much of our lives ahead of us to mourn Desdemona forever.”

“I don’t mourn,” Sebastian said, words uncharacteristically sharp. “But I do grieve.”

“Isn’t that basically the same thing,” Ophelia mumbled, closing her eyes and feeling the press of a headache behind them.

“Sorrow,” Sebastian said, the word a soft shudder. “And sad endings.”

“What?”

“That’s what makes a good tragedy,” Sebastian answered. “I read it in a book.”

iii. headmistress alexeyev gives a speech (ch. 2)

“Eight years ago, seventy two students were slaughtered here. Some died on the very spot where you now stand today.” Ophelia glanced down at the floor, seeing the motion repeated instinctively around her as well. She looked over at Sebastian, who had closed his eyes instead, a pale flush meeting the faint color in his cheeks. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, tennis shoes scraping against stone as he toed them against the floor, as if he was shaking something only visible to him off.

“It was a tragedy,” Headmistress Alexeyev continued. “I say this because it is the truth. It was a tragedy, and not one that should never have happened.” She inhaled; Ophelia saw her chest rise, shoulders with it, in a sharp motion before she exhaled, body rearranging itself into poise once more. “I speak of this to tell you to assure you that Rijevduct is safe. I know there have been continuous doubts over the security of this school since that day eight years ago. I cannot, of course, guarantee that you will not come to any harm here. I cannot tell you that Rijevduct is the safe haven you were taught it was growing up; events have already proved that it is, in fact, not as impenetrable as one might think.”

Ophelia frowned, confused as to the line of reasoning. She had thought the whole point of the year of transition was to make sure that Rijevduct was infinitely more safer than it had been—and they had all been under the assumption that Rijevduct was virtually impenetrable until the massacre, which had led to the heightened security measures they saw today.

“I can, however, promise you that I, and everyone here today, will do anything in their power to keep you safe,” the Headmistress said. Next to Ophelia, Briar bowed her head, lowering her eyes and swallowing, the action almost a convulsion of her throat and mouth. Ophelia brushed her hand, lightly, in question, and the other girl just shook her head, looking away purposefully, so that Ophelia lost sight of her face and her sad eyes.

“These next three years will be far from easy. Gone are the sheltered lives where your parents could kiss your injuries goodbye, or sing you to sleep at night. Rijevduct is far from the cold, real world, but it is close enough when it comes to not asking you what you want first. This is an adjustment period. This is learning how to survive—and I will tell you this; surviving means many different things to many different people. You will have to decide on your own what this will mean for you, and how you will apply what you are taught here to your futures. Be wise. Be proud. Be humble. Cry. Laugh. Live. As your Headmistress, I, along with your professors, will be here throughout your time.” She raised her glass, “To the worthy,” and then drank, turning and walking back to her seat, which she lowered herself into gracefully.

iv. sebastian pov! (ch. 3)

There was a dead girl in Sebastian’s first period Magical Theory class. She was sitting diagonal from him, on the Glass side of the classroom, in an empty chair, staring straight ahead at the chalkboard. Sebastian tried not to look at her too obviously, his eyes straying from the open book in front of him to her cautiously, beneath the sleeve of his sweater.

She was sitting blankly in the chair, scraping her shoes against the ground, though they could not leave any scuff marks. Though she was the same faded shades most girls were, Sebastian could make out her pleated pale blue plaid skirt, which brushed around her knees, and the stained white blouse that might have once been spotless, but had been marred forever by the circumstances surrounding her death—objectively, that was to say, with blood. Her dark brown hair fell into loose curls around her shoulders, little silver studs glinting dimly, unable to catch the light. Her knee high socks now pooled around her calves and ankles, revealing a rotting bandaid on one of her knees. One of her tennis shoes was peeling at the toes, looking as if it had been ripped apart.

Her fingernails had all been pulled off. Sebastian was good at analyzing ghosts by this point; he recognized the bloody flesh and bone of the nail bed. There was also blood matted across her head, trickling down her temple, with bruises covering her body; they peeked out from beneath the collar of her shirt, blackened across her cheekbones with a sunken quality in particular to one of her cheeks, as if the bone had begun to cave.

Subjectively, she was far from one of the worst that Sebastian had seen.

#writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #nano 2020 #nanowrimo 2020 #nano update #11.9.2020 #enjoy these excerpts they are not so trash after all #this is all so messy #but i didn't want to ss because it will look ugly #this should be called i explain my nano2020 w/o explaining anything #i want to make a point with this but also]#magical boarding school shenanigans TT #like it's bothering me how it has like a different start than its end but maybe that will be good in the end?#who knows who knows #anyways if i tried to actually explain my wip we would be here all night

9 notes · View notes

chaoswillfallrpg · 3 years

Photo

SELENA PETROSYAN is THIRTY-FOUR YEARS OLD and a BARMAID at THE WHITE WVRYN in KNOCKTURN ALLEY. She looks remarkably like ANGELA SARAFYAN and considers herself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. She is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: bodily harm, blood, death, murder

More than just a pretty face, Selena Petrosyan is one of the most deadly women in London you’d hope to never meet. Whilst many are drawn in by her beauty and natural elegance, there are also those who have met a sticky end by making an enemy out of her. Born in Armenia to ANNA and HAYK PETROSYAN, her family lived briefly in the capital city of Yerevan before immigrating to London. The only child of a stage actress and a painter, Selena was surrounded by the arts whilst growing up and always had a strong affinity with expressing herself through creative outlets. Selena wanted to be a ballerina. But not simply a ballerina, the best in the world. Whilst she was academically gifted, Selena knew her future belonged in dance and dreamed of dropping out of school to join the The Royal Ballet School in Richmond. The first few years she was at school in Mill Hill were tiresome for Selena. Surrounded by children with no desire to learn and no aspiration she longed to leave it all behind and be with those most like her but due to the school’s extensive fees and her parents desire to keep her at home during her earlier years she was not allowed to apply until she was sixteen. After various auditions she finally secured herself a place, though the real emotional, physical and mental stress came when she began her schooling.

Having gone from an environment where Selena was always the brightest star in the room, her peers were no longer just children who loved dancing, they were the very best ballet dancers in the world. MAISIE QUINN had a similar background to Selena, though her years of training had not made her as hard faced as Selena was. When teachers pointed out their faults and made them twirl till their feet could take it no more Selena refused to let it break her. All her life she had never understood weakness, when she felt like crying she pushed it down and used the emotions to try and propel herself forward. Maisie hadn’t been like that. Silently tears rolled down her cheeks when she knew she hadn’t done her best and the first day Selena almost cracked in front of her teachers as she was critiqued Maisie appeared by her side after the lesson. Maisie brought out a softer side to Selena, sensing emotions in her that Selena wasn’t quite ready to admit herself. All Selena’s life she had preferred to be alone. No one really understood her except for her parents and so she had buried herself in things she loved to pave over the loneliness. Maisie was the first person who had really tried to get to know her and from the hard moments at school to being members of The Royal Ballet they had each other. The pair had always been best friends, but something stirred deep inside Selena that told her she wanted more from their relationship and the two began dating.

Selena was the happiest she’d ever been. Then one night it changed. Stepping out onto the cobbled streets of Covent Garden, cigarette in hand and her ballet bag slumped over her shoulder. She took a back route to Leicester Square and was pulled into a side street. The next few minutes were the most agonising Selena had experienced as the lycanthrope poison took hold and she passed out thereafter till morning. It was the night of one of her shows Selena shifted for the first time. Coming off stage to practise in the basement, she locked herself in one of the practise rooms and lost consciousness. When she awoke the room was destroyed and she had a number of large cuts on her body where the mirror had broken on the wall. A man approached her the next day after the show with a bouquet of red roses in his hand and a strange story he shared with her. LLEWELLYN DEAN had seen Selena on stage and captivated by her beauty had chosen her to become his beta. His judgement clouded by his need for companionship and desire for Selena. Naturally, Selena refused his advances, turning him away and refusing to entertain the notion of what she had become. But the blackouts still kept happening and as Selena woke up on the floor of the destroyed studio each time more battered and bruised than the last she knew she had to get answers, withdrawing from her girlfriend and into research on the legend of werewolves.

Things finally came to a head one night when Maisie cornered her, following her downstairs and demanding answers. The pair argued and Selena lost track of the time. Blacking out as they spoke and waking up to find the body of her girlfriend lying before her, battered and bloody as if she’d been attacked by an animal. Her cries and screams echoed the halls of the The Royal Opera House and Llewellyn appeared by her side, scooping her up and taking her away. Selena had refused to believe what had happened and now Maisie was dead. Llewellyn took advantage of her grief, taking her to his home in Canterbury and teaching her how to exist in her new life. Llewellyn was all she had and all she knew and despite knowing what he’d done to her was wrong, Selena clung to him out of loneliness and a need to belong as this strange monster. Llewellyn wanted to build a pack for them both and over the years the pair began to find others like them to exist alongside them. FENRIR GREYBACK was a name they had both heard floating around the home counties. Violent and full of range it was up to Selena to draw him into their pack, though Llewellyn hadn’t accounted for what an outside influence might do to his relationship with Selena. With a new experienced werewolf in her life Selena quickly realised she’d been lied to for a number of years, Llewellyn taking advantage of her naivety and failing to tell her of the affects of wolfsbane he’d been keeping for himself.

With Fenrir by her side, she killed Llewellyn. Taking off to begin a new life with a new alpha who cared about her and wouldn’t lie to her the way Llewellyn had. He quickly became her world and the more time they spent together the deeper Selena fell in love with him. Llewellyn had taken her life from her and her happiness with Maisie but Fenrir had given her a new one where he taught her to be powerful. Her skills as a ballerina came in handy as she stalked their prey and her gymnastic prowess helped her be deadly in combat which Fenrir had drawn out of her over countless training sessions. Formally a wizard, he taught her about the wizarding world. He spoke about a Ministry who hated them and a figurehead who would one day help them walk amongst the magical community and finally give them a place in society. THE DARK LORD. Though Selena loved their life together, choosing members for their pack and helping people to grow as werewolves she craved normality more. She wanted Fenrir as her husband, children of their own and a life dancing on stage at The Luminous Theatre. Fenrir knew how much she loved him and her dreams, using them to groom her into the person he needed her to be. Fenrir didn’t want love and soft touches, he wanted domination and her strength and maternal touch she had on their pack members was important for what he had planned but hadn’t shared.

Stationing her in Knockturn Alley, Fenrir enchanted documents that would help her pass a Squib and acquire a job as a barmaid in The White Wyvern. From the bar she obtained names and information, those who could come in use for their cause and those who would find their names on her hit list. Her deep unwavering loyalty to Fenrir drove her to do things she knew were ill advised. Including tracking and plotting to murder an Auror at the Ministry she knew was tracking Fenrir. ISHAAN PATIL liked to brag about his cases and one evening as he told the pub he was ready to catch the infamous werewolf, Selena hatched her plan. On the next full moon she broke into his apartment and waited. The moonlight touched her skin and she shifted, attacking the figure that emerged through the door with the intent on silencing them forever Her teeth broke into the skin of her prey and as a high pitched scream emerged, a sharp pain coursed through her body causing her to let go and run off into the night. The scream was from a woman and as Selena made her way back to her home in Knockturn Alley above the pub, she panicked knowing not only had her mission failed but a new member of their pack had been created she did not know the identity of. Back at work, Selena is trying to behave as though everything is normal, all the while trying to figure out who she has accidentally bestowed her dark gift upon and praying she finds them before Fenrir finds out.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Muggle (Werewolf)

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female

Sexuality → Pansexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → N/A

Societies → The Greyback Wolves

Family → N/A

Connections → Lewellyn Dean (maker/deceased adversary), Fenrir Greyback (alpha/object of affection), Jonathan Reeves (pack member/colleague), Arash Moradi (close friend), Ophelia Delacour (close friend), Marcus Faribault (close friend), Ishaan Patil (adversary), Giva Patil (unknown victim), Maisie Quinn (deceased girlfriend)

Future Information → N/A

SELENA PETROSYAN IS A LEVEL 6 WEREWOLF.

3 notes · View notes

sheikah · 7 years

Note

i know people are saying the ending will be bittersweet and what that could mean, but I think it will end with jon, dany, and their heir ruling over a new form of the 7 kingdoms (breaking the wheel). As for the bitter part, I think perhaps all of the dragons die, but right at the end we see more eggs, signaling that they will live on in the future

I agree with most of this! I think that most of us in the fandom are programmed to expect the worst ever since book/season 3 because of the Red Wedding. That’s why there are so many doom and gloom theories about the ending.

That being said, I do understand why so many people readily assume Jon, Dany, or both will die. I don’t think both will, but I would not be a bit surprised if one of them does. But the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to think they might both make it out alive.

After reflecting more about LOTR (which GRRM frequently compares his work to) and GRRM’s assertion that he thinks readers will find his ending to be just as happy as it is bitter

“I’m not going to tell you how I’m going to end my book, but I suspect the overall flavor is going to be as much bittersweet as it is happy.”

(Source)

I feel that we can reasonably expect Jon and Dany’s survival. I think that because if we connect it back to LOTR, the principle characters in that series do live, even if it’s not all happy. GRRM had this to say about it:

“It’s no secret that Tolkien has been a huge influence on me, and I love the way he ended ’Lord of the Rings.’ It ends with victory, but it’s a bittersweet victory. Frodo is never whole again, and he goes away to the Undying Lands, and the other people live their lives. And the scouring of the Shire —brilliant piece of work, which I didn’t understand when I was 13 years old: ’Why is this here? The story’s over?’ But every time I read it I understand the brilliance of that segment more and more. All I can say is that’s the kind of tone I will be aiming for. Whether I achieve it or not, that will be up to people like you and my readers to judge.”

(Source)

And so even though the overall tone of GOT/ASOIAF has been a bit pessimistic, and even though the the book and the show (until season 6, anyway) have been basically a practice in overthrowing expected tropes and “happy endings” for character arcs, I think we can see all of that having been an exercise in preparing the characters for their final trials. And I think that in the end, they can overcome that and be allowed to live, even if not altogether “happily.”

After all, ASOIAF is his life’s work. Who wants to spend all of this time and energy writing a series that ends tragically, even after years of tragedy? What would be the point? The theme? The message? The takeaway? If all of our heroes die, what is the reader to take from ASOIAF?

Because if we look at other “everybody dies” narratives, there’s a clear reason why. Hamlet, for example, has a pretty unsatisfying ending in that all of its main characters die. Horribly. But we can trace the reason why for all of these characters. Hamlet himself suffered from indecision and inaction. Ophelia ignored her brother’s advice and got too swept up in romance with the unavailable Hamlet. Gertrude fell for her husband’s brother and murderer, betraying his memory. Laertes was a hypocrite–engaging in reportedly raucous and disreputable behavior in France yet trying to control his sister’s life and scold her for being potentially reckless by pursuing Hamlet.

So it was sad when all of these characters died but we could take lessons from how they acted.

Same with other Shakespearean tragedies. In Macbeth, the title character and Lady Macbeth die because of their “vaulting ambition” to overthrow the king, stepping out of the sacred social hierarchy and trying to seize rather than inherit royalty. And Macbeth himself also paid the price for trusting in the fickle nature of prophecy by misinterpreting the words of the Weird Sisters and believing that he would be safe from traitors.

Now let’s look at ASOIAF. Many of the characters who have died, died for arbitrary reasons. We can’t always easily trace a cause like we could with other tragedies. It’s easy to write Ned off as “too honorable” as I see many people do. But ultimately he was willing to sully his own honor in order to protect Sansa. He still died even when he sacrificed his ideals, abandoned the “right thing” of opposing Joffrey. There isn’t an easy solution to his death.

Margaery also did everything right. She was a master of manipulating the men around her to protect herself and her family, all the while elevating the Tyrell family name. But still she was murdered.

Deaths like Robb’s, Catelyn’s, and Oberyn’s can easily be traced to a character flaw. But that’s not the case for all of the big ASOIAF deaths. And it wouldn’t be the case if our remaining heroes were to die in the war.

Even Jon, who is constantly at the heart of the love vs duty conflict, should at this point be allowed to survive the series. He chose duty over love, chose the Watch over Ygritte. He was loyal to his men and his responsibility even when they weren’t loyal to him. He still died.

So if characters like Jon or Dany, who have made mistakes in their arcs already and already paid the price were to die in the end, what is the point? What is Martin really trying to say about the human experience or human nature or war?

I think the characters need to live, even if things go wrong, that way at least there has been a point to all the suffering. This is especially true when we look at LOTR as a comparison piece.

Sam’s famous speech comes to mind:

“It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end… because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing… this shadow. Even darkness must pass.”

The same has got to be true in Planetos. I have to believe that. And I think Martin does, too. So that his story can show that even in the worst of times–like the times our world is facing now, for example–humanity can find it in themselves to persevere. Martin even said recently that the White Walkers are like a metaphor for climate change. This makes sense considering the wonky seasons in Planetos. So if that’s true, then we know that modern, topical issues and themes are part of this story. And what would be the point of suggesting that humanity will succumb and fail at combating climate change? Why suggest that we would fail at or die in the process of overthrowing despotic rulers? Why write a story that doesn’t teach or encourage its readers?

Even with the negative tone throughout, I don’t believe GOT or ASOIAF are nihilistic. I think we can expect a more positive ending. This quote says it better than I could:

“Needless to say, it doesn’t really make much sense with what we’ve seen so far that the ending of A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones would echo Lord of the Rings’ relatively happy conclusion. Though it could be the case that Martin has been saving up years and years of pain and misery for a grand turnaround that does indeed lead to a somewhat uplifting ending.

All the years of pain and suffering may indeed be building to some enormous payoff. Jon Snow will likely survive his own death and live to become Azor Ahai reborn, as the prophecy foretells. Dany will find her dragon-riding support staff. Arya will become the most badass assassin in the realm. Even if (when) more beloved characters die, at least a few should survive until the end (smart money says Tyrion will go the distance), and perhaps the realm won’t be completely frozen and shattered when the last page of the series is turned.”

(Source)

So, yeah–I think we’ll have plenty of sweet to combat what was already a very bitter story so far. However, I don’t think we will see more dragon eggs.

Magic going out of the world was a theme in LOTR and I think it’s a theme in ASOIAF too. The Children of the Forest have now died out. Until recently, everyone in the realm believed that the White Walkers/Others were already gone. They believed dragons were gone. And the supposed abilities of people like Melisandre and Thoros are met with suspicion and skepticism/doubt.

So I think that magic has only really returned as a way to balance the fight and help humanity face the Long Night. That’s the only reason why. And once they’ve had the Battle for the Dawn, the dragons will likely be the price paid for peace.

#jonerys #got #answered

117 notes · View notes

tamitha-t-shepard · 4 years

Text

Episode No. 1: The Past is Always present

Our Dearest Everleigh,

We are sorry that our last letter caused you such misery amid unexpected joy. Though, you must feel, as we do, that our concern is only natural given the circumstances. We hope this letter finds you well—and still unmarried.

Please understand, it is not that we believe him to be unworthy of you, but that it is impossible to know one way or the other. For a young man of such striking abilities as you describe to remain wholly unknown to our kind for the first thirty years of his life is an unusual and unlikely occurrence. But for him to suddenly appear on The Furthest Shore without any recollection of a past or home, family or friends is inconceivable. As no one has yet come forward that can claim any knowledge of him, we must urge you to postpone your marriage until our return. Even as I write, Ophelia is booking our passage, and most of the morning has been spent packing in such scramble and haste as to be comical were it not for our anxiety that we are already too late. I know that what we write must pain and disappoint you, but we cannot help but fear for your sake—nay, for both your sakes, if he is as friendless and innocent as he appears to you. There is darkness at the root of this, we are sure, and until any light can be gained, you must guard your heart.

Remember, “the past is always present.” Those words followed our family from The World That Was to the shore where you now stand, and they have served us well for over three thousand years. While most of the Others have perished, our kind has not only survived but flourished in The New World. It is because we do not forget. We are The Living Memory of all that was. If a Darkwell knows anything with certainty, it is that, however deeply buried or seemingly distant, the past is inescapable. It will always find you.

With Much Trepidation and Ceaseless Love, Your Aunts,

Odessa & Ophelia

P.S. —And so will we—find you that is— if you even think of eloping and abandoning the manor before our return. It is much better to defy us in the comfort and safety of Darkwell and risk our displeasure rather than undo the work of many generations. The last time it was left uninhabited, it took your great-grandmother six months to find it and six more to coax it back to The Furthest Shore. So much can happen in the space of a year; who has the time to go chasing after a cross, anxiety-riddled house with unresolved abandonment issues?

The Goring Letter, as it later became known in the Darkwells’ Book of Books, was written after Odessa and Ophelia Darkwell were booted from Portal Travelers’ Grand Tour of Royal Coronations Through the Ages.

Organized by the sisters and arranged through the Interrealm Historical Society of The New World, of which they were longstanding members, it was meant to be a long and well-deserved holiday. Their guide, Shaemus McPhail, accused the sisters of intentionally referring to him as Shameless McPhail, constantly correcting him on ‘historical inaccuracies of grave error,’ and despite repeated warnings, wandering away from their group to discuss current events with the locals. There was also a confrontation that resulted in an altercation between Ophelia and Richard III over the return of a Darkwell family heirloom ‘borrowed’ by the York brothers before the Battle of Mortimer’s Cross in 1461.

After being banned from their tour group (and all future Portal Travelers historical tours), they decided to travel onto its last stop alone. While in London, they received a letter from their niece, Everleigh Darkwell, informing them of her intention to marry against their wishes. Everleigh wouldn’t discover their reply until a few months into her marriage while she was weeding the garden, tucked inside one of Odessa’s prize rhododendron bushes. Until that moment, it never occurred to her to question their absence. Only the Darkwells’ neighbor, Nettle Larkspur, was convinced something must have gone wrong when the sisters weren’t among the guests at Everleigh’s wedding. As she told her own niece while walking home from the reception, ‘it is not in Ophelia Darkwell’s nature to have missed the opportunity to put a stop to the wedding and deny everybody of The Furthest Shore a piece of the cake.’

Still, the sisters weren’t expected to return from their holiday for several weeks after their niece found their letter. It wasn’t unusual to have heard nothing from them. The mail was no more reliable than the weather in a place like The Furthest Shore. Even an express (and its hapless messenger) could be lost for weeks or months, and sometimes, years before turning up. Besides, Everleigh was in no rush for the return home of her aunts. She knew that while Odessa may not approve, she would resign herself to her niece’s choice sooner than later and welcome her new nephew into the family. Ophelia, however, was most likely of the opinion that Everleigh’s marriage to an unknown witch without a name or family was a tarnish on the Darkwells’ reputation only an annulment could remove.

Ophelia would return home ready to wage war, doggedly determined to rampage down the path she believed was ‘the only proper way,’ dragging the others along until eventually they fell into step beside her. That was how it had always been as long as Everleigh could remember, but this time, she could not—would not—bend to her aunt’s will. As painful as the thought was, the possible necessity of leaving the only home and family she knew occurred to her more than once. Her first responsibility was now to her marriage, and like all young wives, she was eager for the comfort and happiness of her husband. Where he was not welcomed, she could no longer remain.

Her aunts’ lack of faith in her judgment and the family pride that ranked higher in their consideration than the niece they brought up and treated as a daughter, taught Everleigh the importance of self-reliance. This resulted in the further discovery that she, too, possessed a strength of will as formidable as theirs. In other words, she was determined to have her own way and for everyone involved to be happy about it. She was no longer in the business of pleasing her aunts or fanning the flame of their inflated sense of what she owed her family to be worthy of the name of Darkwell.

It was a long-honored tradition in The Furthest Shore for the groom to take the family name of his bride. She had half a mind to further shock her relations and neighbors by taking her husband’s last name, but that would have to wait until he either remembered what that name was or his family came forward to claim him. But apart from her daydreams of rebellion, Everleigh clung to her belief that time and distance would smooth the ruffled feathers of her aunts’ pride. If not, the impending arrival of the newest member of the Darkwell family would serve to heal the breach once Odessa and Ophelia returned. At least, that had been her hope until she read their letter.

Portal Travelers were prohibited by their lawyers from discussing any details relating to the Miss Darkwells, Richard III, or the events that transpired during his coronation feast at Westminster Hall. They were currently under investigation by the Interrealm Portal Authorities (IPA) in conjunction with the Time Travel Sanctions Enforcement Agency (TTSEA). The only thing that IPA could confirm with certainty was the Miss Darkwells were asked to leave the tour shortly after the incident, and their current whereabouts were unknown. They wondered if Everleigh would be so kind to let them know of any word from her aunts as the Miss Darkwells was still wanted for questioning and apologized that their agents had been prevented from contacting her sooner.

Both organizations attempted to reach her several times by phone and letter. No sooner did they dial the number then they were put on hold while “God Save the Queen” played on an endless loop; every letter came back marked ‘return to sender’—and stamped with a smiling and winking skull. They couldn’t understand it as The Furthest Shore was well within their jurisdiction. They even sent agents to Darkwell Manor, but like her aunts, they were now missing and could not be located.

Everleigh wasn’t surprised to learn that her aunts’ tour was short-lived. Or that they were responsible for a time anomaly and a new portrait hanging in the east wing dated 1483 by an unknown artist, portraying Richard being accosted by two finely dressed noblewomen, or that they took off on their own without a word to anyone, including herself. In the best of circumstances and on their best behavior, Odessa and Ophelia could be impetuous and unpredictable. Revered throughout The New World for their brilliance as witches and the integrity that marked their practice of the craft, they were also infamous for their outlandish, eccentric, and contrary natures.

Everleigh could trace them as far as the Goring Hotel in London on the afternoon of June 3, 1953—the same date as the Goring Letter—but not beyond. They, had in fact, booked their passage home to The Furthest Shore, but an unidentified woman canceled the booking by phone less than an hour after it was made. Similarly, a Ms. H—only the ‘H’ of her signature was legible—paid their bill at the desk and politely asked to have a handful of the sisters’ letters mailed directly. Everleigh couldn’t think of who the woman was, and no one at the hotel was able to give a satisfactory description of her beyond her being rather tall and of indiscriminate age with no discernible accent. But what struck their niece as odd and out of character wasn’t that a mystery woman was running their errands, but that no one remembered seeing her aunts leave the hotel after their bill was settled.

Above all, Odessa and Ophelia enjoyed being seen, heard, and attended to while traveling—and causing as much trouble and inconvenience to others as was in their power fulfilled their two main requirements of any holiday—entertainment and relaxation. The sisters were always curious and impatient to see how enthusiastically they were wished away by the hotel staff and other guests by the end of their stay. Surely, there must have been at least one disgruntled employee or cranky patron of the hotel who’s good nature was tested by Odessa and Ophelia as they left.

For reasons unknown, they went to great lengths to conceal themselves—and to keep their niece in the dark as long as possible. As the months passed and there was still no word of them, Everleigh, like her aunts, could not shake the feeling that darkness was at the root of it. She couldn’t bring herself to mention her suspicions to her husband, but in the privacy of her own thoughts, she couldn’t help wondering if her aunts had stumbled upon something to do with his past—or the reason for his lack of one.

She could recite every word of their letter faithfully, and the concerns and fears which seemed so trivial and unsubstantial when she first read it, now struck her as natural and reasonable. She had rushed into a marriage to a man who was not only a stranger to her, but to himself; he had no memory of who he was or the life he led before Everleigh found him wandering the shoreline alone. Her aunts were troublesome, demanding, and often exhausting, but they also spent the better part of their youth raising, teaching, and loving her without complaint or ever implying that they would have had it otherwise. She was their joy and preoccupation for the first twenty years of her life, and in that time she was treated with kindness, affection, and most importantly—especially for a young girl who lost both parents at an early age—they made her feel safe and wanted. Her aunts’ disappearance and the mystery of her husband’s origins became so intertwined in her imagination she could no longer untangle the one from the other.

Darkwell Manor was too quiet, too somber, and lost much of its color and vibrancy without the presence of Odessa and Ophelia. One by one, the sisters’ familiars wandered away from the manor and did not return. Even Ophelia’s favorite, a large black tomcat that called himself Pagan, gave up hope, and one afternoon, Everleigh watched him saunter out of the work kitchen and through the back garden gate without a word to anyone. He didn’t look back as he went, and no one had seen him since. Inside the walls of Darkwell, there was stillness, darkness, and a chill to be found in every room. The garden her aunts were so proud of sunk into despondency and decay. When it became impossible for Everleigh to tend to it herself, the Larkspurs were kind enough to take over its care. Still, even the deft hands and horticultural prowess of Nettle Larkspur wasn’t able to restore it to life. Only the rhododendrons continued to thrive, growing large and lush, overwhelming the smaller plants withering away nearby. Everleigh began to hate them and refused to have them in the house any longer. Darkwell was in mourning—for whom or what she wasn’t sure—but grief, like a shroud, descended over the manor.

The evening that marked the first anniversary of Odessa and Ophelia leaving Darkwell before embarking on their grand tour, Everleigh lay awake in bed, her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her sobs. Her husband lay beside her pretending to sleep as he listened. The next morning, she woke with a start to the sound of her husband’s voice calling her—and another’s as well—a familiar voice and the only voice that was capable of yelling the entirety of her name as though it were a string of obscenity-laced expletives. Ophelia Darkwell was home.

Before she could lift herself out of bed, her husband came through the door and breathlessly announced, “Everleigh, there’s a madwoman in the garden that wants you.”

“Yes, I know. It’s the Aunts,” Everleigh said brightly as she pointed to her robe lying on a chair near her husband, “Can you help me, please?”

“Is Odessa out there too?” she asked as he helped her into the robe.

“No, I didn’t see anyone else,” he said.

“Well, she’s never far behind Ophelia,” Everleigh said and turned to see the state of her husband’s mess of thick curls, rumpled clothes, and unshaven face, “Look at you—they’ll think I don’t take care of you.”

“Beloved, your eight months pregnant,” he pointed out. “I think that’s more likely to be the topic of our conversation with your—”

“Everleigh— Morgana— Gloriana— Alberta— Odeira— Darkwell!” Ophelia yelled, “If you do not come down here at once—what has THAT WOMAN done to my garden?”

“Maybe we should just pack and skip the introductions,” Everleigh suggested. Her husband only smiled and held out his hand which she took, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

As they came down the stairs and into the main hall, they could hear every word Ophelia uttered clearly and distinctly, which was no small feat considering the size of the house or the thickness of its walls. Everleigh was sure that the whole of The Furthest Shore now knew that the Darkwell sisters were home. Once outside, Everleigh stopped on the steps leading into the garden holding onto her husband’s hand to prevent him from going any nearer. They watched as Ophelia, on her knees and turned away from them, was attempting to pull the gnarled remains of a dead rose bush from the ground with only a trowel and her bare hands.

“—and to imagine that this is what I come home to! A slack-jawed nephew-in-law that runs away as soon as he sees me— as if he’s never seen a proper witch before; a ruined garden—what could Everleigh have been thinking to let Nettle Larkspur near it? I know it was her—daft woman left her trowel behind. Just like her, too, to do more harm than good. DO NOT THINK I DO NOT RECOGNIZE YOUR HAND IN THIS NETTLE LARKSPUR! Where is that girl?”

“Here, Aunt,” Everleigh called out as calmly as she could manage. “Good morning, Aunt Ophelia. Where is Aunt Odessa?”

“Good morning?” asked Ophelia, getting up and wiping the damp dirt from the front of her skirt while turning towards her niece, “Does any of this look good to you, Everleigh Darkwell? I am seriously displeased that you allowed—all of this,” she said, making a vague gesture that appeared to encompass the state of the garden, Everleigh’s large stomach and the husband who’s hand was beginning to tingle and grow numb in his wife’s unrelenting grip. “Where is everybody? Where is that tomcat—I gave him one job to do while we were away—to keep out the mice and rabbits. BILE OF THE BEAST—where is that damned heretic of a feline— Pagan!”

“He’s gone,” Everleigh told her.

“What do you mean, gone?” Ophelia asked incredulously.

“They’ve all gone, Aunt Ophelia. I’m sorry, but when you and Aunt Odessa didn’t return all of the familiars went off too—where is Aunt Odessa?”

Ophelia did not answer. She made her way to an old stone bench as the young couple watched as Ophelia began to rock where she sat, wrapping her arms tightly around her as though to prevent a sudden pain from escaping, before finally and quietly saying, “Not here, obviously. Do not you have eyes, child? Cannot you see that I am alone?”

A cold spell had come to The Furthest Shore during the night, and it began to snow—a light, soundless fall that clung to Ophelia. She was wearing only a thin, yellowing blouse and a long, slim gray skirt torn at the hemline, now damp and stained with dirt. She was shivering. She seemed diminished and older and yet, more childlike and at a loss than her niece had ever known her.

Everleigh’s eyes began to sting and cloud as she took in her aunt, and the meaning of her words began to sink in. She was startled by the sudden revelation of what she had always known but taken for granted. Her aunts were but two halves—only whole when they were together. A ‘split soul’ is what their kind called it. To Everleigh’s knowledge, the sisters had never been apart from one another for more than a few days at a time.

“I do not know how it happened,” Ophelia said, looking up at her niece, “I turned only for a moment, and when I turned back, she was gone. Vanished. I do not know how I let it happen.”

Everleigh could not move or speak but felt her husband let go of her hand and watched as he approached Ophelia, slowly and carefully. He took off his coat and put it around her shoulders.

“You aren’t dressed for the weather,” he said. “Should we go in?”

Everleigh watched him help Ophelia from the bench, marveling at the unlikely sight of her aunt leaning against him as they walked, his arm around her, and her hand clasped in his.

“What are you called, or are you still wandering about with no name?” Odessa asked him.

“Marc,” he told her. “Marc Darkwell.”

“Hmm, it is an ancient name—an auspicious name,” she said thoughtfully.

“Yes, Everleigh said so too.”

“A family name, of course. And was the naming done properly? Were you named at The Veil?”

He replied he was.

“It is a good name for a great man to have,” she told him. “The spirits of The Veil do not make mistakes. They see further and know better than the rest of us.”

“I’m honored to bear it.”

“As well you should be if you are to be a Darkwell.”

When questioned by Everleigh, her neighbors— and the IPA agents that finally found their way to the door of Darkwell Manor— about Odessa’s disappearance or her own unexplained absence, Ophelia would change the subject to the unusual weather for the time of year, or how unkempt the Larkspurs garden was looking these days, before abruptly leaving the room.

She was not home many days before she discovered she preferred the company of her nephew-in-law to her niece’s. He asked incessant questions, too, but they were questions that did not pain or disturb what was left of her peace of mind. He wanted to know everything about the Darkwells’ family history, the manor, and especially, his namesake. Ophelia would tell him the stories she knew while pretending not to notice Everleigh as she hovered nearby, silent and scowling at Marc and herself while rubbing her stomach as though she and the unborn child were plotting their revenge.

When Everleigh could no longer stand it, she declared that unless her aunt was prepared to tell her everything, she had nothing further to say to her. This suited Ophelia better than Everleigh knew. She had promised to say nothing, and a Darkwell keeps her promises. Even if she had not, Ophelia knew she couldn’t bring herself to tell Everleigh how close she had come to danger—how close they had all come—and may yet still be.

Thank you for reading the first episode of The Daughters of Darkwell.

If you enjoyed it, please consider becoming a patron. However much you give, however often you give, your support matters. Your patronage not only keeps me in pens, but makes it possible for me to share this story with you, earn a living as an author, and fund future projects.

#episode no. 1 #the daughters of darkwell #the past is always present #serial fiction serial story #tamitha-t-shepard #featured

0 notes

jonathanryder-blog · 7 years

Text

Super In Depth Background

[ Emotional Abuse, War, Kidnapping and Injury Content Warning ]

OOC: Basically this got really long and whoops that was unintentional.

The Start:

Many people that know Jonathan Ryder would agree that he is the perfect gentleman with the charisma to match it, coming from a very influential Anglo-American family with incredibly close ties to the founding families he had to be. Like his parents at his age, Jonathan also had a bright future placed in front of him. He had the looks, the charm and the connections to be and do anything that he wanted and yet the young man never allowed that to go to his head and instead he worked hard for everything that he accomplished. The last thing he wanted was for people to think that things were just handed to him. That, however, didn’t mean that he was ungrateful for what he had, because he wasn’t. Jonathan loved what he had been blessed with, he had two loving parents that were fortunate enough to give him whatever he wanted and he had friends of all ages from in and around Goldwater to spare. His parents constantly told him how he should always look out for other people, because at the end of the day what you give is what you get back from the world. The Ryders instilled strong family values in Jonathan, values that he carries through every single day of his life.

An adventurous soul with a fascination for nature and being outdoors it was no surprise that his free time began to be spent exploring the ocean paradise in which he lived. Often through his youth Jonathan could often be found playing on the docks of the seafront, swimming in the lakes or exploring the nearby forests. If there’s anyone who knows all the nooks and crannies of Goldwater it’s him; he’s memorised maps of all the best places around town to steal away to get some time to himself where he wouldn’t be disturbed.

His parents and the rest of Goldwater loved him, he was the golden child of town— dedicated to helping those in need without a single complaint, generous and with the perfect grades to match. It was no surprise that whilst he had many friends, there were also many who envied the ease with which he seemed to navigate his seemingly perfectly normal life and were set to tear him down. School for Jonathan went okay, determined to follow in his mother’s footsteps into the world of medicine he kept up his grades despite the other kid’s attempts time and time again to tear him down off his golden path. There were a few occasions where he wavered but he always found his way back. He maintained his dedication to helping others, although grew more reserved in sharing his pastimes with everyone. Jonathan never was the best person at sharing how he felt and school only served to further convince him that repressing his own problems and prioritising other people’s was the best way to cope with what he felt.

Dark Paths:

Medical school is where things started to take a turn for the worse and looking back, Jonathan realises now the emotional abuse he suffered whilst he was there. Paige Martin was two years Jonathan’s senior and the pair hit it off the moment they started talking, the pair were like fire and ice—polar opposites in every way. Where Jonathan was quiet, reserved and shy she was bold, sly and selfish yet for some reason she adopted him into her circle of ‘friends’, helping him out with his work if he in return did something for her. It was small things at first, petty deeds but with time and as their relationship shifted from friendship to relationship the cycle and demands grew in magnitude and frequency. Jonathan was blind to the advantage being taken of his generosity denying any who tried to point it out, willingly giving his time and effort in return for nothing. His grades began to slip as time that should’ve been spent studying was instead spent fulfilling Paige’s whims and wishes with any occurrence where he disagreed being spun and carefully woven by Paige to guilt him into backing down, ultimately convincing Jonathan that whenever things went wrong it was his fault. Eventually, it was the day he caught Paige cheating on him that he finally came to his senses and found the confidence to leave, it was another close friend that ended up pulling Jonathan out of the black hole of despair he had blindly wandered into; his best-friend and closest confidant Ophelia Thorne.

With Ophelia’s help Jonathan got himself back on track, picking up the pieces he worked his ass off until he graduated at the top of his class even going on to do further study as a trauma surgeon. It was no real surprise to anyone who knew the pair, that the closeness which came from a lifelong friendship eventually turned into something else. It took a while for them both to admit it but at 24 Jonathan found himself the happiest he’d ever been; a relationship with a girl he truly loved, career prospects on the rise everything seemed set. As the pair grew older their bond only seemed to get stronger; their relationship was unlike any other and while they thought that nothing would ever get in the way of what they had, they eventually came to realise that they had been very wrong.

Afghanistan:

He was 29 when he discovered his power. After qualifying as a surgeon (an achievement he celebrated with his parents, friends and the few colleagues who could keep up with his ruthless dedication to their craft) he was contacted by MSF. They wanted to give him a job as a field-surgeon in various outposts in war-torn countries, it would be beneath him but the thought of helping those in need was really all it took for Jonathan to say yes. He packed his bags and left for Afghanistan. For seven months Jonathan worked in the active war-zone, treating military and civilian causalities alike and saw first-hand the horrors that came with war. After travelling with a convey of soldiers on a field mission to a village terrorised by local warlords Jonathan and his team immediately got to work treating the sick and injured. For a few days, they worked tirelessly to help the survivors, recovering bodies from collapsed buildings or sharing necessary supplies for survival. It was on the third night in the village when the ambush happened; the insurgents had returned to gather more recruits only to find the small group of workers and their escort.

A skirmish ensued with the soldiers being gunned down, whilst the medical team could only watch on in horror before they were abducted, taken to the terrorist encampment and put in cells to await their fates. The warlord took them each in turn and demanded they treat his forces in return for their lives, his fellow colleagues refused and Jonathan could only sit and wait before the gunshot echoed down the corridor. When he was finally brought before the warlord; stood over the dead bodies of his fellow teammates Jonathan had a decision to make, die here or wait it out and try to survive long enough to make it out of there. With a gun to his head he agreed to do as the warlord bid, and for three months was declared MIA to those who knew him at home. He spent his days and nights working effortlessly, biding his time until the right opportunity presented itself and when it finally did he was ready.

The Change:

The night he escaped the cave system in which he was being held was when the change happened; tripping down a loose rocky outcrop he smashed his head and ripped his hand open landing on a Terrigen crystal. The force of the fall shattered it and triggered his dormant mutant gene. By the time he broke free of the chrysalis the search for him by his captors had been called off and Jonathan was able to make it back to a nearby United States Armed Forces base where he was treated for surprisingly few injuries (finding his wrist and head had mysteriously healed themselves on the way there). He was loaded onto a transport plane and flown back home much to the relief of family and friends.

Aftermath:

The experience was a wake up call to Jonathan; that life was short and brought the things he truly cared about into focus. Recovering from the events in Afghanistan and unconditionally in love with Ophelia he eventually decided that he’d take up a position back in Goldwater and begin his life again keeping the things he held dear close. Of course, things never truly are that simple.

God Complex:

It’s odd how fate seems to intervene at the most inopportune moments, the night that Jonathan was going to propose was the night Ophelia was involved in a life-threatening accident. This is the one and only night that Jonathan has ever truly pushed his abilities beyond their capacity and not managed to kill himself in the process despite the severity of the injury he was treating. This was the night of the most selfish decision he’d ever made yet he could never bring himself to regret it; unwilling to lose the woman he loved and yet, in doing so cemented that very outcome.

Revealing his ability that night was a blessing and a curse, terrified of what was happening to himself to finally let someone else know -- someone he thought would understand and help proved to be the end of their relationship. It was in the days after he learned the truth about Ophelia’s involvement with Vinceret and her nurtured hatred of mutants instilled by her parents from a young age. It was a bitter end to something that up until then had been a driving force in his life; the last thread holding him together after everything he’d been through ripped away when their relationship ended with a large fight.

Jonathan spiralled; unable to stay in Goldwater he ended up signing up again and leaving to rejoin MSF. For the following five years he dedicated himself to the profession, moving from country to country trying to find a way to piece himself back together the only solace he found coming from training and improving his abilities.

Return to Goldwater & Outbreak:

It’s been two years since Jonathan returned to Goldwater, whilst he is still the same man who left in appearance he is far more grounded than he ever was before. Taking up residence on the edge of town near to the lake his views on the recent mutant outbreak are quite clear. He’s mostly against the concept of Vinceret, the hatred and fear that fuels it and everything it represents. He believes it morally wrong to keep those with powers trapped like prisoners -- cut off from the world with no chance to explain themselves or incidents that have happened yet can understands the fear powers can cause.

A pacifist by nature ultimately, he believes that mutants should be allowed to learn how to study and control their abilities safely with help and guidance along the way. and doesn’t trust anyone who shows any sort of anti-mutant agenda.

#background #character development

1 note · View note

karolina-in-the-wonderland · 7 years

Text

Robert/Kathryn/Willow/Liam

AKA WHERE IS IT GOING kind of post.

Does anyone here have any idea where the writers are going with our favorite quadrangle? There are so many issues piling up here with no resolution in sight, I’m starting to wonder what the endgame truly is, and if there even is an endgame.

1. Willow, also known as the Perfect Girl (for Liam, and anyone with a backbone/brain). She has all of the qualities Ophelia lacked, she has a personality, strength, intelligence, heart, suaveness, and even a royal approval. In other words, she’s not just a love interest, she’s plain interesting. While her cards are clearly in the #Liam basket, could there be something brewing between her and Robert? I’m going with a no, because she’s not Kathryn. And if she’s to be a long term love interest, hooking up with Robert wouldn’t be a great way to solidify her position. On top of this, Liam probably needs someone who chooses him, and only him.

My pet theory is that Helena pushed Willow to organize that little Sorting Ceremony to catch Liam’s attention. Once she starts getting involved in Robert’s life/flirting with him, Liam will look at her more closely, plain and simple (and twisted, but hey, that’s the show for you). So, yeah, I think that, in the end Willow is the one who wins it all.

2. ...and Kathryn loses it all. Here’s what we know we don’t know:

- how/when/if Robert finds out about Team Kathryn/Liam (is there even a shipper name here?) - why the show is taking its sweet sweet time with the reveal, when Robert and Liam are already in a horrible place (it’d make sense to add fuel to the fire, unless it’s all about the angst) - what role Kathryn’s sister will play in the upcoming events

Regarding the last one - sure, it’s possible that The Sis is just a sounding board for Kathryn, a plot device to give Kate more scenes, and an insight into her feelings. Could be. But is it? I find it interesting how obsessed she seems to be with the Royal family, and how she seems to be sticking around for more episodes than freaking Willow. She’s Gemma resurrected, so to speak.

In a season chockfull of sibling rivalry, it'd be kind of fitting if Robert found out from her or through her about Liam’s shenanigans.

The other interesting thing is that we’ve never really seen Robert on the offensive. Sure, when Liam’s pushing him, he’s pushing harder, but he’s never the one who initiates the fight. So how will he react once he finally finds out that what’s been really going on behind his back? Everyone expects him to be angry, which would be justified, but I somehow think he might fall apart. He’s too well put together for someone who’s just gone through hell, which is probably his defense mechanism.

Let’s not forget that Kathryn’s the one holding Robert together, she’s the person who came back for. Without her, he might have a bit of a problem. (And Len’s Team Liam these days, too).

I kind of see him walking away. From Kathryn, who kept dating him without telling him what’d happened between her and Liam. From Liam, who should’ve been the one to tell him in the first place, and instead of fessing up, he’d been acting like the one being victimized.

One scenario that crossed my mind was Robert committing suicide, but I’m not sure the show is willing to go that dark. And while a part of Robert’s arc has been about him learning how life moved on without him in the picture, a part of me likes to think he’s also found out how much his family needed him during every fiasco. (Hopefully.)

But, yeah, I fully expect him to get emotional instead of getting revengeful, because it’d shock the hell out of everyone, and remind us once again that this guy’s playing a game out of habit and grooming, and not out of his love for it. And he’s a giant mess.

3. Liam. I like Liam. He’s a genuine, lost puppy, and a hopeless romantic, but the last few episodes have proved that he still has a lot of growing to do. He needs to accept Robert as a king, man up, apologize for his behavior, and accept his role of a ‘hidden weapon’. I can’t imagine him becoming a King (because, yeah, he’s definitely becoming one.. one day) after his most recent behavior, and season 3 would serve no purpose if he didn’t learn anything from the past, and just turned into Cyrus 2.0.

I very much doubt there’s any future for him and Kathryn, because this relationship is partially a projection of his love and jealousy for Robert, and partially an attempt to fill his shoes. For Kathryn, it’s born out of longing for what she’s lost and could’ve had. There’s no way it can go anywhere, not without them seeing each other for who they really are, as opposed to who they want them to be.

So these are my (quite lengthy) thoughts. Anyone has any other ideas? :)

#the royals #liam henstridge #robert henstridge #willow x liam #liam x kathryn

63 notes · View notes

takerfoxx · 7 years

Text

“The True Meaning of Christmas” Thoughts

Disappointing reception aside, I still really liked this story, and it’s worth talking about. So let’s jump in!

Like I said earlier, the premise for this special was actually recycled from the original idea I had for A Very Nineball Christmas, in which the various members of Team Nineball would try to explain the true meaning of Christmas to one another, with each explanation being more outlandish and inaccurate than the last. This was scrapped for reasons that I no longer remember, and the plot of Daiyousei's gift-hunting adventure was used instead. I always had an idea of writing a sequel that recycled the original idea, but it never materialized. However, when I was about ready to call the whole Christmas special thing quits on account of not having any ideas for another PMMM story, I realized that that old idea could be easily adapted into a PMMM setting, so the decision was made.

I knew from the get-go that I didn't want to make it a Resonance Days story, since the show's original setting worked just fine. I also knew I wanted it to be post-Rebellion since Nagisa was perfect for a sort of Little Timmy character for the other characters to try to explain things to. There were some changes to canon though. Everyone's still contracted with Kyubey in this version, even though the end of Rebellion implied that Homura had resolved to take care of the remaining Wraiths herself and would certainly not want Madoka anywhere near another contract. This was ignored to keep things at least somewhat familiar, as delving too far into what-if's would just distract from the story I was trying to tell. Granted, I did indulge in that little deviation with Madoka's vague Christianity, which, as I mentioned, just came from the particular English subs on my copy and doesn't seem to appear anywhere else, but it didn't change too much and stayed within the bounds of acceptable deviation, so it was kept.

Mami's story was sort of tricky. I wanted her to handle the family aspect given what happened to her parents, but unfortunately, the whole happy family at Christmas thing isn't the sort of thing that fills pages. In fact, originally it just had the one page and ended with her going downstairs and finding her parents waiting for her. But as the other stories kept getting longer and longer, I realized I had to beef hers up at least a little, so the whole bit with the arrows and the snowballs was added. Personally I would have liked to have done more, but even that bit of stretching was hard enough as it was, so I just left it.

Now, before I get to Kyoko and Sayaka's stories, let me just take a moment to comment on those two. See, it's no secret that they're my favorite PMMM characters, and I ship them oh so very hard. But the funny thing is, despite writing one of the biggest and certainly the longest KyoSaya fic running currently for the last four years or so, I realized during this story that I had never really written an actual interaction between them. Everything in Resonance Days was all Kyoko and Oktavia, and to date they had never hooked up. They did in Walpurgis Nights, but again, that's Ophelia and Oktavia, not Kyoko and Sayaka. Close, but not quite the actual thing. So this was the first time I ever got to write Kyoko Sakura and Sayaka Miki in a scene together that wasn't a flashback or a dream. And since this is my story and I do what I want, I just went ahead, killed the subtext, and made them straight-up gay for each other. And let me tell you: it was fun, especially since I got to get rid of Kyoko's cynicism and Sayaka's holier-than-thou attitude. As a result, I got a pair of wonderful goofballs that just bounced off one another beautifully. Getting the same chemistry out of Kyoko and Oktavia is always kind of difficult, since there's usually a melancholy note that dampens it. But this was just a delight, and I hope to be able to do something similar in the future.

Okay, let's get to their own stories. I had Sayaka cover Santa Claus, since she's the energetic, fun-loving one even in the original series. And because it's her, I had her butcher it terribly and turn it into her own weird fantasy where she coos over Nagisa (which she totally would) and eventually turns it into a cheesy Sailor Moon-esque show with skimpy outfits and Homura as the evil queen. Because she totally would. That one alternated between being fun and breezy to surprisingly difficult. It's easy to parody something that you are very familiar with, but seeing how I never watched Sailor Moon, I got stuck sometimes. It's easy for me to do silly. I am great with silly. But intentionally cheesy is another kettle of fish, and it proved to be more difficult than I expected.

Anyway, of course Kyoko would handle the Nativity, given her religious background. This story was probably the easiest of the bunch, since I already knew the Nativity story backwards and forwards. But what kind of held me up was exactly how to approach. I'll get into a little more in depth about my own feelings toward Christmas's religious aspects a little later, but even so, if I had her recite the actual Nativity story like Linus did in Charlie Brown Christmas it wouldn't have worked at all. For one, if you're going to go that route, you have to go all in like Peanuts did, and that just wouldn't have worked. It would've stuck out like a sore thumb, taken attention away from the rest of the story, and since I don't personally adhere to the religious aspects of Christmas, it would have felt fake and forced coming from me. Believe it or not, I personally feel that the lighthearted, irreverent parody I went with instead would have been less disrespectful instead, since it was made clear that it was just Kyoko having some fun, the other characters interrupted her constantly to tell her how much she was screwing up the story, and it never directed insulted the source material. Even so, while it was funny and the easiest of the stories, it was also kind of uncomfortable, as even though I don't go personally see Christmas as a religious thing, I don't want to disrespect those who do. That's just not me. So that was a bit of a tightrope to walk, but hopefully no one was offended.

All right, moving on to the next two. Again, it's weird to think about, but even with Walpurgis Nights being a thing, this was the first time I actually had a story that included Madoka and Homura. It was the first time they ever got lines. And that's just weird. For Madoka, I just copied how I did Gretchen in WN, but Homura was…well, I've been doing cold, sarcastic, and contemptuous characters for a while, so she was surprisingly easy to write for. Madoka's story had some issues going in though. I knew I wanted her to cover the romance thing, but like I've mentioned before, that sort of thing just doesn't come easy to me. Mami and Charlotte is pretty easy at this point since I've been developing their characters for so long and worked really hard at making their relationship believable, but this sort of cutesy one-off…well, it took some work and lots of rewriting. It kept veering into Homura almost guiltily confessing how she had brainwashed everyone, and obviously I couldn't include that, so for once I actually had to stop a scene from taking its own path and write something safer, which is not something I do often. I also had to figure out a way to explain why Madoka was sharing such an intimate moment with everyone when she hadn't even admitted that she and Homura were dating, and also find a reason why Homura wouldn't stop her. As such, the whole gimmick of her accidentally transmitting the memory to her soul gem was thought up. For that I feel it worked pretty well. I also got a kick out of the whole bit where Madoka is all embarrassed about coming clean, while everyone else is like, "Yeah, no shit you're gay." It was sort of difficult to think of an explanation for why she and her parents would skip out on having Christmas morning together. At least her totally not canon religiousness came in handy for that.

Anyway, things got darker during Mami's little emotional episode, though Homura did help turn things around. Funny thing is, I always loved the Homucifer twist in Rebellion, since it was a wonderfully dark way to take things, no one saw it coming, but it made perfect sense in hindsight. But I also acknowledge just how messed up Homura became and the many unfortunate implications there are concerning the extent she took her brainwashing of everyone else, especially seeing how she essentially erased Madoka and Sayaka's friendship. But those were implications for another story and I wanted to keep things light, so I just went a vague acknowledgement that this was indeed Homucifer and went for a more optimistic interpretation of her actions and left it at that.

Obviously Homura would be the one to set the record straight at the end, given how few fucks she's giving these days. And of course it would be a dry, Spock-esque recital, complete with her quoting Linus's famous line. Now to do this scene, I had to go back and do a little research of my own. I already knew that it wasn't actually Jesus's birthday and a lot is borrowed from ancient pagan holidays. And I had a fair idea of where Santa came from, and knew about Japan's own Christmas traditions. But a lot surprised me. Turns out Christmas has a really gnarly, and sometimes downright bloody history. Thank God a lot of it is no longer done, but things like caroling and gingerbread men come from some twisted sources. Also, I had heard about the connection between Odin and Santa, but this was the first time I had it confirmed. Turns out there's a lot of old Norse traditions sticking around, which is weird and really cool. But anyway, I felt it was a nice way to end things, with the confirmation that since Christmas has a really weird history that borrows from several dozen sources, everyone's reasons for celebrating it are equally valid.

Now that being said, let's get personal for a moment here. For me personally, Christmas is a weird time. Part of it is due to how I always have to work on it, and Christmas shifts are always pretty stressful, so that's a big bah humbug. And it gets harder to figure out what to get people every year. Further to the point, I was actually raised in a Christian household, so for many years the whole Jesus's birth was really important to me. But as I got older and learned more about the holiday's history I got more and more disillusioned with that bit. I mean I didn't come to have a problem with Christianity itself and certainly never had an issue with anyone who chose to celebrate Jesus's birthday on Christmas. But watching such dumbness like the War on Christmas and people getting all worked up about such things like "Taking the Christ out of Christmas" and moaning about secularization and all that when it was never actually Jesus's birthday to begin with…well, I didn't like it, let's just say that. It just seems like a dumb hill to die on, and seeing people I know and love still carrying on about it just really bothers me.

But even so, while I may be more cynical about Christmas these days, I can't deny that there's just something special about it. I still remember looking forward to it every year, the excitement of giving and receiving gifts, family all getting together and having a great time back before my aunts starting fighting, and just that feeling in the air. I still love Christmas music, Christmas decorations, and just that overall Christmas feel, and while I do like my job, getting my Christmases back is one thing I am really looking forward to once I finally leave.

So I guess right now my feelings toward Christmas are mostly in line with Homura and Sayaka's. There is something weirdly special about it, and it should be a fun day. And all the reasons for celebrating it are equally valid. So let's please stop with the dumb arguing and just have fun together, okay?

1 note · View note