I'm so sorry, I'm absolutely losing it. I went to my neighbor's today to find out what I would need to do to care for their puppy this weekend, and This Fucking Thing appeared ajgldfkjhfg she is a turkey hen. you know, the birds who quite famously look like this
with no feathers on their heads, or very little, mostly along the spine/top of the head... and this gal just rocks up with not only a LITTLE bit of feathering, but almost completely covered. Even her WATTLE had feathers.
I'mc rying
i said, what the hell is going on here? and they were like
her name's Fluffy
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okay so i was thinking about ahuru, as one does, and i was thinking about how much i don't want her death to just. be keika's backstory, yknow??
like i don't want to reduce her to just the main characters motivation, which is why i try to give her so much life in any scene she's in. but i think i wanna like- so, ahuru's death literally shapes nobodies hero, right? there'd be no story to tell if she hadn't been killed. and that's kind of a Big Deal to me.
so i think i'm going to symbolise the fuck out of birds. foreshadowing or whatever.
like when keika first meets mattie- he's in priah and he still doesn't have his memories back. he decides to go for a walk, just wandering through the mushrooms and the woods and then all of a sudden a game bird gets shot with an arow right in front of him. and when he looks up, he sees mattie with a bow and arrow, and that's how they meet.
and then in the next book it's revealed that Mattie is, technically, responsible for ahuru's death. it wasn't personal, in the same way hunting that bird wasn't personal, it was just...self preservation. they just shot an arrow and watched it land.
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Spill the beans on Black Raven! Spill the beans! Spill the beans!
(in regards to this ask game)
You are going for the THROAT, my friend.
Black Raven is the working title for a truly old, deeply teenage angst inspired power fantasy I haven't actively worked on in quite some time. It's based on me and my older sibling. It came to me in a dream. It's so old that I wrote it in German, okay, which should tell you something about how deeply I cringe when I have to go back through the earliest parts.
But it's also... kind of cool?
Explanation of magic system and my fucked up birdgirl of a protagonist under the cut.
First of all, there's the magic system. Creating new spells is a lifetime effort: They're personal things, confined to the bearer. They're also weak, powered only by the emotions and dedications of one person. But - upon the bearer's death they do get passed on. That's when they get stronger.
Noble families have Spells that have been passed on through countless generations. They're powerful and unwieldy and highly regulated. Lesser families might have developed a spell of their own: they can develop spontaneously, but they rarely reach the kind of strength that is cultivated in a family with preparatory studies and passing-on ceremonies.
It is possible - if dangerous - to hold multiple spells at once. They interact with each other in unpredictable ways, and can rip away your humanity as easily as make you stronger. It is therefore highly illegal.
It is also possible - if difficult - to force someone to pass their Spell on to you. If you are the only person present at their death, well. Who else could it go to? It might not work as well as a proper ritual, but it does work.
And there is one surefire way to ensure that setup, isn't there? You just have the one who kills them.
Unsurprisingly, being a Spellripper is even more illegal than just holding multiple spells. Of course, those who make a career out of it tend to do both.
Second, there's my certified little freak of a protagonist. Care's parents died young and she was raised mainly by her sister; until Aria was offered a job for which she had to leave the country. We know Aria only agreed to it because it gave Care the opportunity to go to school. We also know that that did not work out as well as they thought.
Fast forward by ten to fifteen years. Care is a quiet student of thaumaturgy; known to be a commoner whose family came into money late in her life. She rents a room from an old lady outside of Campus, who has decided to give the clearly anxious girl as much family time as she possibly can. When that lady figures out that Care's missing sister is the famous singer Ariadne, she tries to get the sisters to reconnect.
The problems, in order, are these:
Aria feels incredibly guilty about having ever left Care behind, and vows to take her along this time.
Now she feels incredibly guilty about keeping secrets.
This would be because Aria's work as a singer is only a cover. She was actually scouted as a spy all those years ago.
Care is very well aware of this.
Aria doesn't know that Care knows about it though.
She also doesn't know that Care ran away from school as a mere teen, turning instead from petty thievery to serious burglary, to full on Spellripping.
Or that at some point throughout this, Care was actually caught by the city's government, and force pressed into working for them.
Meaning they are now opposite sides,
only one of them knows about it,
and both are being eaten alive by guilt.
And that's that!
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This tiny little barb feather is an ear feather! It is one of many that cover Bug's aural cavity, to protect it from getting dirt and other debris in it. They're also differently colored than the feathers around them, making the circle of the ear stand out in their face!
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“Happy Valentine’s Day, Balthazar and Tristian!
I hope all is well in the once-Stolen Lands! The hardest part of moving back to Cheliax away from Mendev is the distance between my old diplomatic allies turned friends. On this day of love and friendship, I extend my most cheerful of celebrations to you two! Please take it easy today, the kingdom can afford one day of a break, Balthazar. I promise it’s not going to all fall apart. You’re lucky Tristian has the patience of a saint.
Hopefully these gifts will give you an excuse to step off the throne for a little bit! The wine and cheese is local to Cheliax. Of course, I don’t know how it compares to what you guys produce over there, but I hope it at least is palatable enough for a date night! I’ve also sent along some books on ancient arcane rituals that might interest you - Regill would’ve insisted they be thoroughly examined for anything dangerous… which technically you can do. We won’t tell him. It’s wrapped in the fashion magazines last I picked up from Absalom - I hope I didn’t bend their pages doing so! I remember you also being really into that sort of stuff.
I also sent along some balm I found when I was there for feathers. I can’t believe how soft it’s made mine, I really just had to pass it along to you too! I know what a huge pain it is to care for them, especially with your wings. Hopefully you find it useful! I’d love to come visit sometime - if you have any other world ending cataclysms, I’m just a Sending away!
-Warm regards, Minovae!"
My dear Minovae,
Though this letter falls into your lap a touch late for me to properly wish you well for the holiday, I can certainly send my hopes that you spent it pleasantly with that husband of yours. Though duty never takes a holiday, I must say you more than earned the rest. I can only hope you enjoyed a long and indulgent vacation for the holiday. Perhaps at the spas you have told me so much about, or maybe enjoying that evergreen Chelaxian theater scene (though I confess I can’t imagine Regill sitting through an opera without making his displeasure quite known). Tristian sends regards as well, and is with me insisting on knowing what I put down. He has doubts about some of the books, Minovae- you will have to reassure him when next you write.
As for us, you needn’t have worried. The toil of the realm is ceaseless, it’s true, but I do still know how to enjoy myself. Spending a day like that bent over petitions and tax documents… if that ever happens, I’ll be the first calling for revolution. No, we didn’t do even a little work on the date, I’m happy to say. Tristian even came back to bed after dawn prayer- the closest to sleeping in I think we manage. It was a fairly quiet affair this year (no travel or shows this time around), but the time in was well spent. I’m sorry to have missed your gifts on the day! I do miss the cuisine of the Inner Sea- the wine and cheese would have been an excellent addition to the evening. You speak far too modestly of your gifts. It will be a long while before anything as fine emerges here.
At any rate, between the fine southern vintage and the news of Absalom, you’ve awoken something of a nostalgia in me. You’re in danger of playing host rather than visitor if this continues. I only half jest- I’ve been playing with the idea of some “diplomatic tour” as excuse for a while now. But I suspect you can tear yourself away from your post somewhat easier than I, and we would be happy to have you again even sans cataclysm. Here- I’ve sent some things along that might tantalize you. That pendant should be a lovely complement to your eyes- though it’s been some time, I should think I remember their color well enough. It was crafted by one of the artisans near Lake Silverstep, who sought to capture the silver-blue of the mountains not only in the frame for the gem but that thread-thin chain as well. What a lovely coincidence that hue is also counted among your scales! The music box is Pitaxian and is from both of us- there have always been renowned instrument crafters in the city, but what a delight to see the songs themselves captured, yes? And speaking of the region… a lovely Sarain white. I’ve no local cheese to send to pair it with, sadly. At times like this I wish that Jubilost were still here. Much as he could be an insufferable ass, if you could sit through his scoffing at your ignorance there really was no one better at finding the right local complement for any vintage (Tristian wishes you to know he strongly objects to my word choice, though he cedes Jubilost could be “somewhat overbearing”). At any rate, the vintage is citrusy, a touch dry, and pairs well with something salty but mild. If you’re near enough to Westcrown, I’ve also heard it works splendidly with oysters.
Yours truly,
Balthazar and Tristian
P.S. The balm really is a marvel. You’ll have to tell me where you got it, as I’m already sure I’ll mourn its absence when it’s gone.
(author's note: I wrote the tags before the letter and now I'm too scared of them to change them whatever's happening down there is happening)
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