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codynaomiswireart · 1 year

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“Gauze in the Wound” - Part 25, Preview

Hello Tumblr! It’s been a long while!

It’s hard to believe it’s been about five years since I started my “Gauze in the Wound” fic. I wish I had it completed ages ago, but other things in life have had to take priority, and, to be honest, with TTS/RTA itself having wrapped production, a lot of the drive to write fan fiction pieces for it has waned on and off in me during the couple years following its finale. (Plus getting locked out of my Tumblr account for a time didn’t help either. xP)

However, I’m still very fond of the series, and I do want to bring this piece to a conclusion. So, while I don’t have this next chapter fully finished, I did want to post this preview of chapter 25, as a sort of Advent present for anyone still wanting to read the story! Thank you for your patience! This has been a great fandom to be a part of, and I miss the days of geeking out over new episodes and coming up with theories for what was in store next!

I hope you’re all doing well, and are looking forward to a wonderful Christmas season!

All the best, ~ Cody

AS ALWAYS, THIS PREVIEW IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE BEFORE THE FINAL DRAFT!

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"Forgiveness is the name of love practiced among people who love poorly. The hard truth is that all people love poorly. We need to forgive and be forgiven every day, every hour increasingly. That is the great work of love among the fellowship of the weak that is the human family." ~ Henri Nouwen

“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.” ~ C. S. Lewis

“I closed me eyes, I couldn’t see And now I’ve lost all I could be I disappeared, faded away Gave up my world, but now I pray, ‘Give me a chance to mend Let it begin, don’t let it end!’

I wanna live again! I wanna live again! If I could go back then I’d do it all again One day I’m gonna die But I’ll put up a fight till then If I could live again I wanna live again!

When things got hard, I lost control I’d take it back with all my soul Here in this hell, it’s sinkin’ in The slice of heaven I was livin’ in Give me the chance to start Breathin’ it in with all of my heart!

I wanna live again! I wanna live again! If I could go back then I’d do it all again One day I’m gonna die But I’ll put up a fight till then If I could live again I wanna live again…!”

~ “Live Again” by Jeremy Jordan

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“I am Lord Demanitus…”

Of course, at these words, Varian immediately thought of when Zhan Tiri had fooled him with his own lies about being Lord Demanitus. Varian shook his head, certain that Zhan Tiri was just feeding him more illusions. He couldn’t trust this man!

“No!” Varian yelped, taking a step back, feeling the light of the silver people grow more intense behind him as he did so. It made a shudder run up his spine, but the figures behind him didn’t seem at all alarmed as Varian continued to cry out. “D-don’t try this with me again Zhan Tiri! I know it’s you! Y-you’re not going to take me in again, you hear!? I won’t let you!”

But the man only smiled sympathetically before calmly removing one of his gloves. He then held up his bare hand, the back of it glowing with a mark emblazoned upon it. It was the same mark that Varian had seen decorating several of his father’s things that he’d left behind after…after being sealed in the amber – a circle with three marks slashed across one side.

“I understand, Varian,” the man said gently. “But hear me, my son, and know the truth.”

Varian could see the mark on the back of the man’s hand begin to glow brighter and the blue streak in Varian’s hair also lit up in tandem. He heard in his mind the resonance of bright, silvery tones ringing out in beautiful harmony together; quite the opposite to the dull, lulling, droning thrum he’d heard from Zhan Tiri’s magic before.

Somehow, in that moment, Varian knew the truth in the man’s words.

This really WAS Lord Demanitus! Somehow, against all odds and all logic, it was him!

…And he was also one of Varian’s distant relatives!

[“Ab herede Demanitus… “Heir of Demanitus…”]

Seeing the look of realization dawn in Varian’s eyes, Demanitus withdrew his hand, and redonned his glove.

“But I…I don’t understand,” Varian said in a small voice, again conscious of the legions of people surrounding him as he hugged his arms round himself. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Why are-?” Varian swallowed, casting his eyes downward. “Why are you all here? Am-am I just seeing things? Have I gone crazy? I mean, aren’t you all…?”

“Dead?” Demanitus said, finishing Varian’s sentence. Varian bit his bottom lip in response, lowered his eyes again, and conceded a small nod, nervous about offending those standing around him. Perhaps the dead didn’t like to be reminded of the fact.

“Do not be afraid Varian,” Lord Demanitus repeated, laying a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder. “All this… Well, it isn’t quite what you think it is.”

Varian glanced up at the man, confusion written all over his face.

“Do you remember, Varian, how Zhan Tiri told you that the Moon Drop can alter time and space?”

Varian paused, then nodded again.

“In that much, at least, he told you the truth. What you are seeing now is one such warp that the Moon Drop can conjure. That is, it is allowing you to see that which your brain can process regarding the light your ancestors left among the stars.”

Varian stared up at the man, still clearly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“We live deep within the past every day, Varian,” Demanitus continued, directing Varian’s attention to the night sky above them. “Whenever you look up at the stars, you are seeing – in one sense – millions to billions of years into the past, with eons more still on the way. The light that enters your eyes in that moment traveled multiple lifetimes to reach you. And if any living soul out there in the vastness of space could look back at our little marble of Earth, they too would see light that traveled millions of years to reach them from our world. Every passing moment of every day, we choose that which becomes imprinted upon the fabric of space and time, extending outwards for millenia. Every moment, we determine what becomes written among the stars. You can see it here now, as the Moon Drop has pulled from the lives of your ancestors – that is, the record of their lives cast out into the heavens by their light while they still walked the planet – and have made them manifest to your consciousness in a way that you could perceive.”

“…S-so, they’re not…?” Varian swallowed, now glancing at those around him. “Y-you’re not all, er, ghosts then?”

Many of the figures around him laughed (though not a mocking laugh), which rang about Varian with bright, joyful tones – quite different from the mournful moans and wails Varian would’ve expected before this moment. Varian then remembered his own appearance in comparision with them – remembering who the real “ghost” was in this situation – and again hunched his shoulders in embarrassment.

“No, Varian,” One of the nearby figures said, drawing Varian’s attention to her. As the silver lady came close, Varian perceived her as being a great-grandparent on his mother’s side – Thyra, her name was. Despite her having lived to a ripe old age, her appearance didn’t strike Varian as being of any particular age; as if all the moments of her life manifested into one appearance made her somehow as youthful as Varian, yet her face also somehow carried with it the wisdom and experience of old age. Again, Varian realized how he hadn’t thought much about his past relatives before this moment, and it made him shy to be in her presence as she knelt down by him.

“We are not ghosts. The Moonstone can reveal many things, perhaps even glimpses beyond the veil of the mortal plane. But even then, anything seen beyond just a glimpse would completely overwhelm your mortal senses. What you see now are merely shadows of the past, made manifest to you by the Moon Drop so that we may help you.”

“So that you might…help me?” Varian asked, suddenly remembering the situation he had been in before blacking out. Zhan Tiri had a hold of him, Xavier had been captured as well, and any help that may have been possible from the Captain and the guards was blocked from any advance. Varian lowered his eyes again.

“What is the matter?” Demanitus asked invitingly, giving Varian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“How?” Varian murmured, feeling his heart break all over again. “How is any of this supposed to help me? I can’t- I’m useless back there! And we’re just wasting our time again! Zhan Tiri’s going to-!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Varian,” another figure interrupted. “Time… works a bit differently here. You’ll be able to prepare for the coming fight well enough. That is, if you so choose.”

“‘If I choose?’” Varian repeated back, feeling borth a flare of hope and caution spark in his chest. “You mean… there’s still a way to stop Zhan Tiri!?”

“Indeed,” Demanitus replied with a nod.

Varian’s eyes widened, and he found himself grasping the man’s shoulders in urgency, in hope. “Please, Demanitus! Tell me what I have to do!”

“I will tell you, my son,” Demanitus said, his expression both pleased with Varian’s response, but also now shifting to seriousness. “The only way to stop Zhan Tiri now is to release his grasp on you; to release his grasp on your heart.”

At these words, Varian brought one hand to clutch at the fabric of his shirt over his heart where he’d felt Zhan Tiri’s horrible squeezing and tugging before. He nodded. “R-right. So… how do we get him to let go of me?”

“I’m afraid,” Lord Demanitus continued, “it’s not a matter of Zhan Tiri letting go of you now, Varian, but of you letting go of Zhan Tiri.”

“What!?” Varian yelped in disbelief, releasing Demanitus’s shoulders. “W-what’re you talking about? Z-Zhan Tiri’s the one holding onto me!”

But Demanitus shook his head (though not unsympathetically). “You are forgetting, my son. The truth is, Zhan Tiri would have no foothold inside of you if you did not allow him to. The tether runs both ways.”

Varian stared back at the man – offended, bewildered – and opened his mouth to retort him. How dare this man have the gaul to suggest such a thing! Did he not see how hard Varian had been fighting against Zhan Tiri just now!? What could possibly make him think that Varian-!?

But then, Varian did remember. He remembered taking Zhan Tiri’s bonding serum, and the feelings of hatred, revenge, guilt, shame and anger that the demon conjured from him whenever the boy would try to stray from what the demon wanted him to do. To be fair, Varian had tried to say no. He had tried very hard in fact. But the feelings, the memories, the hurt kept coming back. Even if Varian tried not to think about it himself, Zhan Tiri made sure he didn’t forget. He kept Varian stuck there, replaying again and again all those things that made him so angry, so saddened, so self-justified, yet also so hopeless in his feelings.

Varian winced as he felt another tug at his heart at these thoughts; the tug of the invisible chain that kept him tethered to it all. It hurt, yet Varian also felt justified in its existence. He didn’t like it… but he also found he didn’t want to get rid of it. This realization startled him, and Varian found the need to run his hands through his hair, and take a deep breath.

“Then… what do I do?” Varian managed to croak out in a small voice. “If I can’t let this go, what hope is there?”

“Exactly!” Demanitus replied, and Varian wondered how the man could sound almost triumphant at these words. Perhaps Varian had gone mad, or Lord Demanitus had. It suddenly struck Varian with the horrible possibility that perhaps the benevolent alchemist of old wasn’t as benevolent as the stories made him out to be. Varian closed his hands into frustrated fists as he looked up at Demanitus in utter bewilderment.

“Listen, Varian…” Demanitus continued gently, kneeling down to Varian’s level and clasping Varian’s hands in his own. As he did so, some of the silver people placed their hands upon Demanitus’s shoulders, and those closest to Varian placing their hands upon his shoulders. Those further away opted to place their hands on the shoulders of the silver people in front of them, until they were all connected in a vast framework of sorts. Varian shut his eyes as he felt their touch, and only fear kept him from trying to shove them away as he felt the magic inside him respond to the network that formed around him; a chorus of soft, angelic tones beginning to ring just on the edge of his hearing as it did so.

“There is still hope,” Varian heard Demanitus say to him, as he could see the light of the silver people grew brighter around him from behind his closed eyelids. “It will be hard,” Demanitus continued. “In some ways, it won’t fair. I may even involve a kind of death for you. But you do have the power to change things, my son – to open up the future to possibilities for yourself, and for others as well, and to be free from Zhan Tiri’s grasp.”

“But how?” Varian asked, feeling the tightness around his heart again as he squeezed Demanitus’s hands back in tandem.

“You must forgive,” answered a chorus of voices both outside Varian and inside his mind. He flinched at it. One reason was from the sensation of again encountering such a large company of voices, like on the night his powers first awoke inside of him.

The other reason was… well, frankly, he didn’t like the answer.

“Forgive?” Varian asked tersely, and with a hollow laugh, his frustration reaching its height now. For a moment, Varian did try to contain his inner thoughts and emotions on this point, especially in front of the celestial court that had turned its attention to him. But somewhere in the company around him, Varian felt a coaxing for him to share more, and before he could think to stop himself, he found himself crying out. “How!? How can I forgive what they did to me? What theydidn’t do for me? Old Corona is gone, and if-if Dad is dead, it’s all their fault!”

“It’s all their fault!”

Varian started, his eyes snapping open as he heard the voice shout in chorus with his.

But- wait, where’d everyone go!?

Varian looked about him. Demanitus and the silver people around him had vanished, and he was now not on the Celestial Plain, but in a dark corridor, lit by dim torchlight.

And yet… Varian thought he could still sense the presence of Demanitus and the others nearby. If he let himself focus long enough, he thought he could even still feel Demanitus’s hands holding his own. But what was-?

“Those traitors!” the voice came again, Varian immediately turning his attention back to it. Cautiously, Varian went and peered through the doorway at the end of the cooridor where the voice had sounded from. What Varian saw was a crowd of people, all assembled in a large chamber, wearing hooded cloaks, and the speaker standing upon a central platform.

“Hear me, sons and daughters of Saporia!” the speaker shouted. “Are we not obligated to seek payment for the blood of our fallen brethren? Our queen and her cohorts have spat upon their graves and brought dishonor to their struggle – surrendering our cause just as the hour of victory was upon us!”

A series of outraged shouts and curses rang through the hall at the man’s words.

“But we will not forget!” the man continued. “We will not allow our brethren’s sacrifice to be in vain! For today, we form a new order – founded upon the memories of these warring days, founded upon memories of blood, founded upon the honor of Saporia, and founded upon the cause to destroy Corona!”

A great roar went up from the crowd, and Varian felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up in apprehension. What was going on?? Who were these people!?

“Today, we are the Separatists of Saporia!” the man decreed, answering Varian’s unspoken question, and drew a sword in his fist. He raised it to the sky. “For Saporia!”

“FOR SAPORIA! FOR SAPORIA! FOR SAPORIA!” the crowd repeated.

“But…why am I…?” Varian began to ask himself, still puzzled about what he was seeing, and why. But then…

“Now, my brethren,” the spokesman said, sheething his sword as the cries died down. “It is no secret that at present, we do not have a force strong enough to overturn the outcome of this war. However, there is one among us who has a plan that, in due time, will bring us back to our once glorious place among the kingdoms.” Here, the man gestured to a figure behind him. “Zhan Tiri, if you please.”

Varian’s eyes widened, and he froze. He dared not move as he watched the cloaked figure come forward, the man pulling back the cowl of his cloak as he did so. Varian supposed he shouldn’t have been astonished that Zhan Tiri looked rather different that the other times Varian had seen him. He was a shape-shifter after all. But somehow, Varian was taken aback by… well, how normal he looked. Save for the dark, bitter cloud resting upon his countenance, and the slight points at the ends of his ears like an elf, Zhan Tiri looked like most any other man, perhaps in his late twenties or so. Many might even had called him handsome. But unlike his face, his words were far from lovely.

“Fellow Saporians,” Zhan Tiri began, his voice carrying throughout the chamber. “Like you, I too feel ashamed by the weakness of your queen. Nay! No longer shall she be called your queen! She has forgone that right since turning her back on her people, and allying herself with the accursed Herz der Sonne!”

The crowd let off more shouts and curses.

“However,” Zhan Tiri said, waiting a moment for the crowd to quiet down as he raised a hand. “There may still be a way for us to achieve victory. While I am not of your race, your people have been good to my people for many a year, and this will not be forgotten. The people of Corona have forgotten the old ways of magic, and have instead turned to their machines of metal – a detestible thing to us fae! And no offender among the Coronians has been worse than that of Lord Demanitus!”

Yet again, the speech was interrupted by a roar from the crowd. Varian found himself shrinking back further behind the door, and would’ve made a run for it to escape before he was discovered. The atmosphere was feeling far too intense for his liking. But, again, he thought he felt the hand of Demanitus in his own, holding him tight, urging him to stay in place. Varian obeyed, and continued to listen.

“But, as I suspect many of you know,” Zhan Tiri proclaimed with a wicked grin (making his ordinarily handsome face now eerily uncanny), “we fae have our ways of getting what we want.”

A hostile chuckle rumbled through the crowd.

“I must ask you to be patient, my friends,” Zhan Tiri said. “For in order to build up our strength, we must first work on deceiving our enemies. Fortunately, that deception has already begun, for your former queen has seen fit to assign me to work with Lord Demanitus – something about a joint effort to rebuild the destruction and devisions between our two sides or some such useless, platitive effort.”

A murmur of mocking sounds went through the crowd at these words.

“I know, I know,” Zhan Tiri continued. “Unashamed, nonsensical tripe! But I assure you, I shall use this opportunity to get in good with the brightest minds of Herz der Sonne’s entourage, and with this knowledge, we can rebuild our forces, know our enemy’s weaknesses, and take these lands for ourselves – once and for all!”

(End of preview)

#it's been a looooong time #gauze in the wound #tts #rta #varian #tts varian #rta varian #lord demanitus #zhan tiri #tts gauze in the wound #rta gauze in the wound #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #angst #forgiveness #hope

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phantasmaw · 2 years

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Sovann’s an interesting and sometimes very frustrating paradox to write at times. They’re a walking poisoned fruit, a sentient venomous sting that could have once an anointment, if only they hadn’t committed “the sin of existing without consent”. They were altered by false gods, purposely conditioned to bring out the worst in people and to inflame anything that causes bad feelings. They and their kind were originally meant to create and foster, not to destroy and plague– but that was all turned on its head for empty gain. Now all that’s left is a shadow of what could have been. And they are confused. They want better, they want healed, they want kindness, they want atonement, they want simplicity. But what is any of that? Is it something attainable? Now it’s all coated in layers of bitterness and hatred, in maladaptive development, in grief that’s twisted to malice and spite. And what they do with it is as much of their own volition as it is acting out on all that’s left of what they were conditioned for.

They know they could “be better”. What does “being better” look like, though? They could be the sweetest, most caring person in the world and want nothing more than to coexist with others peacefully and STILL cause controversy and turmoil. In their bitterness and spite and grief and generally anything they feel that they know they can call their own, they’ve chosen to adopt this attitude they harbor. It’s their arrow in their heel, their most fatal flaw, that they cling and cling and cling to what hurts them, what hurts others, simply because it is a comfort to know hasn’t left them yet. And they know it’s all on them but they also don’t understand what that actually means. They feel regret and sorrow for what they have done in a not-so-distant past. They feel proud of it, too. So that translates into what’s seen now. They don’t desire free pity, they don’t desire anyone to know of their suffering and try to forgive them. It’s as much a defense mechanism from the strain of breaking and re-assimilating as it is how they naturally are. They don’t have any true ulterior motives. It’s all an act but it’s all real. Like I said above: at their core, they’re confused, and this is how it manifests, something they take ownership of without actually knowing what taking ownership means. With time and proper development, this could very well change. It’s entirely possible to have a good relationship with them that’s reciprocated. It’s entirely possible for them to more fully take on the weight of their misdeeds. BUT, it’s the same as going through a strenuous detox: for everything they put in to be “good” or “bad”, it hurts them, and their hurt is meant to be the bane of others, and they have to expel it all somehow.

The more you’re around them, the more it will become painfully (and I do mean painfully, it’s like watching a wounded animal struggle not to die from infection) obvious that they are trying with all their will to “be better”. But they’ve been turned inside out (metaphorically– physically, to an extent), bastardized, and now the consequences are being reaped by Sovann and everyone besides the ones who should be reaping it all. Those consequences could be turned to benefits. They just have to fight for it like they’ve never fought before-- which is saying a lot, considering [gestures at their whole shitshow life]. Currently, that fight’s turning into a losing battle (depending on verse and thread-- in canon? Totally different story.)

#about : sovann #* some of this is copied from archived blog but a lot of it is from rambling in my private google docs #* i need to do a piece comparing feris n sovann since they're each other's foils #* closer u get to sovann the more u realize there's healing; it's just healing in the way a nasty infection heals #* closer u get to feris the more u realize he's like an open wound someone's just slapped gauze on and left to fester #* vis is. stares at him. insane in every way but still functional LMAO

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