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vierandancer · 8 months

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@diademreigned

There had been an undeniable shift in Meiko since the battle at Ghimlyt. As horrified as she had been at each and every Scion's fall into their mysterious comatose state, she had held out the hope that her brother could figure out how to restore their companions after the battle against Garlemald was won.

He was the Warrior of Light, after all. The real one. The original. Although she, too, had somehow gained Hydaelyn's Blessing after Thordan's defeat, the title never felt like it fit her. She asked the Scions keep knowledge of her role a private matter; a secret back-up plan if necessary.

A back-up for what? For nothing. Nothing, because A'kihiko would never fail. Even his losses were but temporary, and although her contributions were often grouped among his by the public, she took shelter in the anonymity. She was the Warrior of Light's sister. She was a Scion. She didn't need to be any more than that, and never would.

Until that wave of soul-ripping agony at Raubahn's war table was accompanied by the sickening slump of flesh and armor. Until her brother lay at her feet, motionless as the dead while soldiers cried out at Zenos' approach...

Meiko had been confined to bedrest in Ishgard's infirmary for almost two weeks, having nearly succumbed to her injuries in the fight with Elidibus. And when she was not being checked in on by chirurgeons or in a dead sleep herself there was no one to speak with or distract her from her thoughts.

Fear. Frustration. Regret, most of all, not only for what she was helpless over, but for what she had left unsaid. Outside of her brother and the twins, it was difficult for her to approach the other Scions without feeling a measure of embarrassment. Fear of making a fool out of herself in front of Y'shtola, of not knowing what to say to Urianger, and even her early friendship with Thancred had turned vaguely awkward after the loss of Minfilia.

She was always in her own head, assuming that others thought little or ill of her, if anything at all. A well-meaning, troublesome shadow of A'kihiko, who only ever contributed violence and an uncultured point of view, rarely able to keep up with the talk of aether and politic. Truly, she cared deeply for each and every one of them, but never felt she had permission to say so out loud or directly.

It was only as she lay there, bound up in blankets and unable to take a breath without pain, that she bothered to ask herself why. Why, and what did it matter, so long as she knew that the others knew she cared? Why had it taken losing the Scions to get her to see how much she wanted to be closer with them?

She was not A'kihiko. She was not a Hero. But she was the only one, it appeared, who could bring the Scions back to the world that still desperately needed them. No more avoiding the inevitable.

"So what you're sayin' is, if you'd summoned my brother correctly, there wouldn' have been any reason t'call me, is that it?"

It might have been rude to put it that way, but this newfound drive in Meiko had no time to dance around the implications. The Exarch had paused, perhaps surprised by the directness or hoping not to upset their supposed last hope, but eventually conceded.

"That is correct. If both A'kihiko's body and soul would have made it through the rift intact, then we would have proceeded with our plan. Although he does still possess the Blessing of Light to protect him, I did not want to risk his soul being vulnerable to the Lightwarden's corruption."

And although it confirmed Meiko's thoughts of being second choice, she appreciated the Exarch's honesty. It made him easier to trust.

When the time came to decide who she would reunite with first, Meiko of course wanted to run to her brother straightaway; but upon hearing he was working with Alisaie in Ahm Araeng while Alphinaud labored alone in Kholusia, she felt obligated to look after the twin that was on his own. And so she did, and gained a better understanding of the state of the First firsthand.

It was not good. And she found herself all the more distressed by the undeniable similarities she could not help but notice between that region and her home of La Noscea. Even the opulent Eulmore had a air of familiarity around it that just didn't feel right.

Nothing about this world felt right. Knowing how much time had passed since the Scions had arrived here, too, made her ill. But she could not linger on what she could not change.

"S'good to see you again, Alisaie." Meiko had reunited with the Elezen and her brother while they were out on Sin Eater patrol outside of the Inn. Of course, there was little time to really talk as they had to dispatch a handful of the accursed pale bastards as soon as they did.

But they were back at the inn now, and for a moment, they could rest. She had only had a few minutes to hug A'kihiko upon their arrival before he found a new task that needed assistance, but that was fine -- so long as he was alive and well before her, she could wait until they returned to the Crystarium to talk. Alisaie, though -- she was here and unoccupied, and Meiko was going to dote on her just as much as she had Alphinaud when she saw him again.

"I appreciate you keepin' my brother alive in my absence."

#ic.#shadowbringers.#diademreigned #// lol writes 3000 pages of intro #// this is just basically right after the one intro cutscene when youreback from patrol!

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rataltouille · 4 years

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HOUSE PLANTS, UPDATE 1

this has been long overdue. typical, really. [novel intro found here.]

the story is currently eight chapters in but it's also a very strange eight chapters. i’m not really happy with half of these words because they're unnecessary ™ and dull ™ and serve no purpose whatsoever ™. i’m simply choosing to ignore that i need to cut them out. :’] here’s a note i made that perfectly captures my feelings so far:

before we go into the excerpts, i want to talk a bit about how house plants is structured because the format is whack. each chapter ranges from 3000-4000 words. A few vignettes, around 500 words, are sprinkled between these chapters. the chapters narrate events from the fictive past, while the vignettes are snippets into the fictive present [the point from where lilith is retelling the story]. additionally, an important plot thread is told entirely in the form of an epistolary [through letters] and so there's a bit more of confusion to navigate through. fun times.

and now for the excerpts. they're from the first three chapters and are very weird out of context. i think that each update will feature excerpts from three consequent chapters, but that may change as we get closer to spoiler land.

excerpts:

chapter one

the novel kicks off with an odd vignette featuring an unhinged willow and an innocent lilith. chronologically, this is set way back, the earliest scene ever, around when lilith was ten or eleven. it’s meant to establish a sense of unease and to thread the unsettling undertone i’m going for. it's also major foreshadowing but we don't talk about that here. i’m not giving away much because there's not many excerpts to scrape out from a dialogue-heavy vignette like this.

”Here, let me help, mother.”

I tried guiding your palms to the rim of the pot, but you moved them away. From the brief touch, my fingers came away with moisture. On second glance, your knuckles were bathed in sweat. Your veins pulsed and your hands shivered. You gave me a wide-eyed glance, dumped the plant atop the brown, and stood up. You wiped the dirt away on your jeans. From below, with sunlight teetering over your golden hair, you were a personification of God. But were you, really? Does God fear their children? Does God volunteer to garden? I didn't know what God truly meant. I don't now either. But I’m certain it wasn't you.

”Sorry, Lilith. My pollen allergy is acting up.”

It's stunning how it ran in our blood, lying effortlessly.

chapter two

immediately after this we’re pulled off into the linear non-vignette chapter thing, aka the second chapter. [god what am i doing with this structure]. it starts with a soft little reminiscent bit about juniper?? i’m exploiting the tense a lot but it's been fun. (:

The first time she smiled at me is knit into me, like I’m not myself without it. I’m not. She breathed change and I ran with it. Whenever she gazed at me, with sunset dripping behind her head, or with rain clouds dotting her hairline, she’d smile. It was the sound of a ukulele in a winter draft, the kiss of dew on my favourite hemlock, the fond mythical curl of my father’s arms around me. There’s a phantom of love everywhere, and I almost caught it sneaking around her. Even now, Juniper dozes so soundly; she’s replaced everything I wanted you to be and everything you never were. You’d know, of course. You always have.

willow is officially introduced soon after, and so is one of the major plot threads, i.e. lilith’s correspondence with her dad. this excerpt is to show how the family feel about each other became, like i mentioned, there’s a lot of tea to be split here. not gonna lie, this paragraph reads as kinds pure.

You— the town called you Wistful Willow, but they did so behind your back and on postcards to neighbours— had a special lilt in your tone every time you spoke his name. ”Isac,” your lips would curl, almost a smile, and I’d smile back. You loved it, the sound of his name. It had become a ritual for us, pouring our sorrow and joy and unrest and comfort into those two syllables. A fallback plan, I suppose; there was always father to rely on amidst chaos.

willow is constantly at home and she’s probably not seen the outside world in a million years. she either cooks, reads, sits in a bathtub, or does everything at the same time. not odd at all.

The bathroom door, thick oak painted ivory, was right across where I stood. The house was large and empty, and I had three places— study, bedroom, garden— to myself. I lived only with you, so it was mostly quiet, except on Saturdays when we got father’s mail and watched TV together. That Saturday we had seen an old movie from the 70s, a random romance that neither of us cared for, but watched out of duty.

The door was shut. From it came the sound of pages rustling, not unlike a delicate breeze playing with the fronds of croton plants. I knocked softly.

”Come in, ” you said, a splash of water punctuating your voice.

I entered to find you half-immersed in the bathtub, one hand holding a novel, the other limp across the rim. There lingered the scent of soapy water, rose-tinted, and all over the tiled walls was the water’s reflection, a glow of opulence. You were half-naked, your garments drifting like algae. Your habit of reading in the bathtub had been increasing lately. You looked at me, questioning.

there’s also the introduction of lilith’s best friends marcy and faun, where they lay down in the middle of a field after a tiring cricket match and banter all through the evening. i’m really enjoying the trio’s friendship; it's both fun to write and they’re just so pure.

”If you insult Henry one more time, Marce...”

”He actually named the butterfly.” Her eyes were wide and amused; she dug up mud with her nails and flicked it upwards, glanced at me. ”Lilith. He named his fucking butterfly.”

”Faun, it's dead. You keep it in a box, ” I said.

”The dead don't magically lose their names, ” he countered.

Our laughter drafted into town. I don't think it heard.

chapter three

this is kind of uneventful but it sets up some major subplots. i might push it to later in the book, but i’m happy with where it it's right now. lilith randomly keeps reminiscing throughout so that’s convenient. this excerpt is about willow and thus is unreliable as hell. willow ain't good and lilith ain't 100% sincere narrating this right now, so don't let its pureness fool you.

People in town, I’d hear, found you odd and unsociable, cold and distant. I always scoffed when they told me so. They only knew the Willow who never attended community gatherings, who’d gaze out absentmindedly from the porch, who’d more so see than observe, hear than listen. They didn't know the Willow who was my mother, who hated loud noises, who loved her novels with a passion, who spoke so serenely— and rarely— that you hung onto her every word. Only I saw this side of you, and that suited me just fine.

there’s a scene where lilith [accidentally] spies on marcy and another guy. their conversation makes lilith tangent off in her head.

Marcy spoke detachedly, like she was speaking through a filter of not caring. I worried for her and her charade. It didn't help that scented letters confessing love often found their way to her locker, or that roses were shoved in her face as if her admirers loved her so much that they forgot she was allergic to them. Idolisation and adoration took extreme forms; she was stalked for a month and sent death threats. She would put on a disguise of indifference and seem unbothered, but at night she’d soak her pillow and lose sleep, then inform us the next day about her insomnia so casually that we almost forgot how easily she hurt.

i’m not going to lie, the last line in this excerpt was just me indulging myself with the knowledge of the climax. i need to stop slipping in random tone changes like this lol.

My walk home finished quick, though my feet expressed exhaustion. I was right on time, too; you were sitting by your coffee table, glasses crooked upon your nose, a new novel— this one a bright red sky, gold print, gauzy— resting beside warm coffee. You barely smiled, but that was because you were daydreaming. I was familiar with every tell: your eyes would tilt towards my forehead, your lips would stretch, your fingers would drum on whatever you were holding. I’d always let you be when you drowned into your head. Did you ever notice that, Mother? Have you ventured out of your mind to witness my efforts?

and finally some food for thought. yes, that pun was intended. i’ll see myself out.

”Dinner’s ready, dear,” you called. I groaned out my fatigue and left my room, hoping to abandon my unflattering thoughts. In the kitchen, I helped you set the table. Soon we were both sipping hot carrot soup with a side of breadsticks. You were already invested in the novel. I held the spoon, the heat barely registering, and watched you drift through fiction and reality like a will o’ the wisp. Maybe I could read for escapism, too. It would do me good.

that’s all for today! thanks for reading so far; support is, as always, appreciated. hope you liked these excerpts ✨

#house plants #writeblr #am writing #spare some love please i can’t believe the amount of time i spent on this post 😔🙏#house plants update

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