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#(Lann deserves better so much better)
another-heroine · 1 month
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A Lovely Hand
Last one for the OC Kiss Week. I had so much fun. Even the lack of confidence about my English writing was lifted away.
Last, but not less important, this is about my fav girls in the entire Golarion. Kadira belongs to @spyridonya and Ekaterina is a well known figure around here because I’m obsessed for her lol
Thank you again for coming aboard with me and those mental barbies, Spyri.
CW: Period cramps, a ton of pain, sleeping together, just Katya being Katya
If she lay quietly, nobody would ever notice what was going on. Kadira was sure about it. She said good night to the others and slippered into her bedroll, only letting the pain flow after she was all covered up.
Good gods, how it hurted. And in those wastelands it was impossible to find any kind of herb that could relieve the sensation of her womb attempting to kill her. Kadira tried to extinguish the cramps with a magical trick, but she was so tired and disoriented it was useless.
She pouted. That was it. There was no escape.
Everybody was already asleep, except for the watchers. But she would not bother Lann, nor Ulbrig, about it. Actually, telling any of them surely would be an embarrassing situation at least — the first was too awkward, the latter probably would recommend nonsensical methods.
She had to endure it alone. It was not like the first time she was by herself though.
The woman was so deep in her ache that barely heard muffled steps approaching. A shiver ran down her spine when she finally realized that someone was right behind her. Her tail snapped under the blankets as a reflex. But soon the soft glow coming from the silent person made her nerves relax: it was Ekaterina.
“Sorry,” the aasimar said hushed. “May I sleep with you?”
Kadira felt flustered, and covered her nose like a shy kid. “Sure,” babbled.
She knew the question was really about that: only. Sleep. Ekaterina was not like Daeran, though Kadira noticed he was acting much more respectful towards her lately — in Daeran's way, of course.
The aasimar put her bedroll next to Kadira and at first sat over it. Her hair was already down, and she took off her baubles before finally joining the tiefling that night.
“There,” she giggled, pulling Kadira close. “Not quite as comfortable as we deserve, but better than nothing, right?”
Kadira nodded. Her womb twisted harder than before and she bit her lip. Damn.
The slight movement made Ekaterina frown. “Something wrong?”
Kadira swallowed. She was not Lann nor Ulbrig, thankfully. The sorceress could count on her.
“I'm… I'm sore.” Kadira turned around, slipping her tail under the blankets. “We were so busy lately that I forgot to keep track of my moons…”
Ekaterina's eyes arched. “Oh…”
“I know, it’s bad.” Kadira dropped her gaze, feeling ashamed. It was not her fault and she should not feel that way, but…
“Excuse me, my dear.”
If she was not dealing with that lot of pain, Kadira would be stiff and blush. But she let the druid rummage over the bedroll, reaching for her belly with warm hands.
“Tell me where it hurts.”
“You are on the right spot,” she affirmed.
Katya closed her eyes and concentrated. Her hand became warmer and Kadee felt magic rushing through them. It took a while to work. She took deep breaths, resting her forehead on the woman's shoulder, inhaling her scent.
When the cramps were lifted for now, Kadira finally felt her eyelids heavy. She was relaxed enough to drift to Desna's realm.
“Better?” Ekaterina asked, leaving a kiss among her thick black curls.
Kadira agreed. “Thank you.”
The druid buried her cheek in her lover's hair. “Good night, Kadee.”
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armagnac-army · 3 days
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*Murat comes up to Lannes with two cut crystal goblets and that bottle of Cabernet Ney gave him earlier. He looks really fucking wrung out, but he’s still here. Without saying a word, he pours two glasses and hands one to Lannes.*
Not your usual, I know, but I think it’s better shared.
*And he leaves an opening for Lannes to say whatever he wants.*
— @your-dandy-king
Thanks mon ami.
*Lannes takes the glass, but doesn't drink it yet.*
i know your hurting much more than me but it means a whole lot that your willing to stick up for me.
i think i can imagein what its like to expect someone to be there for you but its turns out theyre a bitch and mayb you never even knew them in fhe first place.
not going so far as to say i know what thatrs like but theres quite a few people thats a littl like that for me.
but for you maybe theres a facet of her out there in this bizaarre afterlife thats more like the her you knew and thats hope to cling onto to!
if i had the chance to see louise and the kids im not sure i should take it because mauybe hoping that they miss me is better than what i suspect. i know that she wasnt good to napoleon afterwards. i think our values were incompatible in the end.
fuck im rambling about myself again
point is im not going to apologise for lettin you know about junots bullshit because you deserved to kno but i am sorry that you had to have your heart broken like this.
you should go hang with duroc and... bessie
hate tp say it but bessies good to you and thats what matters
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asoiastarks · 8 months
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Da*mon (targ)stans : Nooo he was good husband and father what he did was for good reason its justify ( whole thread of tweets why b&c is justified ) TARGS ARE THE BEST HOUSE THEY DID GOOD THINGS FOR 7 KINGDOMS THEY NEVER DID BAD THING ALL WHAT THEY DID FROM CRIMES AND GENOCIDE IS JUSTIFIED ITS THE FAULT OF THE OTHER HOUSES ESPECIALLY HIGHTOWERS
Lannister stans : I like jaime cersei and tywin BUT tywin us bad guy he litreally killed elia because aerys choose her over cersei he did it to insult martells he is bad guy a bad dad he never loved his kids as his own he litreally saw them as legacy for house of lannister
Cersei was not a good mom and jaime is the same he wasn't good person he did alot messed up stuff and he should answer for it so dose cersei
you’re so right anon. it’d be better if people didn’t insist upon having to have the moral high ground in factions that are the exact opposite of such. neither team black or team green are morally good, nor are any of the houses in asoiaf. (pro and anti house stark meta, especially regarding their role with theon as a hostage is a good example, as well as the same for house baratheon, outside of the two houses we’re focusing on here). characters like d*emon do not have to be “morally grey” (which has been overused and pretty much lost most meaning and now functions as code for evil but i like them so they can do no wrong) or “morally pure”, and never in my life have i seen people argue for why tywin, cersei, etc, are all righteous for their heinous actions, despite the nuances of their psyches and narratives. it’s only ever to explain why they’d act or react in such ways, which isn’t excusing their behaviours in the slightest. understanding why ≠ thinking it’s okay. and on that same point, whilst d*emon’s actions can be explained easily (it was revenge and in a time of war) the murder of jaehaerys and mental torture and trauma caused to jaehaera, maelor and helaena cannot be justified by fandom or the narrative in any sort of way. the dance is not solely to blame on the hightowers or the rest of the 7k, it’s a reflection on the constant changing of targaryen succession laws e.g. rhaenys vs viserys, queen rhaena’s daughters placing before jaehaerys i in succession but jae being crowned, the conflict that was daenerys and aemon prior to daenerys’ death, etc, even viserys’ remarriage, thus resting blame for the dance on house targaryen (it was a civil war for a reason). b&c is not deserved, nor do any of those kids deserve to suffer because of what their uncle did by killing lucerys. (and if targ stans want to argue that, do they then think dany should be punished for the crimes her father, brothers and ancestors committed?)
i express my dislike for d*emon fairly regularly, and if you’ve come from the post i think you have then you’ve already seen my thoughts on him. so i don’t think it warrants more discussion. instead i offer a little meta. the targaryens and post-tywin lannisters are consistently shown to commit atrocities (wiping out houses, child murdering, usurpation, etc) and something I’ve noticed is that in asoiaf house lannister’s downfall stems primarily from tywin trying to strengthen it by emulating aerys’ and the targaryen’s structure of fear based power, when traditionally their power came through wit (e.g. lann the clever). cersei and jaime’s incest could be an alternate representation of how trying to targ-ify their house impacted them all negatively (joffrey’s madness, war, gold their crowns/gold their shrouds) and the weakening of their power through such actions, same as rhaegar and cersei’s connections to prophecy and a desire to either ensure it does/doesn’t come true (the prince that was promised and gold their crowns/a younger more beautiful queen). all of which are similar to how the consistent inbreeding, violence and warped family dynamics of house targaryen caused infighting and screwed them all over.
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spyridonya · 1 year
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For the Reverse Unpopular Opinion meme...tell me what you think about the other companions in Wrath, besides Daeran and Lann!
*DEEP BREATH* I focus on the good and not the bad of the following characters.
Arue wasn't quite the dream girl I had hoped for, but I still like her very much, and I'm honestly glad she was different from what I hoped. I liked her struggles to become better, I liked her sweetness to those who gave her compassion and her sheer bafflement on the occasion. My only sincere wish was showing more of a struggle in action than being told of it. I really wished her quest wasn't so black and white in Act 4, though I know such a thing couldn't be possible due to the writing of other characters.
The entire character of Camellia is ingenious. There is no redemption, there is no twist of love saving her, she's really that evil. Her characterization is perfect, she's cruel, cutting, and wears such a pretty mask. My only misfortune with Camellia is playing good female characters of either high intelligence or wisdom, so Cameilla doesn't have a chance to try and corrupt my KCs. Her treatment of Ember and Lann is breath taking in hit’s meanness. Her coxing up to a noble despite her peasant heritage and bastard status seems on point, and how she fools Sosiel is hilarious.
Ember is a charming character and I love her. I love her naivety and her innocence, I love that she's determined to do her best and forsake the gods, I love that the game allows her to be a paradox (because one of the deities loves Ember very much) but never calls her out on it because of her age and her trauma and genuine desire to help others. But... but I don’t want to take my smol daughter out in battle and I’m not giving her Hellfire Ray because that’s EVIL. ... though casting it on Baphomet and sending his essence straight to Asmodeus would be great.
Greybor is someone that I'd think I'd enjoy more if I sat down and respec his build. There's a lot of lore and crunch that don't fit with this guy. Regardless, I do enjoy him and his quips. He's very low key and while I don't entirely agree with his alignment, he's a great 'Cool Uncle' character that I should just enjoy.
Nenio makes me laugh. I really adore her kitsune form in theory, though I feel the artwork compared to her human portrait has no personality. Fan art tries to make up for that. Regardless of the portraits, Nenio zooms in with a comment or two that makes me laugh out loud, which is a total rarity in most games I play. ... And I really think she's one of the best portrayals of True Neutral I've seen. I know a lot of folks code her as autistic, but I'm not entirely sure if I agree, because poor social skills and hyper fixations are symptoms of many neruodivegant folk.
Regill is such a wonderful character. The initial impression of his design is such a whiplash from the character we actually get. At first glance you're seeing a three foot tall man with hair akin to a troll-doll in edgy black armor before you take in the details -- the character is old. Still, so much could have gone wrong with this character, and yet Owlcat nails everything. The writing takes the premise seriously enough to be intimidated, but allows enough levity to make Regill endearing, and never forgets at his core Regill is a gnome. And then Owlcat nails it all down with the perfect voice performance for him, something that could destroyed this character completely. Regill is such a high risk character, and Owlcat slammed it with a home run.
Seelah's personality is one of the best for a paladin I've seen in years! Warm, kind, and following her duties while putting goodness first. She likes to drink, she likes being with people, she likes giving people the chances that she was given - she's heavily GOOD and I adore it. I feel like her quest deserved far more thought and effort like Amiri's was given in Kingmaker.
Sosiel is someone that I don't play with enough, simply because in my first run I was the buffer and Daeran is a better healbot/blaster. However, he was exactly what was needed for Shelyn in Owlcat games after a horrific introduction with Valerie's quest. He was sane but naive, sweet and impressionable, and his faith is slowly put to the test that he fairs well in. On the surface, Sosiel would feel better in a more down to earth game when not romancing him. When you romance him as a demon, Owlcat goes places that few CRPGs do with LI who falls for someone who is actually evil, and how love can be corrupted.
Wenduag is... really good with axes and I enjoy her voice actress. I keep playing good characters so I don't get her until Act 3 and we all know how Act 4 goes. She's probably the most 'typical' character in the game for me. Woljif is a character that I might headcanon as younger compared to most! Mind, I see him as someone of age, but someone in his late teens or very early 20s because of his maturity and behavior. He's really a good portrayal of a young man who has had rough life, who has no real loyalty because it's never been shown to him, and is very aware what demons can do. Essentially he's my smol idiot and I love him.
Trevor as a concept is really neat and while his build is a nightmare, I find it eerily accurate to folks who go through war and PSTD without the help they truly need. They have so many skills and concepts inside that have gone missing due to trauma, and tapping into them without help is a challenge. On top of this, I almost feel like Owlcat is saying 'no, don't drag him through more shit than you have to' with this build. Trevor and Sosiel's relationship also mirrors Zon-Kuthon and Shelyn so well.
Finnean was really quiet in my run. :(((
Aivu is a delight, though I've heard stories that Aivu's inclusion meant that Azata got less story and more whimsy with a fairly powerful addition to the party. Regardless, when I found out that Aivu and Daeran had the same writer, I wasn't shocked. Aivu picks on Daeran the most! She really feels like a toddler which gives me the same emotinal whiplash as I get from Ember: these are my babies, why am I putting them near the soul eating demons?? I think Aivu was written so well, I wasn't sure if I should listen to a five year old girl about rushing down to do Midnight Fane, but I'm going back, taking a deep breath, and replaying before going into the Ivory Prison.
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dujour13 · 1 year
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Kiss prompt~❤️ a desperate kiss as if they are convinced they’ll slip through each other’s fingers
This is immediately after the bit I posted last week with Galfrey in Iz.
Where was he? For several moments he lay gasping, totally disoriented and in agony.
Then he felt the familiar, comforting pressure of a horn against his shoulder. He started to reach over, but that made the pain from the wound flare up. So instead he just turned his head and whispered, “Woljif?”
The tiefling had fallen asleep slumped forward on a bedside stool, face pressed into the pillow and one arm draped across Siavash as if shielding him from something.
“Woljif.”
“Huh? Chief!”
After many teary kisses, Siavash stroked the nape of his neck and asked, “Did I dream it, or did we kill Deskari?”
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“Well, Seelah and Regill were both down, but Deskari was bleedin’ bad—or whatever you call that bug juice—especially from that bolt Lann shot him with. And then you just—I don’t know, it was like a pillar of fire made of rainbows or something. Cut right through him. He started screaming somethin’ awful, and then the plaza started crumbling, and you collapsed.” His voice started to break. “We managed to drag everybody to safety but it was a close call, chief.”
He could hardly believe it. Baphomet, Mephistopheles, and now Deskari. “That’s… terrifying.”
“Don’t need to tell me that.” Woljif said in a quiet, strained voice. “You scared us there.”
Siavash gingerly lifted the bandage and peered down at the wound. It had cauterized itself when the bolt of energy blazed through it. The edges were blackened. It was deeper and more painful than ever. He didn’t dare look any closer, afraid he might see his own heart pulsing at the bottom of the crevasse in his chest. Still, sparks of Elysian magic wove through it, trying to mend it—and failing. Even the mythic power Areelu had imbued him with, that could destroy demon lords and revive the living sap of Sarkoris, could not overcome this.
He wanted to tell Woljif it was fine. It wasn’t. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, throat tightening at the look in his eyes.
In fact, Woljif’s wide-eyed look was because he had suddenly realized something, and it was like he’d discovered another side of a coin or stepped through a portal and a whole new vista spread out before him. The effect was a little bit dizzying. He’d always kind of subconsciously suspected it was there, but for some reason he never thought it was permitted for people like him.
He didn’t just want Siavash to live because he wanted him, the way he wanted a palace, that was warm and full of light and laughter and song. He wanted him to live because he wanted him to live. It sounded stupid—like, Ember-level stupid—but there it was. He wanted Siavash to be alive and happy and not to be dead. Gods, it would be so unfair, and he hated how unfair life had been to him, and oh how he hated how unfair it would be for Siavash to have to die. Not because there was anything in it for him, but because—because that’s what his heart wanted, as the chief would put it.
Trouble was, seeing things from this new direction hurt in a whole new way, a pain that felt like it was strangling him, like a crushing claw squeezing his heart into a pulp, and he sat frozen, unable to breathe.
Siavash saw that all the color had drained from his face and painfully hiked himself upright so that he could reach over and pull him—gently—into his arms. It was not so much trying to comfort him as needing to cling to him for dear life.
It would soon be over. They’d defeated Deskari, and it had nearly killed him. All that remained was the Worldwound itself, and Iomedae had warned him: there was only one way to close it.
And he had promised, all the gods damn everything, and this time he’d made up his mind to keep a promise for once in his life, and he couldn’t do it. He had promised never to hurt Woljif, who had been hurt so much already and who deserved so much better. He felt him trembling violently in his arms and had an inkling what kind of pain he was going through, because he too could now feel nothing else—even the deep, tearing pain of the wound couldn’t touch this.
All they had were a few weeks at best. All that mattered was this moment together, right now. He didn’t trust his voice, so the only way to say it was to reach up and place his hand on Woljif’s face, brushing a tear away with his thumb as he pulled him in and kissed him, and as their lips met there was a moment like Elysium that was so beautiful it was like a shiny little grain of forever, a star in the darkness, no matter what befell them next. It was the only gift he could give him.
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galagraphia · 2 years
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I finally managed to get the "secret" ending in Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous for Kila, my Angel tiefling, and it made me kind of sad. Especially for Sosiel, Trever, and Greybor. Sosiel and Trever just wanted to go home and have a peaceful life. Sosiel would marry Aron and live happily ever after. Trever would take to gardening to deal with his trauma. Instead I dragged them away from this. And with Greybor we worked so hard to make him admit that he loves and misses his family, and should at least try to be a part of their life; he was a shitty dad back then, but he could be a better one now. And instead I dragged him away from them too.
I have always been torn between Azata and Legend for Syana. Now I think that I would like a Legend ending for her better. She wouldn't want to just become an Azata and lose Lann when he grows old. She wouldn't want to become a goddess, because she just wants to be herself, and she would feel like it's all wrong and too much for her. And, after finding out how she got mythic powers, she would probably feel violated, and would want them out of her. Sure, losing Aivu and free crusaders would break her heart, but that's the fate of a mortal, and nobody can return from the war unharmed and the way they were before.
Eventually, I think, she would recover enough, and Lann would take her to the sea, and of course she'd find some crazy idealistic ship captain and convinced him to go hunt some pirates and free their prisoners. And that's what they would become - sea avengers and rescuers, and I think it would be the happy ending they truly deserve.
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thewollfgang · 4 months
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G'day, BG Anon returns! I was going to update you yesterday on my progress but, as you know, the patch came out and I was like WHOOOOAAA LEMME SEE (commence the grabby hands) and time went brr so here I am today. Incredible of Larian to keep us fed like this. Ain't no one doing it better than them. 💅
Truthfully, I haven't really progressed much. I've been perusing Astarion fanart a lot recently and it made me want to try my own hand at drawing his ✨magnificence✨. Granted, I am not the best at drawing people, much less faces, so it's been a process but I won't falter. I've been going back and forth between practicing digitally and traditionally, and have even toyed with the idea of doing a painting once I manage to get him just right. I'd like to think I'm getting there. (Bit ironic that Astarion is keeping me from playing. XD)
Anyway, I had a bit of a poke around Moonrise finally. Lann the merchant kinda pissed me off, I can't wait to kill him, honestly. Good inventory though. Well, until I sold him all the junk I could find. Good luck getting anymore customers. MUAHAHAHAHA! >:)
I have never wanted to pimp slap a bunch of pixels more than when I talked to Araj. How dare she treat bae like this?! My Tav, cradling Astarion: "Don't talk to me or my fiancé ever again. 😤" If it didn't put the whole tower on alert, I would have killed her... well, technically, I did before I had to reload. What I wouldn't do for an Assassin's Creed stealth kill and the standard random wagon/pile of hay to hide the body in. I did rob her blind though. Little victories and all.
yaaaaas the new patch GIVETH!!! BG3 just keeps getting better. God bless Larian. I've watched a few of the epilogues but I'm trying to be good and wait till i get there.
ALSO GOOD GOD BG IF YOU DONT SHOW ME YOUR ART I WILL BE SO SAD
like for real, even if you don't feel comfy coming off anon (which is totally fine) i will literally turn on my submissions or whatever settings need to be changed for me to see it. Or send me a link or SOMETHING i wanna seeeeeeeeee. Also i feel your pain about drawing faces. I did nothing but draw faces for five years to get better at them (and i can draw them well on paper! less so digitally and paints are right out lol)
Ugh Araj is the WORSt. I also robbed her lmaooooo i had Astarion do it like, you deserve a treat baby, go take her stuff. XD
I actually managed to play for an hour or so a few days ago and progress a little further into Act 3. I found Orin and I know she has a few doppelganger options (one of them being the nymph(?) that tests you and your romanced companion's love). So I'm LITERALLY hunting for the other Orin options, because once you see her a few times, the other options become normal NPCs and I cannot bear to reveal Astarion's vulnerability to someone who is secretly Orin in disguise. (I am TOTALLY normal about this).
I haven't decided how honest I'm going to be for the love test cause on one hand, my character wants him to know he sees Astarion and understands, but on the other… :/ well. Perhaps I will just apology smooch him after. That will make it all better!
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yunessa · 9 months
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Chapter 6: And Wendaug Said to Yunessa
Notes:
There is gore and some mature stuff. If corpses and all that bother you then be warned it's in the chapter. :)
I do not remember having friends before Kenabres. I got along with the mentor who taught me how to be a proper bard. But I also knew that when I parted from Art then my mentor would also assume I would no longer need him and continue on with his life. We didn’t dislike each other, but we had little in common once I’d become my own person and he let me stay with him until I was ready to go on my own. Perhaps calling Lann a friend was a mistake. Once I said that, things changed. I didn’t help him any more because there were lost kids. It was because I didn’t want to see his expression look so lost. If I hadn’t revealed Lariel’s sword he would have been stuck in Netherhholm. He would have done what he could have done for his tribe. Tried his best, maybe he would have become chief after and lead the Mongrels into a better era. Maybe he would have surpassed Wendaug in skill, moving farther and farther into the tunnels in search of supplies for the tribe. He loved his tribe too much to abandon them and that was the noose around his neck. He would let that noose slowly tighten as his hopes and dreams died, never being truly free and always told his place was in that cavern.  He deserved to be believed by someone, to have the freedom he wanted to have without what he loved strangling him slowly.  Once I called him friend I knew my plan to leave Kenabres was a stretch, if it was still possible at all. Sometimes all we need to live a better life is a single hand reaching out to us to lift us above the life we would have had otherwise. My mentor did it for me after all, with no expectations of some grand repayment.   So I chose to offer my hand out to Lann. Freedom. Choice. A life where what he loved didn’t try to condemn him to die slowly. Is it too arrogant to think I saved him from that? Perhaps. But, unlike Wendaug, I always gave him a choice and never once denied him his freedom or answers, if I had them. I couldn’t give a hand to everyone. But even one person can make a difference. Granted, having godly powers and an angel’s sword gets me farther. -Yunessa
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Perhaps the biggest surprise of the Shield Maze was that it wasn’t really a maze that had been expected after all. The earthquakes and damage above had left the entry into the maze ajar and the group were easily able to slip inside. It had been impossible to hide their shock when they arrived in a well-lit entry room with artfully tiled floors and bas-reliefs of Baphomet, the Demon Lord of Minotaurs, The Lord of the Labyrinth.
The room that they explored after that had once been a chapel before the ceiling had collapsed halfway into the room. Lit my magicked chandeliers that cast flicking light upon the group as they surveyed the chapel. The smell of rot had begun to permeate the air along with a strong smell reminiscent of curdled iron if iron could curdle. Water trickled down some of the cracks in the walls from where it had welled out.
“This reminds me of the barracks aboveground.” Camellia’s nose hadn’t wrinkled at the smell of blood, rather she was looking intently around them now. “The ones they have for the soldiers. But with nicer carpets.”
“This… changes things.” Yunessa admitted. “They have a base beneath Kenabres.”
“There have been things happening in the city that seemed normal, people leaving, rumours of folks barely escaping the sewer dinosaurs- nothing that seemed unusual from a city.” Seelah kept her shield raised as she looked around the room. “Seeing this though- gotta wonder how much of that wasn't people just leaving.”
“We thought this was just a dirt and stone maze.” Lann moved near silently, his eyes moving over the chamber. “Wendaug said-”
“I’m starting to think she wasn’t accurate with the information she gave your tribe.” Yunessa interrupted. “This changes things- we’ll be fighting people most likely so we need to adjust.  Kill them quickly and silently, don’t let them get a chance to yell.” The words flew from Yunessa’s mouth though how that seemed a good plan, Yunessa couldn’t say. “Stick to the shadows as we go, as much as you can.”
Lann noddied at Yunessa and they moved through a doorway, down the hall. The carpets were so soft Yunessa could feel their feet sinking into it. How could cultists afford the luxury of a stuffed carpet? The quality of the stonework in the walls and details to the reliefs carved in the stone suggested  how confident they were, how safe they felt here.  Even now, everything showed signs of recent use or habitation.
It suggested to Yunessa that the cultists had been at home beneath the city for a considerable amount of time. Decades most likely. It was too comfortable to be recent.  But the lack of cultists was concerning in itself. Was Deskari’s invasion too soon for them to hide beneath the surface or something else?
They checked the first room they found, finding a small library. The damage suffered by the Maze was no less evident here in the form of water trickling down the walls and dripping from the ceiling. A cultist in the room, attempting to save the library books from water damage, was swiftly killed by one of Lann’s arrows, staggering down to fall against the bookcase, clutching at the arrow that lodged in their neck.
It was hard not to be impressed at the library, small as it was. The books were all neatly organised and every book was titled.  Demon worship, ritual, books clearly made by the cultists.  Even the light reading material one might expect to find in Mendev held a place in the library. From frontline reports to inn reviews. 
They had made themselves quite at home it seemed. Even leaving a messageboard of sorts on the end of a library book case. Several papers were tacked or stuck on it. Various written articles, lost items, but more importantly, letters. Yunessa gently pulled free the fanciest looking paper, written in an angry scrawl in large letters as if the author was aware of the targeted reader’s intellect.
“Follow these simple rules.” Yunessa read aloud. “Or you will die.”  They read over the note. “Don’t bother the boss. One of them has a key to the shrine but their boss doesn’t care who holds onto it. Nobody’s supposed to set foot in the ritual chamber. “
“There’s an unfinished section to the maze?” Seelah read over Yunessa’s shoulder. “What’s in there?”
“Vermin- but since this is underground it’s very likely nothing able to get into the finished maze. There’s a raging water elemental locked away in the basement kitchens their boss wants banished on the morrow. There’s a sword they’re trying to hide, a paladin sword.”
“Hosilla.” Seelah read as Yunessa folded the note to tuck it away in their pockets. “I don’t know that name.” But she was already turning to move out of the room. 
“Plenty of time to find out. Let’s keep on and keep an eye out for that paladin sword as well- whatever it is is probably worth taking from their cold hands if they haven’t destroyed it.”
The further they moved down the hall and deeper into the complex the more disarray had begun to show. The water elemental had caused considerable damage after it had gotten sucked into the aqueducts from the river and into the cultist’s Maze.  The drowned bodies of the cultists were testament to the elemental’s fury at being taken from its home. They had locked it away in the basement- at considerable cost to themselves. 
Where the aqueducts had broken with the wells, the rooms were in complete waterlogged disarray. Signs of bloodier fighting became evident the deeper they went into the kitchens. 
The kitchen still showed signs of recent cooking, smelling of burnt fat and garlic. Greasy foods soggy and cold. Knocked over bottles of wine and herbs for tea, everything still wet from when the elemental raged and combat ensued. The cellar leading down had been closed tightly, an upturned table and anything that could be tossed onto weight the cellar door down to aid the  old lock had been put there. Water leaked steadily from between the boards. 
“Do you think the elemental is down there?”
“Probably. I say we leave it alone.” Seelah said. 
“I agree. I’ve no spells that would hurt it.” The victor of the battle against the elemental had left the room after, not bothering to take time to clean. They shed their soaked cloak as they had left, leaving it upon the floor.
They followed the signs of a struggle, taking them out of the kitchen, away from the elemental and into the hall. Coloured tile began to appear on the floors where the cultists had enough time to work, the bas-reliefs and other decor improving visually the further they went down the hallway. 
Warm light from magicked candles spilled light into the hallway and  illuminated the signs of a far more savage encounter. A fallen wand, torn shreds clothing and a smeared crimson where hands had tried desperately to claw their way into the hallway/
“A row of outdated bright colors. It hurts my eyes.”  Camellia whispered. “It’s so tacky to look at. They deserved to die for this, if nothing else..”
“We’re not here for cultist fashions Camilla. Are there any traps you can find?”
“No-” Camellia began.
“Body.” Lann interrupted, voice soft as he pointed into the room. The stench of offal and bile hit Yunessa as if it were a solid wave and they shuddered. A wet sucking sound came from within the room followed by a loud retching. Lann held up two fingers. Yunessa gestured for Seelah and they moved after Seelah entered the doorway. 
Lann fired off an arrow as Seelah charged. The arrow struck flesh, making one of the three stagger. Creature was the only word for the monsters with their feral gazes and hands caked in viscera and red.
Camellia called out for blood for her spirits, her rapier offering a wink of silver. The sharp pitch of her voice drew the creature’s eyes for a second. But it was all Seelah needed for her mace to hit flesh.
The world shifted,narrowing into a pattern of sound as Yunessa began to sing, feeling it start to drain their magic as Yunessa began to focus.  Seelah kicked the creature she had hit and Camellia’s rapier finished it off in time for one of the remaining one to slam itself against Seelah’s shield.
Yunessa focused on the creature’s head as it tried reaching for Seelah around her shield, uttering a sharp note. The spell failed to make its head explode but it did make the creature shriek in agony as its eardrums burst. 
Seelah shoved it back as it clawed at its ears before another one of Lann’s arrows and Camellia’s rapier finished it off far more quietly.
“He was eaten.” Camlilla whispered to the rest of them. “You can see it there.” She pointed at a drying grey lump of offal. Revulsion made Yunessa turn their gaze away from the corpse. The desire to vomit hit when the smell registered and Yunessa carefully stepped over the corpse, refusing to look at it or the creature that had died atop of the cultist. “ They tried to eat the face.” Camellia continued. “They reached into the throat-” Nausea hit Yunessa in a fetid wave when they reached down  and Yunessa ‘s foot slipped. 
Lann grabbed at their arm, helping to right Yunessa out of the cloud of stench. The cultist’s remaining eye stared upwards at the ceiling, their robes shredded, their insides turned out.
“It’s only a corpse. He’s dead.” Camellia said disdainfully. 
“Hovlann.” Lann said. There was sorrow found in his one good eye. “His name was Hovlann.”
“The monster or the cultist?” Camellia’s eyes narrowed.
“He wasn’t a monster when I saw him last. Far less… scales and he only had one row of teeth.” Lann shrugged  but his clawed hand tightened around Yunessa’s forearm. 
“You didn’t mention anyone besides the kids had gone missing.” Seelah had lowered her shield, keeping her back to them all as she watched the rest of the room, eyes alert. 
“Well he isn’t from our tribe, but we’re both hunters so we would cross paths from time to time in the cave passages. We would swap news with each other, trade supplies sometimes when we had enough to spare. He disappeared a while back but I thought - well, I thought he died and nobody passed the message on.” Lann’s clawed fingers tightened, expressing the emotions he wasn’t speaking aloud.  
“Did he ever say anything about the Maze?” Yunessa prodded gently.
“We talked about it. Mosty wanting to try our luck and see if we could make it to the surface but that was a long time ago.” Lann’s clawed hand tightened with surprising strength as he looked Hovlan over. 
Yunessa patted his hand gently.Lan blinked in surprise before his hand loosened and pulled away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep holding onto you.”
Yunessa offered a smile. “You’re fine. Do you need a moment?” Lann turned away, looking back to Hovlan.
“No.” He said shortly before he used his boot to life Hovlan’s corpse. As he did so his boot pressed against Hovlan’s chest and pushed the remaining air from the corpse’s lungs. It let out its final dry breath and as much as Yuness had been expecting something, the corpse’s final hoarse wheeze made their fingers tighten around their crossbow as they cursed.
Lann didn’t comment on Yunessa’s cursing, absorbed in studying the body. “Look at  this. Something was wrong with him before we found him.” He gestured. “It looked like something was eating him from the inside out…” He looked at the other corpses. “None  of them look right. Maybe they ate some of the cordy mushrooms but that wouldn't be all of it… something drove them out of their minds.”
“Or someone. If they were sane I doubt they’d have tolerated all of those wounds. It looks like they were tortured.” Yunessa looked around the  room. Warmly lit candles accompanied the tile that edges the room. Seats and tables with cus, books,  hobby knives- if it was anyplace else it would look comfortable. “Seems like the Shield Maze was built by cultists after the first crusaders left- or were murdered. How did any of them go unnoticed?”
“I don’t know. This is my first time here- I always chickened out when I stood at the tunnel that lead here. Maybe they fell down here the same way you did?” Lann shrugged awkwardly. “I’d ask Wendaug if she was here- she comes here all the time.”
“Wendaug said she had gone far enough in this place to feel a breeze from above ground. She didn’t describe more than that but if she has been that far…” Yunessa trailed off.
“There’s not a lot of places that could handle cultist traffic like this. It’d be somewhere public or the prelate would have already come down here himself.” Seelah finished grimly. “The tower of Estrod, the library- a smuggler’s spot somewhere.”
“It speaks of considerable time to plan this- and to execute it. Even a small house would be impressive but this speaks of decades of planning.”
“And here I was hoping we’d be the meanest things in here.” Lann smiled, his lips parting to chuckle but it sounded strained. “The shield maze is a lie. There’s cultists and these mongrels… I didn’t expect any of this. It makes me think we might not find the kids.” 
“It looks dark now, Lann. But we’ll keep on until we find the kids.” Yunessa promised, looking at the key they’d plucked from the cultist’s chest cavity.
Even if we only find their bodies, remained unsaid.
 No matter how quickly they moved, a maze was still a maze. No knowledge of where to go meant they were forced to explore. Yunessa caught Lann marking the  walls as they went but offered no comment. The initial horror of the deranged mongrels had not diminished as the group searched, finding more of them.
Wailing, hissing, or staring hungrily, none of them responded to Lann and each one had to be killed. The Mongrels lingered in the spaces the cultists used frequently.
The cultists had left. Either before or after the invasion above. But beyond where they had fought the water elemental everything was arranged casually. They had been there for some time if the decorations and casual air meant anything. Seeing signs of demon worship and evil in plain sight, living so easily made Yunessa’s blood turn cold.
They didn’t stop as they moved from room to room. At some point they had stopped building a maze and it became easier to navigate the rooms. It was evident they never expected the shield maze to be found or if it was, long after they were done with it. Gradually they began to explore more luxurious rooms.
The entertainment room was by far the most luxurious room to be found by far. Stuffed carpets gave way to the dais in the centre surrounded by lounge chairs and tables that were laden with luxuries.  Portraits decorated the room with their frames,painted unusually bright colors of yellow blue, and green. Even though the portrait frames held the same colors, the portraits themselves were far from pleasant. Only the cloth banners with Baphomet’s symbol broke up the macabre paintings in the frames. 
 The dais in the far off corner was surrounded by studded fainting couches and seats.  Chains attached to the floor revealed the purpose of the dais while the dirty steel items against the wall showed the kind of entertainment that had occurred.  An elegant instrument lay  against the stairs, the white wood polished to a mirror shine with stars and serpents running along the strings.
“I wondered why the Elmstree Inn’s Bard left abruptly.” There was nothing more to be said for the Bard but Yunessa saw Seelah’s jaw tighten as she looked over the instrument a final time before turning her head away. “He had paid in advance to stay until the next boat out arrived.”
“If we find him we’ll save him.” Yunessa promised Seelah. She didn’t respond but kept on moving with the group.
I’m starting to make a lot of promises to this lot. I promised I’d bring Seelah, Anevia, and Camellia to the surface. Help Lann find his tribe’s lost kids and bring them through this maze to the surface.  
Yunessa studied Lann as he turned a corner, bow held up as his eyes searched the room. His scales caught the light for only a second before he moved ahead. They’ll probably get crammed into a jail cell if the Prelate is alive or any of his ilk. Maybe the Angel sword can help. Those sorts always like whatever confirms their beliefs.  
How am I supposed to run to freedom and a comfortable life if I have to help them out? Not that they were bad sorts- Cameilla still gave off the impression she was staring holes at Yunessa when they weren’t looking- but Yunessa wouldn’t - couldn’t let themselves be tied down to the worldwound business. It bothered them considerably. 
If I’m nimble and quick then this business will only take a bit. Get everyone through the maze. Find some space for the Mongrels, make sure the Prelate won’t burn them all. Slip out before the army from Mendev’s Capital arrives- presumably.  Still a good plan if we keep up at this pace.
The sleeping areas had cultists lingering, not many in number but some still wore their war gear. The cultists were surprised, putting up a fight before they would die.  The signs of the cultists prepared to leave were far more evident here with folded clothes on beds, their gear taken with them.
Yunessa watched Seelah check the cultist’s bodies, ensuring they were dead with  her mace. The crack of bone as she did so drew Camellia’s eyes. Yunessa had picked up a book, refusing to look at what Lann was doing. 
“One of them had a diary. It’s brand new, not bad. Not bad.” Yunessa’s fingers traced over the soft parchment of the book they’d taken from the still-cooling body of the cultist that snuck behind them during the fight. “This is going to hurt.” Lann spoke up behind Yunessa. “Are you holding her Seelah? Okay, in… three, two, one!” “Don’t warn me in advance- Whoresson!”  The dull throbbing of the wound had died down some when Yunessa stilled but Lann had turned the wound into something so painful Yuessa could see white specks in their vision. Clutching the book gave Yunessa’s hand something to hold onto but Seelah’s firm hold on Yunessa made movement out of the question. 
“You’re doing good Boss.” Seelah said encouragingly. “Lann was able to pull the pointy part of the arrow and the stick part out.”
“Oh, so lucky am I.” Yunessa muttered as Lann tossed the arrow aside. 
“Yeah, no arteries were hit and it wasn’t stuck in bone. We’d be in trouble otherwise.” Lann took the bandage rolls offered by Seelah. Yunessa could feel the sting as the wound was cleaned out.
“Tell us what the book says- it’s a diary right? Let's see what they do down here.” Seelah gave Lann her healing potion. 
The pain eased as Lann poured the healing potion over the wound. “It only has one entry on the first page.” Yunessa cleared their throat. “Life is shit!” They read dramatically adding a touch of whine to their voice. As my brethren are having a great time on the surface- what brothers would leave me down here? I’m stuck with Hosilla the Nightmare and the mongrel scrum. Pipes have sprung leaks everywhere and now an elemental is smashing up the kitchen!”
“I’d be upset if someone threw my food into the water to.” The feeling of the salve applied to their wound was relief as Lann talked. “Almost done.
“Hosilla is letting it slaughter everyone it meets in the maze’s passageways. All I can do is hide under beds, ‘round the corners, and in cupboards. Some of the others were talking about putting it in the cellar but I don’t want to die!  This isn’t how I pictured it, serving Baphomet… this isn’t how I pictured it at all.”
“Sounds like the average cultist.” Lenn glanced over the book as Yunessa shoved it in their bag. “Are you alright?” 
“Won’t be able to aim as well with the crossbow but I’ve got magic.” He’d wrapped the bandage tightly but the wound still ached with every breath. “I’ll be fine as soon as we get out of this maze.” If only it healed like the chest wound did then I’d be right as as rain. 
“If I had any healing spells left I’d use them.” Seelah’s tone was apologetic but Yunessa shook their head.
“It’s just an arrow. If it gets worse we’ll handle it- at some point we’ll need a healer- but that’s later down the road so I wouldn’t worry for now.”
They found the bodies of cultists working on expanding the maze. Either unaware or uncaring, the cultists paid the price for ignoring the dangers of the earth tremors. Their bodies were damaged beyond recognition.
One of their swords was a good replacement for Camellia’s rapier, broken when she attempted to destroy the elemental’s core. Unhappy though she was they continued on and Camellia sweetly disarmed every trap they came across with a saccharine smile Yunessa’s way.
“I thought these were just stories.” Yunessa admitted to the group. In front of them was a fountain of actual blood. The crimson liquid flowed sluggishly, slowly drying as the magic that preserved it was damaged.The tea candles that had once floated in the blood now were stuck as the blood clotted. 
Half the room had collapsed in on itself but the magicked candles in this room were dying as the spells that powered them had been damaged beyond repair- the cracks running through the walls interrupted the magic etchings in the stone and damaged power sources where there were any.
The fountain choked like a wet cough, more drying blood continued to be forced through pipes.  It had taken them far less time than they had figured- By Lann’s best guess- to get here and wander through what seemed to be most of the maze. The few cultists that remained now were all geared up but none of the cultists had done more than wound one of them. It was weary work but it was hard to deny the satisfaction of seeing a dead cultist.
We’re a good group. If we were off to be do-gooders I think we’d be able to go up against much. A flicker of pride came and left with that thought.
“When we get to the next inn Yunessa, I’m going to want songs to go with that drink I promised you.”
“If you make that more than one drink Seelah, I’ll sing for you like a bird.” Yunessa promised and Seelah smiled.
The symbol of Baphomet caught Yunessa’s eye as they filed out of the room. Painted next to a bronze wall relief of  the demon, it looked as if it had been re-applied many times over- during years maybe?- to the point some of the layers were flaking away, ruddy flakes falling to the ground.
It’d need about two inn sied casks to fill the fountain. If magic doesn't prevent it then you’d need to top it off. Yunessa’s mind worked through the math, finding some enjoyment in ignoring the grimness of it all by applying arithmetic. The answer they found  felt like a bucket of cold water spreading over their body. Even the wound in their shoulder was dulled, albeit briefly.
How long have they been feeding off the city above without them realizing it? Inquisitors burning people alive, paladins, and the most dedicated priests haven’t found them. They’ve spent years, possibly decades building this maze, and remain unfound. That leaves more questions than answers. Who is supporting them, how long has this been ongoing…to many to ponder or this will drive me mad.
All the more reason to leave once the security of the mongrels was assured. This had all the makings of a conspiracy with demons and angels. And Yunessa would have no part in that- or so they promised themself as the group continued.
“Far worse than we could have ever considered.” Camellia remarked. Her tone was still light as she looked into the pit of mutilated corpses. Glistening meat, bones, and scraps of  cloth were visible below but none of it seemed to phase her. ”Who knew they had such a good hiding place down here?” The state of the corpses, even with the light cast from her torch, was easy to see-it was a pit for the remains. They couldn’t even bury or burn them.  “If only I’d found it first…” She turned to look at Yunessa, offering a coy smile in response to Yunessa’s expression. “It’d be perfect for a wine cellar.” She explained. “The temperature is perfect.” Yuness gave the pit of meat a dubious look. The horrors they had seen the longer the mae had been explored, the more numb they felt. But they knew this image would be there in their dreams the longer they stared. 
Lann had searched the pit with his eyes and moved on to look at the holding cell. He leaned against the iron bars studying the cage. His face was set in a grim expression as the orb of light Yunessa summoned danced lazily above him, casting shadows over the meat pile he studied. 
Yunessa moved around the pit with care, keeping an eye on it for movement. Camellia had already volunteered but Yunessa had already seen flayed corpses rise up once. “Seelah, did you find the barrel of oil you were searching for?”
“I thought it was full.” The cheer had left Seelah and now she was grimly checking barrels for oil. “They must have used it already.” The barrel was tossed aside with surprising strength. She didn’t need to say how she felt, it was written all over her face. “They might not have any.”
Illuminated by flickering torchlight, more portraits with their gaudily coloured frames decorated with jewels, the faces sneering down at the intruders. Another sign of the excess the cultists felt comfortable with. The rest of the corner held a stash of it, waiting to be packed away.
Seelah exhaled slowly. She had pushed aside all the barrels that had been set in the corner and Yunessa could only guess at what she was thinking. Fortunately it didn’t seem too hard.
“If we can’t find any oil right now then I’ll come back with you after this Seelah and we’ll burn them all, promise.” Yunessa said, gesturing to the meat pit.
Surprise showed in Seelah’s eyes. “And here I thought you’d be bouncing town!” Some of the light returned to her eyes. “You’re full of surprises.” 
“Do I look like I’m trying to leave that badly?”
“You look like the sort who doesn’t like to be tied down. I figured you’d have slipped off when nobody was looking once we’d gotten above ground.” She said it nonchalantly.
“You’re not bothered by that?”
“No! We’re not all crusaders here and we can’t expect everyone to be. I’d rather you stay,” Her eyes moved to Yunessa’s hand. “You’d be a great inspiration for us and since you’re a bard you’re already good with crowds. But, I wasn’t going to force you to choose.”
“I… I see. Thank you Seelah, I appreciate that.” Yunessa turned their hand over to look at their empty palm. “I just have a few problems of my own that wouldn’t make me a fit recruit.”
“We all have problems. I think you’d still be a good fit.”
“It’s not one of those kinds of problems.” Yunessa reached up to the portraits. “Does canvas burn? We can throw in the barrels and try with whatever fuel is left.”
“What kind of problem is it then? And no, canvas doesn’t burn that easy.” 
“It’s more of an ah, magical condition- oh.” Yunessa’s finger pressed in on the largest jewel and was rewarded when it sank until their touch. A dim glow suffused the other jewels in the portrait’s frame. “Seelah, do you see that?”
“Yeah, it glows. She reached up to the blue painting, imitating Yunessa and pressing the largest gem on the frame as Yunessa pressed their ear against the wall, rewarded with the sound of things shifting behind the stone. 
“There’s noise Seelah, try another one.” “Try the green one.” Lann had come up behind them both silently.  “Do you think this is the way out?” “Possibly. If not there then it’s something they want to hide very badly- press green.”
The door reset itself with a whining ache of mechanisms after they tried the fourth portrait. The second time yielded the same result. It was the third time that yielded results when Yunessa, growing impatient with the whole mine, had acted on impulse and pressed the yellow gem in the portrait again.
With a protesting grind wheels turned and the mechanism reluctantly came to life. The  door was pulled open. The spirit of the party was raised as they entered the room, only to find it dark and containing what looked like the personal collections of one of the cultists. 
A scattering of important looking goods, an impressive collection of parchments and books lit by magic with a comfortable fainting couch there. Seelah let out a cry of surprise before moving to the alcove. The silver face of Baphomet stared down at Seelah from atop the altar within it within as she bolted up the stairs, snatching a rusted sword from the altar, moving away to look at it in the light.
“There’s plenty of weapons that aren’t rusty in the hands of the cultists we killed.” Camellia’s nose had wrinkled at the sight of the sword Seelah carried. 
Seelah’s eyes had lit up as she inspected the rusted sword. “No, I got a feeling about this.” She studied the hilt, fingers tracing the metal. “This looks like Radiances hilt! Yaniel’s sword is supposed to be in the tower of Estrod! With the other important crusade relics… that’s what I heard.”
“Well, of course this rusted piece of metal must be the same sword!” Camellia rolled her eyes at Seelah’s words. “I think you just merely wish this was an illustrious sword of legend.”
“You don’t get it. I’ve seen this sword a hundred times in paintings and in Yaniel’s statues.” Seelah turned it over in her hands and Yuness moved close to look at it.
It looked like any sword that hadn’t been taken care of with the damage time had done to it. The metal was tarnished, rusty in large splotches, and as dull as a rock. Something about it held the faint smell of burnt sugar underneath all the rust however, faint though it was.
“Divine stuff smells like burnt sugar to me. There’s something about it? Maybe?” Yunessa shrugged. “What’s special about this sword if it is Yaniel’s?”
“Well now… nothing.” Seelah had frowned at the sword. “But this was legendary back in its day! People said that when Yaniel held it, the blade would glow as it struck demons left and right. Soldiers would see Radiance’s light from afar and be embolden, rushing into the thick of battle and wind.” Reverently her armoured hand caressed the blade. “Does magic smell to you?”
“Divine magic smells like burnt sugar. Lariel’s sword does when I’ve summoned it- it’s only happened since I got his sword so…” Yunessa shrugged, trying to awkwardly explain that they even were uncertain it was a legendary sword.
“You get it then! I don’t know what’s wrong with it to have lost this much power or how to restore it. All I can sense is that they made a mockery of this blade.” She began to make room on her belt, adjusting to put the sword there. 
“You’re empathising with a rusty sword? Extraordinary. Are all paladins so sensitive?”  Camellia seared at Seelah. 
“In a way, yes. Just like they sense it as a smell, paladins have their own version.” Seelah gestured to Yunessa. “Paladins are highly attuned to sensing evil and everything wrought by demons. Radiance was in evil hands and they did nothing good with it.”
“See if there’s anything else here before we go.” Yunessa told Camellia and that was the end of that conversation. A quick toss-up of the room later left them with little more in their hands but Seelah’s mood has lifted considerably. 
“Who’s Yaniel, Seelah?” 
“How do you not know who Yaniel is? You’re a bard and she’s famous all over Golarion!” Seelah had her mace out again as they walked. The sword had been taken out once more to wrap in cloth respectfully before being put at her belt again.
“Memory loss some uh, ten years and change back. I know some things but other stuff escapes me entirely. I’ve been slowly relearning everything as I go.” Yunessa admitted. “It’s not like I can get the memories back so there’s a lot of missing knowledge I just don’t have.”
“We had someone in our tribe who lost their memories. I can ask them after we’re done with this.” Lann’s voice sounded behind Yunessa. “I used to go fishing with their Uncle before he decided to move to a different part of the caves.” “Can’t hurt to ask. I appreciate you Lann.” Yunessa said though they didn’t care that much at all about it. The memories were lost, moulding parchment scraps that crumbled away the moment Yunessa tried. Countless years of life, gone, taken by a curse that was also equally as shrouded in darkness. The frustration of it all and the curiosity would have driven Yunessa mad until they just… stopped caring. The past stopped mattering as the need to continue living freely grew. 
“Well Yaniel is famous all over Golarion. She was a great woman. She was born in Mendev, and when the great crusade started she refused to sit idly by. She dedicated her life to the crusade. People say that she was audacious and spirited. Always the first into battle and never sacrificing  anyone’s lives for a tactical advantage.”
Camellia ignored it all, continuing ahead of them as she searched for traps.  Lann continued on alongside Yunessa. I wish these wounds would stop aching, My shoulder feels like it's burning. Pretending to be a leader was painfully exhausting. 
Save the kids, make sure the mongrels won’t be killed surface-side, maybe help Seelah after a good rest.
“That’s how she’s been remembered: As an incredible warrior who blazes with righteous fury in all her images. She looks capable of driving all the demons back into the abyss single-handedly! But something happened between her and her commanders. Maybe they envied her, maybe they had a grudge- nobody knows. She went into the Worldwound without her fellow soldiers and she survived! She even brought back other crusaders that she rescued in there.”
“It’s difficult to imagine going into the World Wound by myself, let alone rescuing people there alone.” 
Seelah nodded. “She died the same way she lived- proudly and unafraid. Yaniel was covering refugees escaping from Drezen when it fell. She wasn’t even forty- tht’s pretty young for a half-elf.”
“We’re considered adults by twenty but if you’re not a hundred you’re still ‘ young’. “ Another vague recollection that seemed true enough to say aloud.
“Really? I suppose it makes sense with elves living so long. But Yaniel could till be alive today… the crusades are less than a hundred years old after all. It probably doesn’t seem that long to an elf. Not even a full century has passed since the Worldwound first tainted the world and started killing off the good heroes who opposed it.”
“For elves a century isn’t much. It’s something but it’s not long in the same sense. I’ve seen a lot of disdain towards half-elves from both sides of their parentage as I’ve traveled. Are you a fan of Yaniel then?
Seelah chuckled. “I guess you can say that. I’ve always felt an affinity with her. I know what it feels like to not be what your commanders want you to be. Whenever I used to feel under pressure, I always thought of her: maybe some people didn’t like her for what she was or how she acted but to the people she saved she was perfect. Ad to the people she saved on the battlefield and from the Would Wound, she was incredible. So for those of us who keep her memory alive, she’s a hero. That’s what counts.”
“Does the cultist’s basement hideout lead to the tower of Estrod, you said it was? If this is Yaniel’s sword, her genuine real sword, then losing it would be unacceptable. Unless they stol it from her corpse?” Yunessa was finding the promise of finally leaving to be freeing, some of the anxiety disappeared and the wound pained them less.
“We don’t have Yaniel’s corpse. She disappeared but we were able to recover Radiance from the battlefield. Nobody else has ever wielded it because it’s her sword and always would be. It’s why they put it in the Tower of Estrod with the other crusade relics. “  As Seelah talked Lann kept marking the walls subtly, catching Yunessa watching him, he offered a smile. 
“So they somehow stole an important crusade relic and did whatever made the blade rust or lose power for the fun of it.” Yunessa guessed. They’d moved to cleaner halls now and the air was thick with incense but Yunessa took deep breaths wishing to forget the smell of corpse meat.
“Yeah.”  Seelah agreed and then laughed, reminding Yunessa of a warm fire as she did. “This kinda feels like we’ve rescued a fellow warrior from a dungeon. We can’t just abandon them, even if they can’t fight or be of use. The sword is useless to the cultists, but if it could be repaired…” Her voice was filled with reverence as she touched the rusted weapon at her belt.. 
“If I can help with it, Seelah, then I will.” Somewhere Yunessa felt as if fate was watching. It made them want to lower their head and hide. But where’s the point in that now, in this maze?
The summoning circle was as bad as the rest of the maze. Profane symbols scorched into the earth by boiled blood were surrounded by the bodies that the blood had been stolen from. Yunessa had never witnessed a demon summoning circle before and seeing the results of it lit by still burning candles, wished they hadn’t.
“This looks like it was successful.” 
“It does.” Camellia agreed. “You can tell by the blood.”
“The candles are still fresh. We made good time.” Seelah’s eyes moved over the circle, rubbing out one of the symbols with her foot. “But we should hurry, we’ve explored everywhere else in this Shield Maze.”
Beyond the summoning circle was a locked doorway. None of their keys opened it and the torches they had were limited to the remaining one Camellia carried. Yunessa had repeatedly summoned their conjured orb of light to let them see easier.  
The candles cast their baleful light over the gaze of a corpse whose face was twisted. Yunessa forced their eyes away. “Lann, besides the basement you said you spotted stairs in the door’s viewing window?”  I did not see a young one. I didn't see a young one…  It was a lie but Yunessa was running on whatever they had with barely any rest. 
“I did. Do we wanna check there or try to break the door down?”
“Us? Break the door down? Lann, we’re good abiding folks.” Yunessa pulled out the handful of keys they had pocketed along the way. “Why would we ever break the door when we could open it?”
They had found three keys in total but it was the nicest looking key among the lot that opened the door.  As the door swung open the party was greeted with the sight of stairs. Countless stairs leading up into a black oblivion. “My favourite part.” Yunessa said dryly. “Is always the stairs.”
The stairs went up roughly three floors by Yunessa’s best guess. Their legs were burning by the time they reached the top. But the wind that blew through the cellar gave them all strength. It smelled of the surface world, reminding them of what was waiting. 
There was no door this time. Only the sound of wails and upset cries.  Children? No sooner had the thought come to Yunessa’s mind than Lann stiffened beside them and started to move. “No.” Yunessa whispered. Lann’s arm was as solid as stone beneath their hand. “Trust me Lann.”
Lann reluctantly stuck to Yunessa’s side as they caught a glance from the balcony. Beneath the balcony stood a ritual room. Large and impressive it was the pinnacle of the cultist’s rooms to date: Not only was the floor marble but there were gold etchings and silken banners hanging from the walls. Lit with a large brass chandelier that gleamed.
A demon, taller than any mortal man Yunessa had ever seen, loomed over the gathered. One cultist watched impassively at the demon’s side. Her arms were decorated withtatoos of her beliefs, her tabard painted with similar symbols. The high and mighty Hosilla?  While huddling away from the demon and Hosilla were a group of young Mongrels. Their young games switched between the dead body of an aasimar on the floor, crimson pooling around him like a red halo.
"𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚. 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙨. 𝙃𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙨... 𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡!”  The demon;s voice was like broken metal and ground up blades. It’s four arms moved as it spoke,two raising upwards as if in prayer while the other scolded the young Mongrels. The leathery wings brushed against the stone,loud enough to drown out the nouse of the small mongrels. “ 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪! Go, EAT EAT and SATISFY YOUR HUNGER"
The demon’s back had turned from them. Yunessa gesture to Seelah and Camellia and they crept to the stairways. Lann only needed a finger to point and then Yunessa rose up, breaking into a sprint to jump off the balcony.
This is going to hurt. Was the only thought they had in mind as they fell down.  Fuck, I hope nothing breaks. The pain as they landed, even with a roll to try and help, did very little to soothe the sudden sharp spike of pain. But those are kids so what else can I do?  Yunessa walked towards the demon, hand held out at their side to summon the blade.  Lannlanded behind Yunessa, Seelah and Camellia were moving down the stairs.
But the air grew thicker with every step. It was like moving through water as the young mongrels charged at the aasimar’s corpse. On their knees they tore at flesh with their fangs, the sickening sound of flesh rending , the gurgle of fluid, and the snarl of animals as the young began to fight like animals over the corpse. 
The underwater thickness of it hit harder, turning metallic. Lann’s bow fell to the ground, Seelah stumbled and fell down the steps as she writhed in agony. Camellia clung to the stairwell, letting out a cry. Something in the blood awakened a hunger as the demon turned its magic on them all.   What is this?  Corpses didn’t smell sweet. Not even an aasimar. Untainted by corruption. Sweet meat. As soon as the thought hit Yunessa gagged. 
The demons canted its head at Yunessa, watching. The hunger mixed with rage. It was no gentle deception of a compulsion, it was boiling their blood while clouding their mind and offering the shackles it held as the answer. Trying to force us to submit. That thought alone was enough. Are you trying to bind me to your will? Sod you, Sod you, Sod you back to hell! DIe! DIe! There was still clarity in their mind through the immense pain, the sheer rage of being shackled to another’s will was anathema. Appalling. 
Something stirred in their soul. A wordless question, the gears of fate pausing to turn and shift. In that eternal moment there was choice. Succumb to anger or pick clarity. Rage and clarity, the pain was still there, but Yunessa accepted it. Embraced the pain close. Gritting their teeth, they pushed themself to their feet.
   Good or evil didn’t matter. What mattered was something more. They didn’t choose this. Yunessa called Lariel’s blade to their hand, grasping the burning hilt and feeling the rage diffuse. Warmth suffused them. Warmth and joy from the realisation that Yunessa could win. We cannot falter. We cannot stop . The light from Lariel’s sword bolstered them, brightening the room with a brillant burst of light, granting the mongrel young blissful oblivion.
Yuness looked down, expecting to see their chest stained with fresh blood. But rather than blood only light spilled from the wound, much like Lariel’s sword. Their companions stopped writhing in pain as the Light caressed them, suffusing them with the same warmth and strength.
But when it hit the demon, the creature convulsed as if having a seizure. It convulsed as if in pain, limbs seizing. “ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮?” It demanded, its amusement gone in the surprise of seeing the light Lariel’s blazing sword in Yunessa’s hands. 
“RIght now I’m tired.” Yunessa admitted. They heard the clatter of noise as their companions began to move but they kept their eyes on the demon, walking forward. Something about that seemed right as they followed their impulse. They had no idea how they’d fight this demon, the demon was immense in size and too strong to be handled easily or quickly.
Fortunately the demon chose for them. “𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧! 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭!” It demanded as hellfire flickered at its feet. It roared upwards, enveloping the demon and spiriting it away. The room was lighter for its absence.
The cultist next to the Demon started as her master disappeared. Her eyes looked around the room, calculating as her lips set into a grim line. “He’s already wounded.” She eyed Yunessa. “Wendaug, kill him first!” The glaive she picked up had a wicked edge as it gleamed in the light. 
“I’m not your slave any longer Hosilla.” Wendaug’s raspy voice came from the shadows and Yunessa caught her as she moved out of the doorway’s shadows. Wendaug’s eyes focused on Yunessa. “However, I’ll gladly kill anyone who pokes their nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
“Are you so upset that I didn't leave Lann to rot that you’d try to kill me?” Yunessa asked and Wendaug drew her bow in response. Hosilla held a devilish smile on her face as her lips parted. “Oh, mighty Savamelekh! Your faithful-hagh!” The rest of her prayer died in a choked cry of surprise as Lann’s arrow cut across her face. 
Camellia threw her dagger at Wendaug, charging in right behind it. That saved Yunessa’s life as Wendaug moved out of the dagger’s path; she was unable to match Camellia’s momentum. Camellia’s sword met Wendaug’s bow.
  Seelah charged at Hosilla as Lann fired off another arrow. Unable to wield her glaive in close combat she was quickly forced to call for help- a call Wendaug ignored. She roared her defiance, kicking Seelah's unarmored leg, causing her to stumble. But Yunessa was there, hacking at Hosillla with Lariel’s sword. It cut through Hosilla’s flesh like butter, twisting the blade as it dug into her side.
“No!” Hosilla cried out, grabbing Yunessa’s shoulder. White stars danced across Yunessa’s vision as Hossilla grabbed her shoulder. If Hosilla had any other words to say, they never came as Seelah’s mace buried itself in Hosilla’s skull. A sickening crack of bone, as red sprayed out and Hosilla’s brown eyes lost the life in them. 
In that time Camellia had delivered three wounds to Wendaug and cut away one of her spidery legs. Yunessa turned towards and Wendaug locked eyes with them, seeing the blazing sword, Wendaug stopped fighting. The spidery legs curled around her and she pressed her hand over the gash in her abdomen.
“Well?” She asked. Camellia smiled sweetly down at Wendaug, pleased no doubt by the pressure she applied with her boot to Wendaug’s wound. If it phased Wendaug, the mongrel gave no indication. “Are you going to finish me off? It’s not exactly unexpected.”
“I’m thinking about it.” Yunessa admitted. Lann had gone to the young mongrels when Hosilla had fallen and was checking them over, speaking softly to them as he checked them over. “But we’ll do that after you’ve had a chance to talk to Lann. I imagine he has some words for you.”
Wendaug sneered at Yunessa but when Yunessa pointed the blade down at her she opted to remain silent, two of her eyes watching Lann. 
“I can press harder if you want me to.” Camellia offered, her smile sweet.
“Perhaps we’ll do it the next time we torture someone.” Yunessa said dryly but if Camellia heard the sarcasm in it then it showed little.
“Next time? I’ll look forward to it then.”
As they talked Lann moved the children away from the corpse. The dull gold of the Aasimar priest’s gaze stared at them, unseeing until Seelah covered the body with her cloak. When Lann had moved them all Yunessa called his name out. He turned and spotted Wendaug on the ground, his expression twisting in fury. 
The lizard half of his face snarled, the eye narrowed. “You monster.” He hissed, seething with rage as he stalked towards her. Wendaug’s face remained impasse as he stared down at her. “What are we supposed to do with you? You’re not just a traitor- you’re an absolute monster! The young ones believed in you, and you lured them to a demon so they could eat human flesh? Why would you do that?”
“I was trying to make them strong!” Wendaug pointed a finger at Lann. “What were you doing for them? What were you doing while I looked for ways to bring some strength into the tribe? Searching for legends that wouldn’t touch our dirty hands?” Her gaze moved to Lariel’s sword. “You’re useless, Lann! Legends won’t save any of them.”
“I led by example !I trained and tried to become stronger so I could go to the surface and maybe do something with my stupidly short life! If Yunessa will have me, I might be the one to bring our whole tribe to the surface!” His voice was filled with emotion as he spoke, hands gesturing.
“To the surface.” Wendaug mocked him, speaking with his inflection. “So they can all be killed by the uplanders because they don’t look pretty enough to be there, not powerful enough to command anything.”
“We can survive up there. We’re dying down here Wendaug! Slowly. The caves don’t have enough resources to live in for long. But why- why would you want any power that would turn you into a monster? The young guys and girls trust you, and you got them turned into mindless animals ready to eat corpses at a demon’s command!”
.”I went through the same ritual!” Her legs struck out, pushing Camellia’s boot away so she could rise up. “I didn’t become an animal. I conquered my anger, the anger that had been building and building in all of us for generations! I don’t have any intention of lying down and politely accepting everything! I’ll rise above this, all of it. While you’re still stuck with your precious pride and eating rats.”
Camellia watched the two as if seeing a drama show playing out in front of them. Seelah offered no comment, standing guard by the young.  Yunessa continued to hold Lariel’s blade in their hand, reaching to feel the wound at their chest. The skin under their shirt was smooth and unmarred as if it had never been.
Wendaug watched Yunessa, smirking and Lann followed her gaze. “It’s gone… it was just there bleeding light and now…” He trailed off and gestured at Yunessa’s chest. “It’s gone. It’s got to be some kind of demonic trickery. You’ll need a cleric to look at that.” Wendaug’s gaze turned scornful as she turned her eyes to Lann, all six of them. “If she’s been marked by the Abyss, do you think some nobody priests can help? No, demons branded this uplander and judging from the smell of her blood they’ll be able to find her wherever she goes. And they’ll find you too, Lann.” She gave Lann an indolent, floating smile. Spidery fangs glinted behind her lips, menacing in the gloomy light.
“If your master thinks he can find me then by all means the demon is free to try. How long have you been doing this?” Lann watched as Yunessa let go of the blade and it faded away, gentle warmth fading to let the gloom of the room creep in its place.
“Better to serve a strong Master than to eke out an existence in this dark hole with no hope for better. I am of the ‘Neathers, our lives are short but we are hardier than humans are.” Pride seeped into her voice as she smoothed down her worn clothing. “I realized long ago that I was capable of more than this life offered and only the strong can change that. So I followed the strongest.”
“I thought you were better than that. You’re willing to crawl on your belly for anyone who’s even a little bit stronger than you? I thought you were proud of your heritage! You’re not a Mongrel. You’re a cave slug- you don’t understand what family or tribe is.” Lann sounded disgusted, his lips twisting. “I thought I knew you.”
Wendaug laughed and this laugh was sweet. “Now you think you know everything about me? You’re one of the tribe’s best hunters- it benefitted me to integrate myself with you, so I acted in a way that drew your eye and pleased you.” Lann blinked at her, hurt showing on his face.
“You could have tried picking us off in the maze. Why just continue with business as usual? “ Yunessa gestured around them. “If you knew we were coming….”
“Savamelekh is always in need of new servants. You’d be as good as any of the rest. And then…” Wendaug laughed as if the mental image pleased her. “Once you went missing, even Lann wouldn’t have dared to go into the mae to look for you.”
“Then why help me look for the sword if I was going to go into the maze?” His fury cooling, Lann’s face started to harden. “Why would you help me with that?”
“So I could kill you quietly if you found it and stop you from talking to the village, idiot!” She sneered at Lann, contempt showing on her face. “I’d have told the tribe you died from a cave-in. But then I had to change my plans.” One set of eyes moved to look at Yunessa. 
“So when you and your friends first went into the maze- that’s when you started serving Savamelekh?” 
“Yes.” That set of Wendaug’s eyes he;d Yunessa’s gaze.  “Hosilla found me. I was starving and hungry, bleeding over the floor. She offered me a choice: die as a nobody or live and gain power to change everything. Savamelekh tore off a piece of an assimar priestess’s thigh. A big juicy piece, more meat than I’d ever had in my life. That was the first time I was ever full, happy and I swore to myself it’d always be like that.” She ran her fingers over her face, licking at the blood on them. “The madness and rage almost took me over. I was almost no better than the weaklings you saw in the maze. But I am strong. I mastered myself, took control of the rage. I fell, to rise stronger than before!”
“You should have died.” Lann told her bluntly. “Death is better than… living like that.”
“Are you saying I should have died Lann? Who would have listened to your feeble jokes? Who would have showed you the best caves for hunting?” A predatory gleam appeared in her eyes. “Who would have made you a man?”
“He could have found better I’m sure. Did you serve the cultists in any other way?” Yunessa broke in. “My patience with you is already thin Wendaug, and it’s getting thinner.”
“I lured the worthy into the maze. Told stories of horrors to the rest so they would stay away. It was perfectly balanced until the cave walls shuddered and the young ones decided it was the great exodus had come. Hosilla could dispatch some young neathers… but what would happen if all the tribes poured in? So when Lann ran off to find the Angel’s sword, I went with him to make sure the sword never reached Neatherholm. But it’s a pity you got involved and stopped me from killing him.” Her spidery fangs showed again. “But the evening gong has not yet struck.”
“You’re disgusting Wendaug. The tribe will be better off without you, just like me. Your death will make the world a better place.” Lan reached to his belt and Yunessa raised their hand up, starting draw on their magick.
But Wendaug lept back with surprising speed, Camellia’s blade striking at the air where she had been. “All bark and no bite, Uplander! Next time I won’t spare you.”  She jumped once more, moving up the walls with surprising speed to disappear into the rafters and run. 
“Wendaug!” Lann called out.  But if she heard him or cared about anything besides running at all, there was no response. “I-” He took a slow shuddering breath. “Damn it Wendu. Why….? No point in crying over broken arrows, I suppose.” He looked to Yunessa.”You can stay here and rest. I’ll bring the chief- I need the walk to clear my head.”
When Lann did return it was with all the gathered mongrels, Anevia, and Gwerm. Sull was one of the first to arrive. The journey had taken its toll on him. He looked over the room, his eyes resting on the unconscious mongrel children. “What…Whats’ish?”
“Turns out old Hulrun isn’t as crazy as we thought. I’ll be dammned. There really were demons down here. I should have listened and searched below down here, damn it.” Anevia looked in better spirits than when they saw her last, limping less as she moved around the room. 
Horgus however, looked as if he was disgusted by it all, keeping his distance from the aasimar’s corpse and the unconscious mongrel young. If he had any comment on it, he didn’t offer it.
“How’s the leg Anevia?” Yunessa asked, ready to offer their arm out.
“Better than yesterday, worse than the day before. I’m not gonna die, don’t worry.” She assured Yunessa and Yunessa nodded. “Chief Sull, will you be able to look after the kids?”
Sull wiped at his face. “Lann told me all of it ash we came here. As long as they can hunt, the resht can wait. You and Lann shaved them Uplander. But we’re a tribe- the Godsh alone can salvage their shouls but we will think of something. And when they are shtronger, they can go up to the surface. The time hash come.”
“I’ll make sure there’s a place for your tribes Chief.” And then leave. Hopefully.
“I’ll lead them all the rest of the way to the surface chief.” Lann gestured to Yunessa’s group. “And I’ll keep going with them. Something interesting is happening in the world and it’ll be more useful than me skinning rats.”
“You were never one of ush. Not really.” Chief sull sighed heavily. “You always looked up. You thought I never shaw thosesh things? Out life ishn’t for you- you musht go. But where will you go?”
“Wherever Yunessa goes.” Lann reached into his pants, pulling out a thick sheaf of papers and a key too offer them to Anevia.  “I don’t know what these are but I’m sure you’ll find it all handy.”
Anevia’s eyes skimmed over it all before handing it to Yunessa to read. “Cheeky sons of bitches! This is information on the cultists here. Their meeting places, passwords, their secret hideouts… We should show this to whoever is in charge of Kenabres right now. As soon as we get back up to the surface.”
“RIght.” Yunessa agreed, stowing the documents away. “Back to the surface we go.”
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keepermcge · 4 years
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draven-imani · 3 years
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Journal 6
Today was another long day. Another very long day. I don’t even know how to begin to express how much happened today.
We broke fate.
We did what we came to the Grey Garrison to do and according to a higher being we weren’t actually meant to have done that but we did anyways and it changed everything. It changed an entire timeline. We did that. I’m still processing that.
Let me start from the top.
We made for Old Kenabres first thing in the morning. We were given a number of supplies from Arashniaval for our strike force, while Horgus was using his own funds to supply the main troops. The Silver Legion and the units Commander Tirabade had been able to muster rode ahead and drew away the brunt of the demonic forces, leaving the Grey Garrison mostly unguarded. The Commander did not join the forces drawing distraction, however. She would be fighting alongside us to reclaim the shard of the Wardstone from Deskari’s hands. And she was not the only one. This morning the envoy the Commander sent down to speak with the First Descendants returned as well. And they came alongside forces from below ground lead by Lann, ready to join the fight against the demon scourge. Lann and a number of his rangers joined our strike team. Each of us paired up with a ranger, with the group deciding I should team up with Lann since I was the captain of this mission. I had no arguments there. Lann proved to be a very capable marksman. Even without cold iron arrows he managed to do some damage to some of the demons we faced, which is more than I could say for most people.
If we ever have a moment when we aren’t fighting for our lives for once, I wouldn’t mind having a chance to chat with him outside of life-threatening situations. Lann seems like a good guy. But apparently my life is going to be getting really busy really soon, so that’s probably not in the cards.
As we approached the grey garrison, we saw two sentries. We identified the twisted reanimated mockeries as vermleks, parasitic demons who puppeteer corpses of the dead. The victims in question were High Commander Hulrun, and the head of Nyserian Manor ironically enough. It would seem Lord Nyserian met with a terrible fate when he presented Commander Tirabade’s sword to the demons, in a bid to try to get safe passage and a position of power. We found proof later that this was their punishment for him not giving it to them sooner. Serves a coward and a traitor right, for the innocent blood on his hands.
My feelings about Hulrun are more complicated. He was a powerful crusader. He should have been able to stand up against the demons as a symbol of strength against the tide of evil. Instead he was felled and turned into a mockery. So I found what they did despicable and I wanted to put him to rest. But I also never found him to be the height of what we could stand for. He was no Irabeth Tirabade. At one time he was a paranoid man who brought out the worst in our people for many years. He led the witch hunts, which may have been a little before my time, but the effects of which still echo down. I…deeply fear what would happen if anyone found out about the mark I keep under wraps.
Whether he truly become better or simply had others who advised him to tone it down, I will likely never know now. And quite frankly it doesn’t matter, as he is dead and we have more pressing matters than the past to contend with.
Speaking of that accursed mark, it was bleeding a stream of blood worse than ever before, and burning like someone had taken a hot iron to it. I couldn’t help but flinch, and the others couldn’t help but notice the bandages that were already stained red before we had even entered battle. I…promised to explain later. And I suppose I will have to, if it’s going to cause so much blood that I cannot hide it around so many demons. I will have to find a new method. Perhaps a bracer of some kind…
Hiskaria asked ‘you too’ when I started rubbing at my arm initially, and showed me a mark on her back. It was not anything near the same as the festering mark on my wrist. She had some sort of large glowing spiral birthmark on her back. Although there was one thing in common I found: both appeared the day our families died. Hers was reacting here as well, which was apparently abnormal. Hers had something to do with the Riftwardens—which now that I think about it she’d kept buddying up to Arashniaval frequently, going to him to comfort him when he thought the Riftwardens died despite just meeting him, and he’d reacted to her in surprise when we’d first met her.
For now, however, we needed to focus on the mission as hand. There were two demon sentries. If we took them out fast, we might not alert the entire temple of our presence right away. Luna did her usual thing, going invisible and sneaking up on one, getting a good swing in on it, although not enough to destroy its host. Commander Tirabade charged in behind her, stabbing it, and Melody joined her.
Hiskaria and I focused on the other. Radiance was more insistent than ever that these demons be cleansed—the bodies of the faithful needed to be freed and put to rest properly.
These creatures took a beating and still remained standing, sending wave after wave of negative energy through us with mass inflict wounds. The Commander cut down the one who was possessing Hulrun—trying to be respectful of the dead, although once Luna got started insulting him for the witch hunts it was hard for any of us to not agree with her points that the man was kind of an ass. Still, the demon was dead and I’d at least follow Radiance’s request to lay his body to rest later, even he deserved that much.
The other demon devoured its host, but was then skewered through on Melody’s glaive, leaving the courtyard outside the temple silent.
Then Melody looked up. She told us in a hushed voice that she saw her goddess’ songbird. But also a twisted being who looked like a humanoid woman with a clawed locust’s arm. An oracle of Deskari. And probably a powerful one at that if her body was twisted in such a manner.
This would be no easy task. But we needed to get to the wardstone and destroy it, to keep it from being used as a weapon and turning our own symbol of protection against our unsuspecting men and women on the front lines. Whether it would be easy or not didn’t matter.
Luna slipped ahead of us, practically vanishing as she pulled her hood over her head and she seemed to become one with the shadows with her mastery of stealth. I focused on Iomedae’s blessings, using her mastery of the warrior’s ways to try to keep up with my swift footed companion.
A fight had already broken out by the time I arrived. Luna had snuck up behind a tiefling cultist and liberated his head from his shoulders. The rest had tried to swarm her, but she was not an easy woman to harm in such a way. Lann shot an arrow into the fray, catching the attention of one of the tieflings and drawing him out of the room to me, which I swiftly cut down. The rest were taken care of by Hiskaria’s arrows and Luna and Melody’s blades.
Now that we were inside of the temple, Radiance’s energy was feeling more insistent than usual. They told me that this was once a temple to Iomedae, and it should be cleansed and returned to its former glory. I got the sense that they meant immediately, not after we got rid of the demons. At first as I cleared the demons I argued with Radiance, telling the sword that I needed them to be patient—if we tried to cleanse the temple before we got rid of all the demons, the demons would just desecrate it again.
What made me change my mind was the room with the arms.
I am not going to describe the room with the arms. Just know that…the demons and their cultists made some very visceral and disgusting idols in mockery of our holy places.
I was ambushed by several cultists of Deskari in that room. Which was a veeeeeery good way to get some very recently acquired bad feelings out of my system. With some help from the others, we cleared out the three cultists who thought they would be adding me to their sick idol. Sick bastards.
Then Melody opened a door. And got a bomb right in the face.
Because alchemists suck like that.
Luna went in with her axe, but the man had a spell on that made hitting him difficult, he shifted around the attacks, our visuals on him were blurred and difficult to see correctly. Hiskaria got a bright idea, and cast magic missile on him.
I liked that idea, and produced a wand of magic missile we’d been given by Arashniaval, and did the same. Between the two of us and Luna, we beat away at the alchemist. He used a smoke bomb to try to hide from the missiles. Hiskaria got in closer, drew fire from him, and was able to give me enough of an idea of where he was that I could get up in his face and cast it once more. Which was all we needed.
From there we only had one way to go. Which was behind a locked door Luna was having difficulty opening. We decided to work together to smash through it. With Luna taking point, we threw everything we had into it, and finally managed to burst the door.
Straight into a room with a tiefling and three dretches.
It wasn’t actually that difficult. Luna ran past the dretches and took on the tiefling. Commander Tirabade and Melody took on the dretch nearest the door, which I used the Commander’s shield for cover to slip in and attack the one next to her, Radiance giving me a particularly spectacular moment killing the dretch in a single swing. The final dretch tried to flee, but Luna took a swing at it as it did, then ran after it and ended it before it could try to warn anyone on the second floor.
We were a little bruised, but not so much that we felt like we needed to sound the retreat yet.
Radiance was even more insistent, and I was feeling a bit twitchy after the aforementioned room as well. I requested some time to clear out the bottom floor before we continued on. The others agreed, as it would give them some time to check for anything of value on the bodies they may have missed.
So, I got to work. First clearing out the…aforementioned room. Doing burial rites for the desecrated bodies and for Hulrun while I was at it. Then I cleaned the prayer room. Which had an interesting engraving in celestial, although I cannot read the language. I recalled that Gabrielle could as an aasimar, although I didn’t want to make assumptions given how different Luna is—so I asked if anyone in our group could speak the language. As fortune would have it, Luna did speak celestial, and was willing to help, despite needing to kneel before the alter to see the engraving properly. She would not tell me what it said, instead, she went over to a glowing outline of a doorway we’d noticed in the other room, and spoke the words, “Let us inherit thine arms, Iomedae.” The doorway swung open. Inside was an amazing armory. Cold iron weapons of all kinds, an enchanted longsword, sturdy shields, and a gorgeous breastplate with Iomedae’s holy symbol emblazoned across it. I feel speed is what we needed more than heavy armor at the moment, or I would have gladly donned it.
I also may have hesitated because I think it looked like that sort of think Auriel would have liked. I feel like I remember him mentioning he intended to get something similar to this at some point. Or maybe that’s just me projecting. I don’t know.
Anyways.
After that was done we cleaned up the museum, in which we found an adamantine morningstar of all things. Would have been useful for that door earlier. We gave it to Luna. Adamantine with her strength will be useful I’m certain.
With everything cleaned up and Radiance a bit quieter, we decided to head up to the second floor.
The second floor was almost blood bath. I…kind of don’t remember a lot of the fight that happened here. It was a blur, and I went down a few times. A lot of times. They really had it out for me. For obvious reasons, I was the only Iomedaen in the room. And possibly because of the accursed mark on my arm, who knows? What I do know is, we got upstairs. Melody got besieged on all sides, and the moment one of the tiefling cultists died, we heard the voice of the oracle. And she summoned a swarm of locusts from the tiefling’s body, which attacked Melody on his death, badly injurying her with negative energy. I ended up running in and putting myself in between her and some of the other enemies with the intention of drawing some attention away from her. Which worked. Unfortunately it worked a little too well. I got swarmed by tieflings and Deskari cultists, and when Melody or Heskaria killed one the oracle would cause the locust swarms to pull the life from me. I went in and out of consciousness more than a few times here. I was lucky the Commander was here. She and Hiskaria kept me alive. Between Commander Tirabade’s lay on hand’s and Hiskaria’s wand of cure moderate wounds she’d picked up somewhere along the way. I definitely owed her one. I guess as her ‘acting captain’ I’m putting in a few good words for her for sure at this point.
When the swarm of enemies died down, we began looking around a bit more. We found a room with a bowl of water and—viscera—with zombies milling about. We took care of them with literally no issue. Radiance once again began insisting on immediately consecrating the room, and I once again told them that we needed to wait until we knew there was nothing nastier on this floor after what we’d just dealt with, if the oracle could reach out through her followers up here. Radiance didn’t like that answer, but conceded that it was my choice either way. Good. Maybe Luna was onto something with putting my foot down with them.
Melody was standing near a door looking a bit spooked, and as I approached she quietly told me something was on the other side talking in her mind. She described it, and I reasoned out that it was a Schir demon due to the sound of gnawing on metal she heard. We decided to let Luna go in first, as it was probably prepared but to my knowledge they couldn’t see those who were invisible. So she downed another potion and slipped inside, getting a good stab at him before he could react. Unfortunately, he proved a bit more damaging than expected, and we heard Luna calling for someone to help her out. I was planning to join her, since demon slaying is kind of my specialty. But then something else burst from the door behind me. A strange chimera creature. Not a demon, but an evil intelligent beast working with them. A peryton. The creature bared its fanged in something between a smile and a snarl as it greeted me, before lashing out, knocking me against the wall and dashing any hope of me going to Luna’s aid.
Fortunately, both Melody and Commander Tirabade were able to help Luna, while Hiskaria put some arrows into the creature attacking me. The Commander apparently killed the demon, then Luna charged out of the room and with a single swing of her axe beheaded the peryton.
The rest of the floor was so easily cleared out I legitimately don’t even remember what the creatures in the last room were. Some kind of insect or spider that caused darkness, but Luna was able to cast light due to her aasimar bloodline and dispel it. I blocked the doorway to protect Melody and let Hiskaria and Melody take shots at them until I was hurting too badly to continue that tactic, then stepped aside for Luna the clean up the rest.
After that was done, Luna began going through some papers that she had seen the cultists looking over before. I began clearing out the room the zombies had been in that Radiance had reacted to. And the others began checking the other rooms for anything that might be useful or important.
After I cleared and purified the water in the bowl it became immediately obvious that it was a scrying dish, as it activated on its own. It had two things to show me. First, was Leto and Commander Spriggans. They were in the middle of the demon hordes, separated from their unit. They were fighting valiantly, and they didn’t look worse for the wear at the moment. But with their positioning, I knew if I called the retreat now, they might get left behind. They might end up stuck behind enemy lines. Or worse, overwhelmed and killed.
Before I had time to process that, a second vision was granted. This one a bit closer to where we were. It was of the oracle, upstairs. She was panicking. Pacing, muttering to herself “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck”, terrified of how quickly we were tearing through her forces, of how quickly we were making our way to her and undoing all her work. The angle of the scry then panned out, showing me the room outside, allowing me to see the fiendish minotaur guarding the door to her chambers. It gave me a good idea of what we were going to be facing when we went up there. It was a tiny room to be dealing with such a large creature, not much room to maneuver. Not much room to get Luna into a flanking position.
But more importantly, we’d been planning to call the retreat after this floor. Because we were all exhausted. We were low on magic. We were low on healing. We were hurting. But if we did that, we were going to put Leto and Commander Spriggans in danger.
I had to make a call. Retreat. Put the mission and the people in front of me first and risk Leto. Or push forward, risk everything so I could try to bring everyone back safe. Assuming I didn’t get everyone killed doing so.
I was paralyzed with indecision.
The others were talking about various things they’d found. A list of traitors here and elsewhere, which was useful. Some other things I honestly was too distracted at the time to really process. Then Luna started talking about how we ought to head out if we were going to call the retreat and get back to Defender’s heart, since we were getting tired. Melody and Hiskaria agreed.
I stopped them. I told them to wait. I explained I’d seen something in the scrying room, and I explained what I’d seen and why it was a problem for retreating. But also why not retreating was a problem.
Luna said she didn’t give a damn, and said on the count of three everyone raise their hand who voted to keep going. All three of them did.
I—was speechless. I am not so proud as to think they did not understand how much of a risk they were taking pushing forward. They knew how much they were risking, and what they were doing, to keep Leto safe. A man they’ve barely even met once, but who they knew was important to me.
I owe them. More than I can begin to repay. But I am going to start, as best I can.
After I finished cleansing the second floor, we made our plan for how to deal with the third. We knew that the oracle was not at her best. We also knew how the minotaur’s room was laid out. We decided to use this to our advantage. There wasn’t much room to maneuver—not even enough for us to bring our ranger companions along, we had them watch our backs and stay on the second floor—but there was just enough to possibly get Luna in behind him if we played our cards right.
Luna drank another invisibility potion, and crept ahead of us. We waited for half a minute, then followed, with Melody in the lead. The plan was for her to lure the beast forward, as she was the only one with a weapon that could reach as far as the minotaur’s. She would stand in the stairwell and taunt the beast until it charged her, then Luna would step behind it and attack the moment its back was no longer to the door.
The plan worked. It worked exactly like we’d planned. Except for one problem. I didn’t see it for myself, I was still in the stairwell. But I heard about it afterwards. When the beast began to lumber forward, Luna stepped in to attack. She landed a devastating blow, drawing her axe up from the bottom of its spine to its neck. The creature stopped, and swung around, and its own axe swung into Luna. The fiendish creature put a smite into the blow, and its full strength behind it. With a single swing, Luna crumpled. I didn’t see the attack, but I saw the end result. There was blood everywhere.
Commander Tirabade charged in, and ended the beast’s life in a single final stroke, Luna having nearly ended it with her single blow. This left the room clear for Hiskaria to run in and use her wand to heal Luna back to her feet, and Melody to finish getting her back up. By the time I reached her, she looked good as new, if not a little shaken or perhaps just displeased that her blow hadn’t killed the beast outright. There was blood splattered across everything.
I really owe Luna after all this is over, with how close that was.
Then Luna suggested we do that again for the next room. We went to argue. I wondered if maybe she���d taken some head trauma on top of the axe wound. But she pointed out that technically the plan worked fine—she’d just gotten unlucky with the minotaur’s axe. She was pretty sure the same wouldn’t happen a second time with this panicky oracle. And this time we’d all be right outside the door.
I hated to admit it, but the plan had worked pretty well. And getting Luna in the room and flanking the oracle would be the best way to ensure she went down quickly. So we all agreed. Luna drank another potion and vanished, then we opened the door.
The oracle laughed manically when she saw us, her eyes wild and desperate. She was a twisted disgusting thing, her form warped into some sort of half-elf/locust combination by Deskari’s magic. I wouldn’t have even recognized her as a fellow half-elf myself if Luna hadn’t said something earlier when one of us was describing her. I am glad that the taint that this mark on my arm has left on me has done no such thing, I much prefer my face and arm as they are thank you.
The oracle—whose name I felt no particular urge to memorize, my apologies, I think it would have galled her to know she wasn’t that important—warned us to stay back. She asked where Luna was, to which Melody claimed that she’d been killed by the minotaur. One look at the bloodied room seemed to be enough to convince her of the truth of that, as she laughed in our faces at our folly. She motioned, and two portals appeared. What appeared to be two babau demons appeared, with Leto and Commander Spriggans held hostage. She warned that she would have them killed if we didn’t retreat and let her finish her work.
I…admit to not thinking straight here. I froze. Obviously, I knew we couldn’t just throw down our arms, not when so many lives were at stake with the wardstone right there. But I also wasn’t about to throw my brother and commander to the wolves.
Thankfully, Melody was much more clear-sighted than I. She ran forward, and attacked one of the supposed demons. The illusion around them flickered and vanished, revealing the truth underneath. Two constructs, which had created the illusory demons—and the illusions of Leto and Commander Spriggans, who were not there at all.
I was incensed at the trickery. I realized then that the desecrated scrying chamber had very likely been to look for someone one of us cared about to use against us, and she had chosen Leto. This kind of construct could only be used with an illusion preprogrammed into it—which meant they knew what to put in ahead of time, and someone elsewhere had put it in and sent it over. The constructs had the holy symbol of Sivanah emblazoned on them, so it seemed someone within their church was responsible. According to Luna, it was Lady Salzala. I’m inclined to believe her. Apparently, the mummified locust with the book she stole the day we met was addressed to her as well, so a lot of things keep pointing back in her direction. Commander Tirabade said she left with a contingent of her men on ‘business’ after the attack, so it would appear she fled the scene.
Unfortunately, her name was not amongst the ones in the documents Luna found naming traitors, so we lack any further evidence, although the Commander is going to look into it further.
With the bluff called, we attacked. Luna appeared as she swung her axe at the twisted locust oracle. Both Luna and the oracle looked surprised for a moment, I didn’t catch what either said, but then the oracle used a spell to teleport across the room.
While Melody and I focused on her and Luna dealt with the constructs that had flanked her, Hiskaria had a different idea in mind. She swung around, avoiding the fight entirely, and pulled out the rod of cancellation we’d been given to destroy the Wardstone. We were here to do a job, and she was going to make sure it got done, one way or another.
The oracle cried out, but it was too late. Hiskaria pushed past whatever last defenses the final piece of the wardstone may have had, and it shattered in a blinding flash. Shards rained down around us like meteors in miniature. They ripped the oracle and her constructs to shreds, but miraculously the rest of us were untouched—whenever they came near us, they redirected, whooshing around as if we had our own little gravity field and then being thrown in another direction.
Then everything went white. Me, Luna, Melody, and Hiskaria found ourselves in this place alone, Commander Tirabade was nowhere to be seen. Radiance floated before us, pulsing with energy, their blade face down. They spoke, and as they did we began to see visions of what they spoke of. Visions of things past. Of how the Wardstone came to be. Of Commander Tirabade and Stauton Vhagn…apparently former friends, before his betrayal. Of the Stormlord’s first attack on the Wardstone, and then Stauton’s betrayal and escape from the city. And then the most recent attack on the stone, the one that shattered it and brought us together. The attack that killed Trendalor—we know for certain now that the city’s defender is dead, his body stolen away by demons. And then we saw various demons guarding the stone, each powerful entity growing bored with their post and handing it off to one below them, until finally it fell to the oracle, who paced the room fearfully, knowing what would happen to her should she fail at our hands.
Then we saw what was supposed to happen next. The fate that we avoided. The time that was meant to come to pass, but didn’t. Arelu Vorlesh stepped from a portal with a purple crystal in hand, and began corrupting the Wardstone. And she succeeded. Dark tendrils spread through the land, they infected the crusaders through their connection to the divine within the Wardstone, and it twisted and warped them all into half-fiend monstrosities under Deskari’s power. Deskari’s army grew into a force all that more unstoppable, bolstered by our own men whose lives and souls were ripped away all at once.
Then the vision shattered, and we saw what had happened when we shattered the Wardstone instead. A great wave of golden energy swept across the land, destroying countless demons in its wake. Not obliterating their forces, unfortunately—more will come crawling from the Worldwound in the days to come, but it’s still a mighty blow that should buy us some time to regroup after what they did to Kenabres. A nice bit of divine retribution for those who have died.
Radiance spoke to us again. Or, the Spirit of the Hall of Heroes. I couldn’t quite tell if this was the exact same being as the one who spoke to me through the blade. I do recall Radiance referring to themself as the Spirit of the Hall of Heroes before, so likely the same? Radiance is less of a mouthful and easier to write, though. Maybe just ‘The Spirit’ for now, to avoid confusion, because I still had a version of Radiance to use in what was to come as well.
The Spirit drew a glowing blade of light from what had appeared to be Radiance’s blade, and pointed it at us. They told us to show them that we were worthy of the power to defy fate itself. Then they took the form of a man wielding a polearm and the form of a crystalline phoenix formed before them. And flames erupted around us.
Hiskaria did what she does best and peppered him with arrows. I patched myself up with some quick healing and tried to come in for an attack, but their form shifted again, this time into a tiefling man with a large hexagonal shield and he blocked my blow. However since I was harrying them, Luna was about to come around behind him and get a blow of her own off with her axe. Their form shifted to a human woman with a similar axe in an attempt to block, but Luna’s attack managed to get through. Then the spirit’s form shattered. They reformed their crystalline body farther in the white void—now an elven woman with a bow, and began shooting off rapid deadly arrow shots at us that made Hiskaria’s already deadly aim look like a child’s shooting.
We went with the same tactic as before, with Hiskaria shooting from afar, Melody charging in with her glaive, myself healing and sweeping in to flank with Luna, and finally Luna dealing a crippling blow to the crystalline Spirit. The being’s form shattered, underneath was a second form, somewhat like an elven man in appearance, although still made of crystal, holding a staff with twisting gears, the only part of them not crystalline. They tapped the staff, and everything was tugged backwards, returned to how it had been when the fight had first begun. The Spirit sheathed their blade. They asked each of us in turn what we were fighting for, and in turn each of us gave our personal answer.
For me…the answer’s always been the same. I want to protect people. To defend those who are less powerful from the demons, be it with a shield or at the end of a blade.
The Spirit acknowledged us as worthy of the power that had fallen into our laps—and as such they were going to return us to that moment in time, and, as he put it, ‘allow you the power you were nearly denied’.
I found myself back in the moment when the Wardstone was exploding. Shards were flying everywhere. This time, however, a piece hit me, square in the chest. Unlike the oracle and her constructs, it didn’t tear me apart. Instead, an energy flowed through every part of my being, all at once. Through my body, my blood, and my very soul. The other three experienced the same.
We didn’t have time to talk about it, or to wonder at it. As the explosion died down, a portal opened before us. One we’d already seen once before, in a vision, mere moments ago. What felt like mere moments ago, in that white void. Out stepped Arelu Vorlesh, one of Deskari’s generals, in the flesh. She was holding that same purple crystal that she’d had in the vision. She commented on the fact that we’d destroyed the Wardstone that she’d intended to use—but that its power lived on within us, and she would just have to corrupt us instead. Then she activated the crystal. There was a terrible sensation, like something cold and oily trying to take hold of my soul. Commander Tirabade charged Vorlesh, but she cast a spell that began to suffocate her, and she went unconscious in moments. Apparently it was meant to hit all of us, but the Wardstone’s power had protected us. Unfortunately its power was not protecting us from the purple crystal’s power, and we were frozen to the spot. I…was certain we were done for.
Then a blue hand reached out through Vorlesh’s portal. A light from Radiance’s crystal streaked out through her and into that being’s hand. Something was cast, and Arelu Vorlesh was left badly injured, and we were freed. Vorlesh fled. We didn’t ever get a good look at the other being.
Radiance has been silent since.
I can’t say for certain. But I think Auriel saved us. Some piece of his soul. Some version of him. I don’t know. It’s the only explanation I have. That light was in Radiance because of Auriel’s soul, so if it went to that being, it had to have been. Somehow. I know that’s weirdly optimistic of me. I’m not the sort to cling to thinking people spontaneously come back from the dead, especially people whose souls shatter on death. But—I mean Auriel was literally the Chosen One. If anyone was going to come back, right?
Anyways, Radiance doesn’t talk to me anymore. Or can’t, more likely, just like the whole ‘can’t choose Irabeth over you’ thing. But they haven’t flayed my hands, either. I think the whole ‘breaking fate’ thing means I’m able to bend the rules on the whole chosen one thing. Or maybe having a little divine power from the wardstone’s what did it. Who knows. I’m glad. If I’m honest, I’ve gotten a little attached. As much as they’ve gotten on my nerves and the whole ‘flay you alive’ thing pissed me off, I’m actually kind of sad that I can’t hear them now. For one thing, it was the last little connection to Auriel we had. I have no idea if they can hear me or if they’re in some kind of hibernation now. I’ve still been talking to them a bit. Like a crazy person, yeah, yeah.
Anyways, it wasn’t over with Vorlesh leaving. She decided to leave a parting gift. A whole swarm of babau demons. Real ones, not a bunch of illusions over constructs. Babaus are quite a bit stronger than the dretches and vermleks we’d been fighting. Under any other circumstances, we’d have definitely been overwhelmed and killed by a swarm of eight of them.
Instead, they couldn’t even touch us. I mean it, there wasn’t a scratch on us when we left. We completely overpowered these demons that should have easily outclassed us. The wardstone’s powers completely suffused our every action, everything we did seemed to be at the most perfect it could be. I cannot begin to describe to you how it feels to completely annihilate demons that should be such fearsome foes without risking going into territory that may start sounding like It’s bordering blasphemy, so I think I’ll reel it back a bit.
Afterwards, we healed the Commander, and began making our way back to Defender’s Heart. On the way, Hiskaria told us that apparently the very supportive voice in her head was apparently her goddess, Cassandalee. I’d never heard of her before, but Melody had. She was apparently more of a Numerian goddess, one of love, redemption, artifice, and good. Strange that she hadn’t gotten bigger in the 300 years she’s been around if redemption’s in her portfolio since there’s been a big need for that all things considered, since Valoria didn’t pick that up from Sarenrae. But I suppose since her main followers are apparently androids maybe she wasn’t really able to spread much outside her home base, so to speak.
Then the others decided to start hounding me as we walked back. I thought it would be about my arm, considering that seemed like the most pressing thing to ask about. But no. Apparently Luna and Melody had gotten it into their heads that Leto and I are an item. Really! I tried vehemently to correct them, that they really had the wrong idea, that we grew up together and I think of him more like a brother, but for whatever reason they still seem really unconvinced. Maybe if I send them Leto’s way he can talk some sense into them. No. He’ll probably just get them more wound up and release them back on me for the laughs. I tried to get Hiskaria to try to talk some sense into them, but she said since Cassandalee is a goddess of love she felt like it was now her sworn duty to not get in the way of this kind of talk. So now I have a Shelynite and Hiskaria to deal with about this kind of thing. Great!
Anyways. With the demons destroyed by the shockwave, there was no reason to worry about Leto and Commander Spriggans’ safety anymore. I’ll tell Leto about these shenanigans some other day. Tonight, I’m too exhausted to even think about going down there and drinking. Sleep. Sleep sounds good.
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crystalbahamut · 3 years
Text
what roams the night
FFXIV Write Day 2: Aberrant
Summary: Lyna is grateful to the Warrior of Darkness for what they have done for Lakeland, but they remain an oddity she does not fully know how to handle.
Author’s note: I started off wanting to write people talking about the WoL as the First’s Most Loveable Cryptid but ended with this. I think it’s still on theme, though. Takes place some nebulous time in ShB, after Philia is defeated. I also don’t actually know how much the general populace knows of what’s going on, so I’m winging it.
Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, playing fast and loose with canon, unspecified WoL/D (they/them used in reference), but also a mention of WoL/D crafting and generally being pleasant and helpful, cross-posted to AO3
Words: 1,188
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“It don’t seem natural.”
Lyna stops, one ear flicking towards a hushed conversation between a group of soldiers currently sitting around a fire on break. She’s been trying to keep track of potential grumbling– the addition of night exercises had caused no small amount of grief when it came to scheduling, but no one could deny the need to acclimate to patrolling in the dark, if only so that everyone stops being so distracted by the stars. This, though, doesn’t sound like complaints about decisions command has made– though Lyna notices one of her lieutenants, Boa-Lann, has a frown on his face and also has an ear turned towards the conversation.
“They didn’t even take a lantern with them– I offered and everything,” the hume says. “I couldn’t escort them, but I figured it wouldn’t do for a friend of the Crystal Exarch to get eaten by a viper on their way to the water. They told me they didn’t need it– the moon was bright enough! I mean, it was brighter than tonight, but still…”
“I think they prefer the dark,” a drahn woman says as she comes to sit with them. “I barely ever see them during the sunlight hours, but I’ve bumped into them twice after my shift.”
An elf private excitedly adds, “I saw them at night too! One time they were just crafting some leathers at a little bench they had set up outside. Weren’t even admiring the sky or nothing.”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” a ronso says, and more people are gathering when he adds, “I mean…they are…they gotta be…”
Lyna turns her ear away and sighs with frustration as she crosses her arms. A stranger shows up one day, turns out to be a very important guest of the Exarch, goes to fight at a battle at which the Lightwarden of Lakeland is vanquished, and people are not supposed to assume this newcomer is the Warrior of Darkness? The Exarch is not a stupid man– sometimes reckless, eccentric, and always prone to overlooking his own health– but not stupid, and far too devoted to the Crystarium and her people to not know this would happen. She had known this would happen, and so she curses herself for yet being unprepared to deal with it.
“Captain?”
But she is going to have to deal with it now. She tilts her ear back towards the group as though she hasn’t been listening– thankfully there are no other viis to call her on that– and lets her head follow. Behind the (now much bigger) group, Boa-Lann tilts his head in question and she subtly shakes her own. He nods once but stays, and she is thankful for the backup. “What is it?”
“You saw the Warrior of Darkness at the battle for Holminster Switch, didn’t you?” the hume asks and they all eagerly lean forward. Like children, she thinks with faint amusement. They do their duties well; she cannot entirely begrudge them their excitement.
And yet.
“I did,” she says, and before any more questions can be asked, quickly adds, “And I have been forbidden from revealing their identity or anything that can lead to such a reveal. Such orders were given by the Crystal Exarch himself.”
There is, predictably, a lot of groaning and protestations. She remains impassive in the face of them.
“Why?” the ronso asks. “Do the people not deserve to know the face of their savior?”
“I do not think he would disagree with that reasoning,” she says, because she doesn’t. “But it is more complicated than that, as the Warrior of Darkness also requested their identity not be revealed. I cannot speak for my lord but, were I in his place, I would want to keep relations with them as pleasant as possible. They have done us an unimaginable service already…I think abiding their wish for anonymity is not an unreasonable request.”
The ronso grumbles but does not countermand her. He is that sensible, at least.
“I think…I think that’s probably for the best,” a hume woman, one of the healers, says hesitantly. “If they’re here to bring the dark back to the world, they have to go to the other Lightwardens, and then with Eulmore hunting them, it’s just safer and easier to be anonymous, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Lyna says, thankful for the guided distraction. “And…though I cannot say much more, I can say I asked why they would rather remain unknown. They said they prefer the people to direct their admiration to the night sky, where they feel it better belongs. Perhaps they will reveal it themself someday, but for now, their work is not yet done.”
Her words seem to soothe the edge of the more disgruntled ones, and even cause some looks of admiration among the others. Oh well; if the Exarch wants less of such wonder, he can find a way to deal with it.
Lyna stands straight and clears her throat. “And neither is ours. If Eulmore returns they will be unprepared for the darkness of night, but we will be well practiced. So– back to your units. The next break will be for dinner.”
They get up without complaint and Lyna watches them go before she turns– only to come nearly face to face with the subject just discussed. “What-what are you doing here?”
The Warrior smiles apologetically and hefts a bag to readjust it on their shoulder. “Sorry; I saw you talking to your soldiers and didn’t want to interrupt.”
“How did you come up so quietly?” Lyna doesn’t mean to sound so irritated, but her ears work just fine, thank you.
“I stepped around the foliage,” they say, like they did not just come from an angle with no lanterns.
“Sounds like stepping silently in the dark is pretty natural to you,” one of the soldiers says cheekily.
“I’ve participated in a treasure hunt or two. You learn to get real quiet creeping around caves full of things that would like to eat you,” the Warrior says pleasantly and shifts again, either not understanding the implication or completely ignoring it. Lyna doesn’t know fully what to think of them just yet. “Um, Captain, since I have your attention, I don’t suppose you can point me to the mess? I’ve got a delivery from the Crystarium and I’d really like to put it down.”
“You’re helping with dinner?” she asks, because even not being known as The Warrior, surely the Exarch’s guest is above such menial tasks?
“I’m a trained chef; I can help,” the Warrior says defensively. They then drop their voice and wink at Lyna. “I mean…if you can’t trust me with your food, who can you trust, right?”
The first one then. Lyna can’t help but smile ever so slightly. “I suppose you have a point,” she says and directs them to the right building. As she watches them go, cheerfully on their way to help cook dinner for a bunch of soldiers, she shakes her head. The Warrior of Darkness is an odd one, for certain.
But she can’t find it in herself to mind overmuch.
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histoireettralala · 4 years
Text
Monster
Hello friends! This is a new thing that sprang out of another discussion with @joachimnapoleon. Once the idea took hold of my brain, I couldn’t get rid of it, so... here you go.
*****
When Joachim told her one morning that he was going to buy a horse, Caroline wasn't surprised. He'd been meditative and quiet the last four days, throwing longing looks at the stables and the grazing horses. This was just the way he usually behaved when pining for a new horse.
So she had kissed his cheek and off he’d been gone.
And now, staring at the horse, she wondered how everything could have gone so wrong.
The horse was, to put it mildly... unsightly.
It was a huge and menacing black form, with a head like a lump of rock and teeth like tombstones, and it was staring back at her.
But when Joachim turned to her with his beaming smile, asking: "Isn't he wonderful ?", Caroline didn't have the heart to tell him his precious new friend looked like it belonged with garbage.
*** Caroline could have made her peace with the horse being ugly.
Despite popular opinion, Joachim wasn't stuck on looks, for animals in any case. How many times had she seen him fall all over himself to rescue a mangy alley cat or sorry three legged dog... wounded bird... stinking weasel... Name it, he'd fall for it.
No, to be honest, Caroline was more likely to judge on looks. And she enjoyed the sight of her beautiful husband on a beautiful horse, and basked in the appreciative looks and sighs of envy the lovely vision always drew.
But if the horse was ugly, he was twice as mean.
Nobody could approach him, let alone touch him.
He hated everything and everyone. Feeding him was hazardous. Petting him was for the brave and suicidal. Nevermind riding him.
But Joachim was determined.
After an epic first ride that had Joachim look like he'd been dragged through several hedges, and through a considerable amount of mud, with a shiner and a split lip, Caroline hoped he'd come to his senses. But the silly man was more smitten than ever and the horse snorted indignantly in her direction.
And indeed, if he hated the whole world, Joachim was his only exception.
The beast even took to putting his huge body between Joachim and whoever approached him, shielding his Rider from the enemy.
Everything was the enemy. Especially Caroline.
Clearly the monstrous animal was gearing up for war. He always stared at her in that uncanny way of his, projecting threats with his every move.
And Joachim coed over him as he would have over a helpless kitten, petting him, talking nonsense. And the beast was throwing her smug looks, Caroline realized.
The damned horse now took almost all of his free time and Caroline found one more reason to hate him.
*** Joachim was happy.
He knew his new purchase hadn't convinced.. well, anyone, but he would give them time to come to their senses.
That horse was awesome. Perfect. Wonderful. Spirited, combattive, brave, powerful and fast - oh God, so fast, Joachim hadn't had such a blast on a horse since... Oh, he had never had so much fun with a horse, ever.
He was back from a ride, whistling happily, with an armful of wild flowers for Caroline (she always scoffed at this, but when he didn't come with flowers she couldn't quite hide her disappointment), and smiled when he heard her voice.
"... And he's always gone, now, riding, riding, there's nothing but the Monster, and you know I get it and it's fine, but the Monster.."
Joachim stopped short, his face falling.
Monster ?
That damn fine animal with so much heart ?
Monster ??
Joachim almost stomped back to the stables. But he remembered hearing Napoleon calling him a village rooster or King Franconi, and, with a sniff, shook his curls backwards, set his shoulders straight, and strode into the room with an easy smile.
He was not going to let a nickname ruin his life. Or style.
*** "Where is my big precious Monster ?" Joachim shouted when the family neared the stables; an impatient stamping and neighing answered him, while Caroline faltered on the alley, drawing curious looks from the children.
Oh no, he'd heard her.
Joachim could be so protective, Caroline fretted, wrapping himself around the object of his cause, whether it be a snarling, spitting cat or a crying kid.
Caroline knew first hand the intensity of that devotion.
He'd heard her.
"Oh it's you, my lovely, " he was saying, petting the horse, his voice warm and steady, " my sweet Monster."
There was no sourness to his tone.
The children were looking at the horse, amazed. It was perhaps the biggest they had ever seen. Little Louise was reaching a small hand toward a powerful leg, and Joachim gently caught it and picked her up, kissing her cheek. "See, my little love, our Monster here is just like you or me, he doesn't like to be surprised or touched by someone he can't see or doesn't know, so I'm going to introduce you, alright ?"
The little one nodded and Joachim introduced Monster to the children.
Caroline watched the big brute tolerate her children's enthusiastic and clumsy petting with a single twitch, promptly eased by Joachim's careful attention.
(Maybe she'd judged him a little too fast, she thought.)
((It didn't hurt being cautious))
**** "It's alright," Joachim quietly reassured her on their way back home.
She silently looked up at him. And he beamed.
"It's an awesome name! He IS the most fearsome and terrible mount ever known to man, and it's only fair his name should strike fear and respect among all creatures!"
He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently, then he bent to kiss her cheek, wrapping his arm around her.
"It's fine, my love," he said.
Caroline threw her own arms around him, hugging him tight.
*** "... And so I wondered when I could come ?" Lannes' voice echoed through the room.
- Anytime," Caroline answered easily. "Although you might want to avoid the stables."
Lannes had never been one to NOT jump both feet into trouble.
"Why is that ?"
Caroline stifled a laugh.
"Joachim bought Satan's horse, that's why.
- Now I have GOT to see that."
*** "Damn," Lannes whistled, half horrified, half admirative. "That's... quite an animal."
"Right ?" Joachim was beaming, atop the strangest, ugliest horse Lannes had ever met. He could swear the beast was seizing him up and finding him wanting. This tickled his pride.
He was no Murat or Lasalle, but Jean Lannes was a damn fine horseman if he said so himself (he did, thank you very much.)
"Finally someone who understands! I know he doesn't look so pretty, but after all, Napoleon can't dress, does that stop him from taking over the world ? No Sir! Monster here is the real deal, not for the faint of heart!"
Monster, Lannes mused, eyeing the animal who eyed him back warily.
Monster, Monster, he thought, watching man and rider storm around the park, fleeing into the wood as if Satan himself was chasing them.
Monster, Monster, Monster...
He HAD to ride that horse.
*** "I told you, " said Caroline, passing him the bag of frozen peas.
"Owww," Lannes answered miserably.
She tutted and shook her head, and Lannes barely refrained to tell her how much she looked like Mme Campan when she did that. He was already down after all.
"That horse hates me," he whined.
She wasn't moved.
"He hates everything, Jean, don't feel too special.
- Ow. Even you ?"
She burst out laughing.
"Oh, especially me. "
Murat entered the room, Lucien on his back and the girls holding his hands from each side.
"Uncle Lannes fell, " young Lucien giggled, "it was so funny!
- No it wasn't," Letitia said, throwing Lannes an alarmed look. "Uncle Jean could have been really hurt ! Are you okay, Uncle Jean ?
- Oh," said Lucien, his laughter abating when he noticed his uncle's wince." Was Monster too big for you ?"
The innocent question needled Lannes and he instinctively straightened.
"Not at all, " he heard himself say. " I will do it again!"
*** He did it again.
So did Monster.
*** "Really", Larrey rebuked him while taking a close look to his aching, swollen leg, " You should know better."
Acknowledge defeat ? Never.
*** It happened again.
And again.
*** Monster was flying like the wind.
He was the strongest, fastest horse, and his Rider was the strongest, fastest Rider. The only one who deserved to fly with him. The only one who got him.
Monster pranced and danced and ran.
His Rider's warm laughter and warlike yells went well with him.
Monster was having fun.
*** Lannes tried his luck again.
It happened again.
*** Monster was careful.
This time, his Rider had come to him with the small beings he had introduced to him. Just like Her, those small humans were important to the Rider, Monster knew. He shouldn't crush them. He bent his head to let a little hand pet his nose, and whiffled, and black curls flew while a giggle rose in the air. "It tickles, Papa!"
They smelled like Him.
Monster let his Rider put one of the small ones on his back, and stoically endured the little hands pawing at him. It didn't feel right with such a small weight on his back. But the hands he knew were still here, on his neck, on his flank, the voice he trusted was always present, steady and warm. His Rider wasn't forsaking him.
Monster would tolerate the small ones.
As long as it was clear he had Only One Rider.
*** "I don't understand," Louise said, "What is your fascination with that horse ? We have several of our own, and none so mean. Do you like getting thrown off ?!!?
- I don't know, " Lannes grumbled.
"You are mad," Larrey snapped. " There's nothing I can do about this.
- I can't help it," Lannes whispered.
He just HAD TO ride that horse. Just once.
They made quite a fearsome pair, Murat and Monster, a dramatic black blur fit for some epic tale, and Lannes just wanted to be part of it.
"I know," Murat said, patting his shoulder." But it has to be his choice."
I want it so much, Lannes didn't say.
*** Monster threw him off again.
Murat tended to him without a word.
"Why don't you just tell him to stop ?" Caroline had asked him around the fourth Dumping.
But Murat knew it was useless. He understood Monster's lure better than anyone. And he knew Lannes quite well too. They were just as pig headed as each other. None of them would ever yield.
"Holy shit", shouted Lannes, " what a dumping that one was !"
It had been something, Murat mused. Thankfully the children hadn't seen that one.
"Had enough ?" He lightly asked.
Lannes hesitated.
"To be honest..."
Murat leaned toward his friend.
"... No."
They both burst out laughing.
*** Letitia was very proud of her ability to ride Monster - and she didn't understand why they called him Monster (it wasn't very nice, and he was a very nice horse, she thought).
Of course she couldn't ride him alone, and she wouldn't dare anyway, not without Papa, but there was no hiding the fact that she was very, very proud to be sitting atop Monster.
Monster didn't like ANYONE except Papa (not even Mama!) and maybe, them, sometimes, if they were good and obeyed Papa.
Letitia wanted to be a good rider, so she complied and enjoyed her slow, gentle rides on the big horse.
Spotting Uncle Jean, she smiled and waved. Uncle Jean waved back, and the little girl didn't quite identify the emotions shining in his eyes (Uncle Jean had very expressive eyes, she had heard, and it was true, but that didn't mean she knew what she just saw).
*** Lannes had been very good.
He really had.
He had not touched Monster for weeks, nearly three whole months. He had come almost weekly to Joachim's house, each time taking time to visit the horse - well, stare at him and talk to him. At him. Whatever.
He had tried hard to build a bond.
The horse seemed to tolerate him now, at least that's what Joachim told him with a smile.
Lannes had been patient.
The day Monster allowed him to pet his nose almost had him crying.
He'd never had to work so hard for a horse's grudging approval.
*** It was the beginning of summer and Joachim and Caroline were celebrating the completion of their new pool with a giant party. There were balloons everywhere, kids running after each other, dogs running after kids, music and wine were flowing, and Napoleon himself was smiling as little Lucien was telling him how he'd vanquished the Ghastly Ghoul In The Attic.
A triumphant yell rose and the thumping of hooves drew everybody's attention.
A big, ugly black horse appeared on the lawn, stopping them all in their tracks.
Caroline gaped at the sight.
Jean Lannes was riding Monster, a savage joy lighting up his face, his fist clenched in the air as he passed by Murat.
"Best horse ever!!" he exclaimed, breathless with exhilaration. " This is the best aaaaahhhhh..."
Monster suddenly reared up and stamped down hard, and to the sound of Napoleon and Larrey' synchronized sighs, Lannes' yell turned into a yelp of surprise. Amazingly, Lannes held on, but Monster reared up again and Murat, running toward them, watched his brave, suicidal friend take a proper maiden flight into the pond.
There was a moment of stunned silence and then all hell broke loose.
As he fished his friend out of the pond, Murat saw Monster gently trot toward his grazing.
Lannes, drenched to the bone, a water lily on his head and mud decorating his clothes, was looking at the horse with dreamy eyes, even as he was limping and rubbing the small of his back.
"It was AWESOME", he croaked. " Did you see ?"
Their eyes met and they couldn't hold back a snicker.
Larrey was tapping his foot.
His exasperated face almost set them off again.
Napoleon, raking his hand over his face, told Murat he'd sent Lasalle take care of the damnable horse, and can you please, my dear Lannes, desist from such useless endeavours ?
Murat handed his friend over to a furious Larrey, and backed off, getting ready to go to the house to get clean clothes and towels.
Lannes' eyes met his over Larrey's shoulder.
This was not the end.
END
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an-aura-about-you · 4 years
Text
Drinking Acquaintances
I’ve been listening to a Lunar 1 let’s play during work and I decided to write in that universe again.
Nash holds his drink up, the light from the Blue Star tinted green from the amber in his glass. The ale (he THINKS it’s ale) in Lann isn’t bad in theory, though that’s an assumption since he hasn’t tried it yet. But he knows what drinks he likes and this generally isn’t what he looks for. He can already tell from the aroma that whatever this is is sweeter than his tastes, which means either it’s been sweetened or it’s not going to be very strong. Taste might not be why he wants to drink it, but it’s going to be more of a chore if he has to drink a lot of it.
He decides to stop stalling and drink the damn draught.
Nash gets about half the glass down, pulling a face when he stops. It’s growing on him, but wow, it’s so sweet and full-bodied he might as well be drinking straight honey. He wonders if Kyle would bother drinking this or if it’s more suitable to Jessica or Mia’s tastes. Either way, sober beggars can’t be choosers.
Down the hatch.
“Hey Nash!”
Nash nearly chokes on his drink but fortunately manages to get it down the right pipe.
Kyle leans over to check on him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Just surprised to see you drinking. It really must be the end of the world.”
Nash wipes his mouth with his wrist and goes, “Some of us have discerning tastes. All that’s happened is you’ve caught me making an exception. Speaking of, it’s rare to see you intelligible.”
“The night is young and I’ve only just started,” Kyle says before taking a swig from his own glass. “But I kinda wanna take this to Tamur so that maybe it’ll be a good glass of beer when it grows up.”
Nash stifles a laugh. “Imagine that, we agree on something.”
“Not to mention the both of us being smart enough to not turn down free booze.”
Kyle has a point on that. One glass down, no idea how many more to go, but at least they’re not the ones paying for them thanks to Lann naming Alex an honorary citizen and letting the alcohol flow like water. It won’t be enough for alcohol poisoning at this rate, but Nash can still work himself into a good, proper stupor and maybe not think about how screwed he is.
He already needs another drink.
“Are we the only ones drinking?” Nash asks, waving over someone with a bottle for a refill.
“I think we’re the only ones not done,” Kyle answers. “Jess already had her fill, and Alex and Mia turned it down.” He grins and says, “One of these days, Jess is gonna talk Mia into a drink, and then it’ll be all over for the two of us.”
“Mia doesn’t-,” Nash begins, but he backpedals to say, “I’ve never seen Mia drink.”
Kyle shrugs his arms wide. “So? Doesn’t mean she can’t if she wants to. ‘Snot like you’re the boss of her.”
Nash looks down at his glass at that. Every choice in front of him is the wrong one. Might as well keep it up. He takes another drink.
“Hey Nash.”
Nash turns to Kyle, the brigand wearing an oddly serious frown. It’s not that he’s never seen it before. It’s just usually not directed to him.
“I wanted to apologize,” Kyle says. “For teasing you about Mia back in Damon’s Spire.”
Nash scowls and furrows his brow. “No, you don’t.”
“Yeah, I do!” Kyle insists. “Look, Nash, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, that’s probably never gonna happen.”
“Then why are you bothering, especially when you know I don’t believe you?” Nash asks before taking another sip.
“Because the way you looked when you saw Mia fall over sick in Pao was the way I felt when I saw the same thing happen to Jess.”
It’s Kyle’s turn to take a drink after that, and Nash contemplates his words in the brief silence.
Kyle continues with, “I see that look in a man’s eyes, I know he’s gonna do for his girl what I’d do for Jess. It doesn’t feel right calling that a crush.”
“To be fair, Jessica was the one who called it a crush,” Nash points out.
“Yeah, but I was thinking it pretty loud.”
Nash considers this as he works on what’s in his glass. Once he’s made a bit more headway, he says, “Well, thank you, Kyle. I actually do appreciate that.”
“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to make a habit of it,” Kyle replies.
“Perish the thought. I likewise hope you don’t take me for a drunkard.”
Kyle makes a scoffing laugh and goes, “You? You can’t be a drunk until you actually try drinking with me.”
Nash gestures with his glass and says, “I should stand a little ways away, then. I wouldn’t want to think of us developing any sort of camaraderie.”
“Woah, let’s not go crazy. I don’t hate you, but we’re not going that far.”
Nash laughs in spite of himself.
“Hey, look at that: you actually do have a sense of humor!” Kyle says.
“It’s the drink,” Nash protests.
“C’mon, even you aren’t that much of a lightweight.”
Rather than answer that, Nash gets another glass of ale and works to find the least risky discussion he can now so he can hopefully stay on it when he’s really gone.
Just tell him, his brain whispers. Tell him the truth and get your head lobbed off. It’ll be quicker and less painful than anything else that could happen. You wouldn’t even have to make any other choices.
He keeps drinking.
“So, what’re you gonna do when all this is over?” Kyle asks. “See if Mia will wanna settle down with you? You’d probably make a good trophy husband for her.”
Well, so much for that. Nash looks at what’s left in his glass, focusing on that and not what could happen. “The only future I’m looking at right now is another glass of ale.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Kyle agrees, being tactful for once and not pushing Nash about his obvious sidestep.
It’s the last moment Nash remembers from the night, the last thing besides sickly sweet oblivion.
-
Nash steps into the Seagull Tavern, both grateful and a little pissed off that he can. It’s one thing to survive during a war. It’s another to survive during a war you’re going to lose. It’s yet another to survive during a war when you should be dead already and wonder why anyone bothered to bring you back when you’re just going to die again.
“You bastard.”
He isn’t surprised to hear that, but he still looks up to see who said it this time. It’s even less surprising to find it came from Kyle, who’s sitting at a table and on what looks to be at least his fifth drink judging from the glasses on the table.
“You bastard, Nash, you were right,” Kyle tells him with a brief, violent gesture of his glass. “Fuck you.”
“I deserve that,” Nash responds, approaching the table. “Believe it or not, I didn’t want to be right about this.”
“Shuddup,” he slurs. “If you’re not drinking, get outta here.”
“What else would I be doing in a tavern?” he asks in response. “I’ll even buy your next drink.”
Kyle scowls at him before relenting, a mirror to Nash’s own despair.
It shakes him a moment. He certainly doesn’t know the brigand well, but this is the first time he’s seen such sheer hopelessness cross his face. He never thought he’d have anything in common with the muscle-bound imbecile, especially this.
As if to hammer it home, Kyle says, “Why the hell not? What does it matter? We’re all gonna die anyway.”
“No, all of you are going to die,” Nash responds, taking a seat while thinking through their mutual resignation. “I’m going to get horribly tortured, and if I’m lucky I’ll die.”
“We were gonna do the same thing to you.”
“It’s not the same at all. Ripping me apart would still be more merciful than whatever Ghaleon has planned for me.” He waves over a waitress to order a drink. “Rewarded as a traitor deserves.”
Kyle looks over his glass in a slight fog of inebriated confusion. “I’d offer to help, but I don’t think I could take yer head off clean until I’m sober.”
“I can wait.”
He puts his glass down and says, “I’m never gettin’ sober again.”
“Well, thanks anyway. It’s the thought that counts, after all.”
Nash gets his drink, idly surprised that the Seagull Tavern actually does have cocktails as well as glasses to serve them in. But then, if there’s any cocktail that should be expected in any bar, it should be a nice, dry martini. He takes a sip and gets one more surprise, learning that it’s not as awful as he expected. In fact, it’s actually kind of good. Now this is the proper way, or at least the most proper way available to him, to get drunk.
“Shoulda known you drink cocktails,” Kyle says. “Wha’s next, a fuzzy navel?”
“I’m never going to drink anything sweet again,” Nash answers. “Not after that ale in Lann. That felt like it took forever.”
“Oh yeah,” Kyle responds. And then he adds with just enough anger riled up in his voice, “Can’t believe we were actin’ like friends. I shoulda killed you then.”
“If you had, it would have been the friendliest thing you ever did for me.”
“Yeah, well... I can’t now.”
Nash finishes his martini and moves to order another. “The only problem with this is it takes a while for the liquor to get to your head.”
“Somethin’ that never happens with beer,” Kyle points out.
“Oh let me have this; if everything’s going to hell, I might as well have a martini or two.”
“It does feel pointless,” Kyle agrees. “You know what? Fuck it. Y’did what y’did, but can’t stop it now. Why be pissed at you for th’ rest of our lives when we can drink?”
“Another rare agreement,” Nash says, holding his glass up in toast.
-
Nash looks out to the Meribian Sea, enjoying the salt of the night breeze and the martini in his hand. It’s the first moment he’s had alone since everything ended, time to contemplate his strange new situation.
For one thing, he’s alive. For another, so is everyone else he wanted to survive out of this. And not only are his companions not going to torture him, they’re actually all on about the best terms he can expect, some better than he hoped.
“Hey Nash!”
Well, so much for solitary thought, but Kyle showing up is not unwelcome this time around.
“Hey Kyle,” he greets back, not bothering to turn and face him. “What a surprise to see you here.”
“One day you’ll make a good joke, but that day’s not today,” Kyle responds, heading over with his glass of beer. “So, living in Meribia, huh? How you likin’ it?”
Nash shrugs. He didn’t get to that part yet, didn’t want to rush into it since it’s one of the bigger changes. But that’s Kyle, subtle as a sledgehammer.
“It’s weird,” Nash answers, pausing to sip his martini. “But anywhere that’s not Vane was going to feel weird to me. It seems like if I just look up in the right spot, I’ll see it. Even now, it feels like I’m spending too much time here and should go find Mia so we can go home.”
Kyle lets that sit a moment before saying, “Yeah. Is it too optimistic to think of it like being on vacation? I mean, you’ll get to go home eventually, right?”
Nash chuckles ruefully and goes, “Rebuilding Vane is going to take a lot of work.”
“It is,” Kyle agrees. “How’s Mia? Is she just as miserable about what happened as you are?”
“At this point, she’s more concerned about Majesty Lemia,” Nash answers. “And who can blame her? But even now, when she’s working, she’s already looking straight ahead at what Vane can become.”
“Man, you better not need me to tell you not to mess it up with Mia again.”
“I don’t plan on it, but if I do I’m acknowledging right here and now I deserve whatever I get. Fair?”
“Fair.”
“So, do you want to hear the other weird part?”
“Depends on how weird it is,” Kyle says before taking a drink himself.
“Not as weird as everything else but still odd: at this rate, you’re the person I’ve had the most drinks with.”
“That’s not so weird. I’m usually that person for everybody. No surprise Jess calls me an enabler.”
Nash shakes his head a little and says, “I wonder how bad it would get if all of us went out for a drink together.”
“Pretty sure that’s the definition of shitshow, Nash.”
“You’re probably right. Is it bad that I kind of want to see it anyway?”
“Nah,” Kyle says with a grin. “It’d probably be a funny shitshow.”
Nash shrugs. “Maybe it’ll happen one day. Who knows? Maybe one of these days we’ll go out to get a drink and actually plan to do it instead of one of us just butting in when the other one tries to drink.”
Kyle snorts into his glass. “Like drinking buddies? I dunno about that.”
“When you put it like that, you have a point. Us drinking buddies? The Blue Star might fall out of the sky before that happens.”
Nash immediately regrets his wording as soon as it leaves his mouth, shutting up to take another sip.
“Eh, we can still drink now,” Kyle says to gloss over it. “In any case, I’m not about to waste this brew.”
“Tell you what, we ever agree to go drinking anywhere, we’ll go to Tamur,” Nash suggests. “I never did get to try the beer last time, but anything’s bound to be better than Lann.”
“I can agree to that.” Kyle takes his turn to life his glass. “To not drinking in Lann ever again!”
“Cheers!” Nash toasts before the two of them get back to their drinks.
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galagraphia · 2 years
Note
what do you think of Wenduag?
Oops, somehow I missed this. Difficult question. I definitely prefer Lann, so I never recruit her. When I did, it was on his quest, and she didn't exactly impress me. So to me she's that terrible ex girlfriend, and I want to keep her as far from Lann as possible, because he deserves to be treated much better. And I don't appreciate her food preferences as well. Or how she harasses Woljif. Definitely not my type :)
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ladywolfmd · 7 years
Text
Ars Longa Vita Brevis
Summary: "The Art is long. Life is Short." - Hippocrates Jon is a fresh board certified Trauma Surgeon, attending conventions and workshops in between looking for a hospitals and moonlighting to start on a real practice. On one convention hosted by The Emergency Medicine Department of Casterly Rock Metropolitan Hospital, he chances upon seeing Dr. Sansa Stark, a fifth year Neurosurgery Resident. The last time Jon saw Sansa, she was a first year med student while he was a third year and were both attending a summer suturing workshop in Highgarden.
(You can read this in AO3 too: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11545893
"Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We are just about to touch down at Lannisport Airport in about 10 minutes, and we are on time. The weather around Lannisport is clear and sunny and will remain throughout this summer solstice. Thank you for flying with us today."
Jon had just woken up with a start, the weight of sleepless nights after taking on extra shifts from two hospitals he was moonlighting in at Storm's End, still weighed heavy on his lids. Ever since he passed the oral boards - the final frontier before he could officially call himself a licensed Trauma Surgeon - five months ago, he's been busy scouting hospitals that would take him on so he could start his practice. So in between applications and waiting, and of course, after a well-deserved, long overdue vacation he took, (He went sandboarding in Dorne, with his co-residents, Ed and Ned. Namely, Edric Storm, and Edric Dayne), he was moonlighting in different ERs, joining medical missions, and of course, attending many conventions and workshops to keep sharp.
And this time, he would be going to a postgraduate course in Casterly Rock.
While waiting for the plane to land, he lazily looked out his window and marveled when he saw the outline of the famous Rock come to view even from still high up. The massive stone hill was the second tallest structure in Westeros, second only to the Hightower Castle in Oldtown, while The Wall rounded up the three as the third highest.
The unmistakeable rock indeed looked like a lion staring up the sun, and much as I wasn't a fan of the Lannisters in general (because frankly who is?), the Rock was indeed looking beautiful the closer we approach. Jon thought. Especially the ostentatious castle, which looked like a golden beacon on top of the hill - like an offering to the gods.
As the plane descended, Jon watched as even the waters of the Sunset Sea gleamed ochre, proving its namessake with the sun setting over it while red sails with golden lions dotting over the bay, signaling that they were now approaching the famous docks of Lannisport.
As more of the walled city showed itself, more reds, golds and lions as adorned by the uniforms of the men of the City Watch were everywhere,  making Jon fight the urge to roll his eyes.
At least you had to hand it to the Lannisters. Spare no expense indeed and this will only get more grand and obnoxious in  an in-your-face-you-are-in-Lannister-territory obnoxious, the closer we enter the lion's den.
Jon suddenly thought of his uncle Viserys and aunt Dany - and this time he didn't hold back from rolling his eyes.
Dragonstone wasn't better. He shook his head and chuckled, the view of the runway coming closer and closer as they approached.
Dragons and Lions and too bold colors. He shook his head again.
I prefer Direwolves.
This time he smiled more genuinely.
Once they landed in LanX, Jon was impressed with the service, for indeed, it was truly one of the world's best, never mind that Jon has never seen as many blondes in his life and he was just at the airport.
It only took Jon barely ten minutes through luggage and the checks when he was already on a shuttle to his hotel in Casterly.
The twenty minute ride went without issue. Jon was thanking the old gods that his cabbie wasn't chatty so he was able to enjoy the view of the Sunset Sea as it stretched out from up the skyway.
He took a moment to pull out the brochure and program souvenir they mailed him after he registered.
"The Emergency Medicine Department of Casterly Rock Metropolitan Hospital, welcomes you to its 78th Annual Postgraduate Course with this year's topic: "Breaking Brains and Bones" An Update on Head Traumas and Fractures, Approaches in the E.R."
Venue: The Lann Regency Hotel
July 12-13, 2012
The course was open to all specialties and even general practitioners and all allied health professionals but most of those who were going were, of course, Emergency Medicine specialists, General Surgeons, Trauma Surgeons - like me -  Internists, and of course, with the topic, Neurologists, Neurosurgeons, and Orthopedic Surgeons.
Neurology was always a waterloo of Jon since medschool and since he won't be able to avoid head and spine traumas in the E.R., he quickly grabbed the opportunity to attend when Rhaenys, his older sister by his father, showed the ad for it when she visited him in Storm's End while she was attending an Obstetrics convention held there.
"Try and explore The Rock while you're there. For all the pride the Lannisters have, it's well founded there. It's honestly beautiful once you get past the sea of blondes," Rhaenys chuckled. "Anyway, you'll see Dr. Tyrion there and maybe Sarella."
Jon smiled. Dr. Tyrion Lannister was one of his favorite professors at Dragonstone University where he studied. He was a Neurophysiologist but was more famous for being a Bioethicists. He was also scheduled to do a lecture for the course and he'd be sure to attend.
Sarella Martell, however, was his sibling's cousins from their mother.  She was an Anesthesiologist who specialized in Orthopedic cases as well as a Toxicologist like her father, Dr. Oberyn Maryell.
His thoughts were broken his phone rang. Dany. Daenerys Targaryen, Jon's aunt.
"Hello?"
"Jon! Are you in Casterly already?" came his aunt's cheerful voice.
"Almost. Still in the cab. How'd you know?"
"Drogo saw your name on the listings. He's asking if you're also staying at the Regency."
Drogo was Aunt Dany's husband. They met when she was assigned as a diplomat in Pentos. Drogo, in turn, was an Ortho jock there and it was no surprise that he would also be attending. Why didn't I think of this earlier?
"I'm staying at the Regency. Give me his number, I'll call and maybe we'll get drinks later," Jon always liked Drogo. Sure he could easily murder an army with his bare hands, but he was actually a decent guy - and putty in Dany's tiny hands. He smirked.
"Great! I'll send it. We've actually been there before so he could show you around. Tomorrow's the start of your thing, right?"
"Aye,"
"Perfect. I"ll tell him. Enjoy your time there - but not too much! Remember, dragons are better than puny lions," she giggled. "And you are still a dragon no matter what."
He snorted. "Okay." I changed my name, okay! Move on.
"The next responsible thing to do is to tell you to go meet a girl while you're there but I don't think I could stomach you bringing a Lannister to join our bloodline," she gagged. "Soooo... the compromise is to say, have fun and don't forget to use protection!"
Jon hung up, embarrassed, before he could hear her cackling on the other line.
Trust Dany to take a jab at my on-again, off-again relationship with Ygritte Ryder, an EMT I met in Skagos where she lived. Sure we weren't labeled or constant, but long-distance would do that to you. She's still my first love or infatuation or whatever worked and we talked and met up as we could, but we both knew that we were just each others 'in-betweens' until 'the one' comes along. I was nothing but fond of her and we did try more seriously but we both knew there was something that was amiss.
Before Jon could think further, the cabbie alerted him.
"We're here sir."
Jon stepped out the cab, grabbed his bags, and paid the driver before turning around and facing the entrance of the hotel.
The entrace of the Lann Regency was just as lavish as most everything was at Casterly. It was fronted by a giant fountain with the bottom filled with golden coins as part of the decoration, while the red tinted double glass doors were framed with a pair of pouncing lion statues made of gold of course.
Cars and shuttles and even limousines with flags came and went, with people, some in business suits, some in more casual travel ones, mostly went up looking to check in. Like Jon, most of the doctors opted to fly in a day or night earlier.
With one last look behind him, Jon started walking up.
"Here we go."
Day 1
After two of three sessions in the morning, they were given a fifteen minute coffee break. And breaks like these usually meant making the rounds on the different booths of the sponsors, set outside the plenary halls which included, for the majority, the different pharmaceutical and medical equipment companies, promoting and selling old and new products.
Jon was looking at one booth that sold surgical instruments from the brand he favored. While he was comparing the different pocket minor sets, Drogo came up behind him holding two black coffees.
Jon accepted one and thanked the hulking doctor with the long pony tail to match his long beard. "Thanks."
Drogo nodded. "Minor sets?" He looked at the table Jon was examining.
"Aye. Can't have enough of them," Jon half-smiled.
Drogo answered with a nod again, moving towards the drills and rods. Like Jon, he wasn't  much of a talker - well, a sober Drogo anyway. Jon almost smirked at the memory of Drogo slurring along last night and drunk calling Dany. Almost because he also remembered his wake up call this morning with Dany telling him off for not keeping Drogo in check.
He looked him over and was impressed that there was not a trace of drinking on him. "So, Dany woke me up this morning."
Drogo leaned back as he laughed boomingly, his ponytail almost knocking out a guy behind him. He slapped Jon's back a little too hard then that if it weren't for all those long hours in basic army training he had, he'd have flown across the room.
Jon glared at him but Drogo just shrugged at him sheepishly. "The moon of my life is a woman of many words."
Just then we heard a girly voice. "Jon! Drogo!"
The two of them turned around and saw a short young woman with olive skin, dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. Sarella. She grinned when she finally reached them. "Hi."
"Hi Sarella."
Drogo, again, just nodded but at least he was smiling.
"Rhaenys told me you two would be here. I was just talking to Tyrion when his bitchy aunt Genna cut me off and shooed me away," she grumbled.
Dr. Genna Lannister was another famous Lannister, and like all Lannisters who were doctors, her field was neurologic as well. She was a Pediatric Neurologist and like most Pedia Neuros, she was a cutthroat bitch.
"Where are they now?"
Sarella's eyes brightened then. "Oh! I saw them going to the Research presentations from the Neurosurgery residents in Hall B." She eyed me then. "You should come, Jon. I saw your cousin's poster presentation, and she's one of the presenters - also the highly favored to win at that."
Cousin?
She noticed my confusion and exchanged a glance at Drogo who just shrugged at her. "Your cousin, Jon? Sansa Stark?"
Sansa - Sansa Stark...
She sighed impatiently. "You know. Tall. Very Pretty. Blue eyes. Red hair."
Oh.
"Seven hells, right, right. Of course. She's on her," Jon paused and did a mental math, "Fifth year?" How could I forget?
Sarella threw her hands up. "Finally! Yes. Honestly Jon, and to think that Rhaenys told me you were more Stark than Targaryen. You forgot your own cousin."
Jon felt a little guilty then. But among his Stark cousins, he wasn't particularly close to Sansa even though she was the only one who joined the medical field among them. He knew her as the pretty one or the doctor one. Between her attending boarding school at Highgarden and training at Oldtown, they really didn't get to meet each other often enough. Just a couple of times and mostly never went beyond polite greetings. Frankly, Jon didn't know how to talk to her.
"Come on, lets show our support!" Sarella all but linked one arm each with Jon and Drogo.
Drogo looked amused as Sarella, petite as she was, was leading two broody men to the hall.
Sansa.
Jon tried to remember the last time he saw her. And then he felt even more guilty when he remembered it was roughly nine years ago. But to his credit, he practically lived in the hospital ever since he started his residency and he was sure it was the same for Sansa. Residency meant missing family occasions, social gatherings - everything that entailed you have a life, basically.
He knew that, he swore he did. He knew she was on a neurosurgery residency at the Citadel Hospital. If there was one thing he remembered at the top of his head, it was this one because her entering the program drew attention. First because everyone assumed that she was going to Plastics with her delicate almost invisible stitching skills or maybe even Dermatologic Surgery for her natural beauty and genius-level IQ. But no. She wanted Neurosurgery. The "top of the totem pole" in the surgical elite - Jon rolled his eyes muttering 'god complexes' - but also the specialty that was sexist, continuing to be the most male-dominated field. Robb, her brother though, cleared that up after he told Jon that she was doing it for their brother Bran who was crippled at an early age after a freak accident near The Wall.
Nine years though.
July 2003
Jon was practicing his knot tying when he heard a frustrated huff from the table next to his on his right.
He looked to his side and saw a girl with red hair tied in one long braid, who was also practicing her knot tying - her brows were drawn together in concentration as she started undoing the knot she made - a clear indication that she did it wrong because a good knot was one that held but could easily be undone with one strategic pull or cut.
He looked around and he wasn't surprised that there were no other people who are practicing. After the morning session, most were still out for lunch. They were in a two-day basic suturing workshop at Ashford.
After another sigh, Jon worked up the courage to walk up to the girl who, from the looks of it, was definitely younger than him, but somehow was oddly familiar though he couldn't place her. He was lucky that he already mastered knot tying last year when he was still a second year medical student. But that took many frustrating moments such as what she was experiencing now. He was only able to master it because he looked for someone to teach him better and figured maybe that's what she needed too.
"Um, excuse me," he tried to smile through his nerves.
She looked up at him then and Jon saw the bluest eyes he's ever seen, rendering him mute for a moment.
Seven hells, a pretty girl. What am I doing?
But the girl blinked and looked at him as if she was trying to place him too but she didn't say anything and that was when he remembered that she was probably waiting for him to proceed.
Jon rubbed the back of his neck nervously and tried to smile. "Hi. I'm sorry. I - I, uh, doyouneedhelp?"
Her cheeks colored as she looked down, biting her lip, muttering an embarrassed and slightly defiant, "I'm good. Thanks."
Jon was tempted to go back to his seat but something pushed at him to keep talking to her. Struggling for words, he looked down instead to her knot tying kit and guessed where she was having trouble. On the dummy was one perfect square knot. His guess would be she was having problems with tying the second knot.
"One hand or two?" Jon tried again.
She reddened some more and sighed before looking up at him and admitting in a small voice. "Both actually."
Jon smiled kindly then. "The second knot is always the hardest. Especially if you have two left hands," he tried to joke. Cursing himself right after for how corny it was but her reaction encouraged him to continue.
A corner of her lips turned up and her eyes were warmer, never mind that there was a raised brow at that. "You know how to do it then?"
Jon nodded. "I know how to do it...I can teach you, if you want."
She smiled at him more genuinely then and motioned for the seat beside her.
Jon took his own set and placed it beside hers. "Okay, I'll show you how to do it first and then we'll do it together, sounds good?"
She nodded. "Sounds good."
"We'll start with one hand," he said as he started on tying the first knot. "Now for the second," he made the mistake of looking at her to see if she was watching and saw that indeed she was. She was watching alright, and watching very very closely, he could feel her breath on him.
Her eyes met his then and she frowned. "Why'd you stop? Go on."
Jon's neck turned pink and he swallowed before showing her how to do the second knot. "See? The trick is to know the position of the thumb. Wanna try it now?"
She nodded and quickly went to her own kit, while waiting for Jon to undo the knots. Step by step, Jon taught her while she mirrored perfectly on her own and after a couple of doing it on her own she beamed up at Jon.
"See? It wasn't that hard," Jon laughed nervously but felt some pride that he made her smile happily. She was a quick study, this student of his. He was right in thinking she just needed better instructions and to be honest - the instructions for this workshop was too complicated.
"Thank you," She grinned at him.
He blushed. "You're welcome. It's Jon by the way."
Her smile fell a little and Jon panicked.
She eyed him curiously before breaking into a smirk. "You don't remember me at all, do you? I mean, we met just once before but still."
Jon's eyes bulged and he wracked his brain but came up blank. He was sure he'd remember someone as beautiful as her.
She giggled then and arched a brow. "I'll give you a clue since you were kind enough to help me. My name is Sansa. Sansa...Stark." She grinned and Jon cursed.
"Fuck. Of course! Seven hells, you're one of Robb's little sisters." Red hair. Blue eyes. She could pass as Robb's twin and she looked like Aunt Catelyn. Was this really the prissy little girl in pigtails?
She giggled again. "Took you long enough. But to be fair to you, we never really 'met' met, did we?"
He smiled sheepishly. "I guess not, but still, I should've known. I'm sorry."
She chuckled. "It's okay. Between boarding school and starting right away at Citadel, I wasn't home much, more so with my parent's functions." She shrugged. "We're not allowed to have lives, remember?" She winked conspiratorially.
He laughed back and nodded. "We don't have lives so we can save yours, and all."
She blinked at him then and grinned. "I want that tattooed on my body!"
"Sorry, but I already got you beat on that," he winked.
She pouted.
"I'm kidding," Jon grinned.
"Then we'll get a matching set when we both pass the MLE. Do you promise?" She held up her pinky.
"That means I'd have to wait - When do you start med anyway?"
"I'll be a freshman come September,"  she said proudly.
His forehead crinkled. "Aren't you in college still?"
"I skipped two grades and I went for the straight program, just like you," she said smugly.
"Oh! So you're the Know-it-all-Stark!"
She smacked him then. "That's Bran but I'm pretty smart too."
He rubbed his arm. "Right. Sorry. First year huh? Isn't it too early to learn suturing?"
She raised a brow again and her smile fell. "Too early?"
Great, I insulted her. "I didn't mean it that way, I meant, I - they teach you that on your second year."
That seemed to placate her. "You're studying in Storm's End, right? So you're...a third year?"
"Incoming," I nodded.
"Any sage advice then?" she leaned closer.
Jon thought for a moment before answering with a smile. "Take as many vacations as you can. Better yet, don't waste anymore of this summer. After tomorrow, fly off somewhere - anywhere. Start medschool when you start medschool. Either way, no matter how hard you prepare, at the beginning, you know nothing."
Her forehead puckered. "Really?"
Jon regarded her, and remembered being as excited as she was when he was finally going to medschool but quickly got a dose of cold water over how very unglamorous it was. It was a sleep when you're dead situation every day. "Well...not to ruin your excitement and all but... I mean, I love it despite how hard it is but... I just - I would've appreciated it if someone told me how hard it really is, you know? Not put it up in a pedestal and such. Everywhere there is a hierarchy even in the smallest way. Fuck - I'm sorry. Don't listen to me, I'm just rambling," he tried to backpedal when he saw the light in her eyes dimming.
He stopped when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up and Sansa was smiling at him warmly. "It's okay...Jon. I kind of get what you're saying. I mean, I had an idea it's going to be tough but I had no idea it's like that. I mean, I was only worried about lack of sleep and missing out on family occasions but that's not all I'm in for, is it?"
He examined her. "You want the whole truth?"
She looked at him pleadingly and felt a squeeze on his arm - a reminder that she hadn't taken off her hand from him then. "Please. I...I'm not exactly from a family of doctors. Well...you're my only hope as my only medical relative, it falls to you then."
Shit. Right. Both of us would be the first Stark to be doctors. Well, more her than me anyway. "Okay. Why don't we get lunch first?"
She started beaming at him then. "Sounds great - so you know all these stuff already?"
Jon nodded uneasily. "Uh, somewhat. I want to be a surgeon."
"Yay! That means you are the best teacher! I want to be a surgeon too. Teach me when I get stuck again?" She asked looking up at him hopefully.
"I'll do my best," Jon agreed. As if anyone can say no to that look. Was this what Robb was telling me about? Bambi eyes? Or was that his youngest brother?
Once she was comfortable enough, Sansa talked Jon's ear off halfway through their lunch at a nearby diner they went to and he did his best to keep up and true to his promise, gave her all the tips he could think of to help Sansa adjust once she starts formal medschool while Sansa soaked it all up and asked many questions and hung on to his every word.
Jon thought her smart and witty, a fast learner, and of course, stubborn like the rest of the Starks, but she was also very passionate.
As he watched her wave goodbye at him before driving off the following day, Jon thought that Sansa would be fine.
As long as she holds on to that passion, she'll be a great doctor.
Jon blinked back at the memory of that one summer he got to know Sansa a little bit and wondered why that was the last they saw each other in person. Well, last that they actually interacted face to face anyway.
Sure he got the occasional messages - mostly her asking him about some subjects and topics and yes, he'd check in on her - he was, after all, her only relative in the field and he took that role seriously, well at first.
At first because, their medical lives really did get in the way. He couldn't check on her as much as he could - he could barely even take care of himself!
And he really believed that she was doing more than well and would only need him on her first year tops and barely even. At most, they'd message each other on holidays and occasions, asking if one was as stuck as the other - wishing each other a happy hospital/school holiday. But that stopped too by Sansa's third year - Jon's internship year. And from then on, nothing from both ends.
Robb always talked about her proudly, especially Uncle Ned. I only heard good things about her, surely she was doing fine - more than fine. I heard she graduated from Citadel at the top of her class and she did get into their Neurosurgery program - one of the toughest to get into.
Surely, she'd still be the bright-eyed go-getter girl she met that summer right?
Jon couldn't be any more wrong.
The Sansa that he saw was no longer the slow to warm, shy at first girl with her long red braids, curious blue eyes, and always with a ready smile girl he met that summer - filled with dreams and brimming with excitement for starting those dreams.
The first thing that he noticed was the hair.
Her long wavy hair that curled at the ends and shone with the prettiest shade of red he's ever seen (yes even better than Ygritte's and gods knew how much he liked hers too) was now cut so short, the back looked cropped - shaved even and though the tips still curled, they barely went past her ears.
Jon couldn't understand why but seeing Sansa's hair like that really took him back. But he shook that off and tried to see - hoped to see if that was the only thing that she'd have to change. But it wasn't.
Her hair only made her features sharper, her high cheek bones were more pronounced, and higher - her eyes - her eyes that were so warm and honest before, looked impassive, cold and firm just like the rest of her.
She was sitting with all the poise of a queen with ankles tucked into each other at the side instead of legs crossed, and her hands were primly set on top of her lap while she kept her chin slightly lifted as she watched the current presenter silently.
The only sign of hope for the girl he met was that underneath her long white coat - a requirement for some residents to wear to presentations like these so they could show their hospital logos - she was wearing a dress the same color as her eyes.
"Wow, Jon. Your cousin is gorgeous!" Sarella elbowed me. "But... oh her hair! She had such beautiful long hair then but she can pull this  pixie cut too."
Jon nodded dumbly, unable to tear his eyes off of her. She was still beautiful. Even more to be honest. She'd be bald and still be beautiful. And Sarella noticed the change because she was three years Sansa's senior in Citadel U where she went too before going back to Dorne for her residency, he briefly remembered.
"Tough. She looks like she's ready to fight," Drogo added. "Fierce eyes."
I couldn't agree more. Jon nodded again. There was a toughness in her that screamed intimidation despite the cool and calm exterior.
And when she stood to take her turn at the stage, Jon started to understand quickly how the change came about.
A hush went over the crowd as she was introduced and remained while she walked towards the podium. She walked - no - almost floated so gracefully yet there was a confidence in her Jon hadn't seen before.
It was there that he heard the voices - all from guys while the moderator continued listing off Sansa's credentials.
"Oh she's up."
"Yes. The Ice Princess is next."
"More like frigid snob."
Jon's brow ticked and he was about to turn around and beat up whoever the voices belonged to when he felt a hand gripping his arm and saw Sarella shaking her head then giving the same look to Drogo whose jaw was clenched so tightly.
"I don't care how smart she is. I still don't think she's a good fit for the program," continued the airy voice. "There's only so far book-smart can get you. I mean, sure, she has skills yes, but if one has to work double time - give that much effort to do the job then maybe that extra effort would be better off in a...less critical field."
"He's only saying that because she was praised and he was scolded on one of Dr. Jaime Lannister's ORs they were both assisting in," the other voice pointed out.
A snort, probably from the arrogant one. "Please. Everyone knows he's only being sweet on her to get access to that ass."
Jon's jaw clenched while Sarella held back a disgusted sniff and Drogo was starting to get scarily silent more than usual.
"And now, he's just saying that because he tried and failed in tapping that ass too."
The assholes chuckled.
"I'm just saying that a woman is not cut out to belong in Neurosurgery."
"Shhhhhh!" Jon craned his neck at the direction of the angry shushing and saw a tall bearded guy with long red hair glaring at them. "Will you cunts shut up? We all came to listen to her not to you pricks gossiping like hens with cocks." A Northern accent. Jon smiled. Northern loyalty right there. He then glanced Jon's way and noted their tight expressions and glared back at the rude men. "Shut up, listen, and clap for your co-resident or get the fook out. Fooking cunts."
Who are you and can we shake your hand or give you a medal? Wait. Co-residents?
Jon looked behind then and saw that the seats two rows behind them were occupied by residents - Citadel Hospital Neurosurgery embroidered with the lighthouse logo on their coats. That only served to tick him off more.
Sansa was presenting for them! I mean, I knew neurosurgery was competitive as fuck but with each other and at home base at least! Not in fucking contests like these. Jon bristled.
Thanks to the redhead, they finally shut up and remained that way like good residents did when reprimanded by an attending and great timing too because Sansa was just about to start on her presentation. Still Jon couldn't get over it.
"Stop it," Sarella hissed. "It's just the jealousy talking - that and being threatened by a woman nonetheless," Sarella hissed in his ear. "Sexist pigs."
"Fine." Jon focused instead on the girl he thought to have a crush on that two-day summer they had and saw the woman she'd become the more he watched her speak.
"Good morning doctors. I'm here to present to you my research entitled: Invasive versus Non-invasive approach to treating CPSP or Central Post-stroke Pain, a Meta-analytic review..."
Jon couldn't believe the transformation. Sansa exuded a quiet confidence that was the right amount of pride and grace. Her presentation was clear, to the point, and though there were many technical stuff she discussed that he wasn't familiar with, she was able to present it in a way that anyone, no matter what specialty, could get unlike the first who didn't care about the audience as he kept dropping flashy jargons simply said to impress. Sansa didn't need any embellishments. Her topic alone was attention worthy. Neuropathic pain or nerve pain was the hardest pain to treat.
And this was also where Jon saw some of the old Sansa he met. When he realized that Sansa didn't just present a case to win, she was presenting a topic that she resonated with and something she wants to both educate and call more attention from for its importance and impact not just for her colleagues, but across the different specialties. It was the sincerity in her voice and the thorough research she put in that would win this for her and true enough, at the end of this event, she did.
As she received her certificate and the ten thousand dragon check for her department's choice of charity foundation, all three of them stood up and applauded her first before everyone else joined in.
Her eyes found Jon then and she grinned briefly before settling into a simpler and humbler close lipped smile.
She was still in there. Jon grinned in relief. They haven't transformed her truly yet.
He looked back to gloat at her less than supportive co-residents who were clapping either half-heartedly or just simply politely. Well, at least, half of them. Some were clapping more enthusiastically with actual pride in their eyes. There was hope for them too.
"She won. As if there was anyone else," Sarella said loudly while she nudged at me.
Jon puffed out his chest and agreed loudly too. "It was hardly a competition."
Drogo grinned wickedly directly at the residents.
"Now you see, you fooking greenboys. That's how it's done," came the redhead.
Drogo called him over and they grabbed each other's hands and pulled themselves together for the manliest hug Jon's ever seen. Somehow I'm not that surprised that they know each other.
"Drogo, you shite, how've you been? Heard you got yourself whipped by a woman," the redhead bellowed before taking note of Sarella. "So are you the woman who finally whipped the Khal's giant horse arse?"
Sarella only laughed and shook her head. "That's my aunt you're talking about and she does hold the whip for this one," she poked Drogo who didn't look one bit ashamed as he shrugged. Sarella offered her hand then. "Sarella Martell, by the way. Anes and Tox for Dorne." He shook her hand and introduced himself. "Tormund Giantsbane - don't ask. Trauma surg in Eastwatch Veterans." He leaned down then and whispered loudly while looking at Drogo. "And I'll only believe he's whipped when I see it," he winked, making her laugh and Drogo roll his eyes.
He then looked at Jon and offered his hand to him too. Jon took it and gave Tormund a firm shake. "Jon Snow. Trauma too, no affiliations yet."
"Ah. Fresh off the boards? Wanna consider taking it up North?"
Jon was about to say that he was in fact, looking to work in the Northern peninsula where he could be far away from being the political son in King's Landing - also, the same reasoning for changing his last name, when Sarella interrupted.
"He's also the cousin of the presenter you defended," she piped up.
Tormund grumbled then. "Couldn't let them get away with that. Where I'm from, women and men don't matter. As long as you can do the job, then by all  means, do it. Besides, Northerners stick together and I wasn't about to let them badmouth a fellow redhead." He then punched Drogo and Jon. "Just as we bearded men need to stick together."
Jon  winced a bit as Tormund belly laughed while Drogo raised his brows and crossed his arms before he looked at me. "Shouldn't you go to her?"
He reddened. "I - yes. Of course."
Sarella flashed a knowing smile at Jon that Tormund caught. "Why don't you go on ahead?" she suggested.
"Yeah, go try and steal her away from the horde," he grinned wickedly for someone Jon just met. "Little miss here needs to show me a picture of the woman whose got Drogo's balls in her hand."
Sarella's eyes lit up. "Ooh wait!"
Drogo gave Jon a knowing smirk before he whipped out his phone and showed Tormund pictures of Rhaego, his and Dany's two-year old son. "This is the Stallion that will mount the world," he said proudly.
"Good pecker on that one. Nice job, for Khal Drogo," Tormund looked up at Drogo impressed.
Shit, I didn't even ask about Rhaego and he's a cousin too. Wait - cousin. Right.
Jon scanned the hall and found her talking to his great-uncle Aemon who was a Neuropsychiatrist.
He gathered his courage and started walking over to them. It was his uncle who saw him first. "Ah, Sansa, have you met with my great-nephew, and if memory serves me correctly, your cousin?"
She turned around then and gave Jon a bright but shy smile. She's even prettier up close. "Jon," she said, his name a soft whisper on her lips.
Jon chuckled nervously. "Sansa, hey." Should I go for a hug? Wait, we haven't done that before, have we?
Sansa stepped closer but hesitated like Jon did before she finally went in for a brief hug. She smells great. Jon's first thought before remembering to hug her back. They pulled away quickly, looking at each other awkwardly with Sansa tucking her hair behind her ear twice and Jon rubbing at his neck.
Man up, Jon. "Congratulations, Sansa. You were great up there."
She smiled shyly. "Thank you Jon."
He cleared his throat. "You look great. I mean, how are you?" He cursed inwardly.
Sansa's corner lip quirked but she didn't call him out. "Thanks and oh you know. Alive and surviving," she lifted a shoulder yet Jon caught something briefly in her eyes but before he could say anything, she shifted the topic to him. "I however am unforgivably late with my congratulations. I saw you in the top ten for your specialty boards. Congratulations, Jon." She reached up and gave Jon a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away and giving an apologetic smile.  "Forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive," he immediately answered.
She pouted. "Well, forgive me for not keeping contact since - it's been too long and I've been rude."
He shook his head. "It's okay, for that I'm equally to blame. But how are you - really? You're almost at the finish line."
She blinked then and tried to give a too bright smile. "It won't be long now, yes."
We heard a cough behind us and to Jon's horror he forgot his great-uncle was still there and Sansa looked equally ashamed too. "So I take it you've met then."
"Of course. Jon helped me adjust for my first year in med school and he taught me how to stitch my first suture," she recovered quickly while Jon shifted uneasy with praise.
"I hardly helped. She would've done great with or without me," he shrugged.
Sansa was about to protest when we saw her co-residents approaching. Immediately, Sansa's demeanor shifted.
Her back stiffened and her face smoothened into her neutral mask.
There were five of them, all with closely cropped or completely shaven heads that was the signature of most neurosurgery residents across most programs - a sign of solidarity for their patients that they'd have to shave as part of the OR preparations as they say, but really it was just one more form of soft hazing. It didn't apply to female residents but Jon guessed Sansa parted with her long locks to prove a point. One of them was always flanked, moving ahead of their assembly like geese in the air - another show of hierarchy.
That one, had unfeeling violet eyes he trained at Sansa. "Congratulations, Dr. Stark," he managed but Jon couldn't see the sincerity and he also recognized that voice as being the arrogant one. Finally a face for the voice.
Sansa gave a nod and a small smile. "Thank you Dr. Dayne." Finally a name for the face.
She then turned to Jon and Dr. Aemon and introduced them. "Dr. Aemon, Jon, these are my seniors. This is Dr. Gerold Dayne, our chief resident," she motioned to the leader. "And this is Dr. Humfrey Hightower the deputy chief, Dr. Lyman Darry, and Dr. Horas Redwyne. Doctors, of course, you know Dr. Aemon. And this is Dr. Jon T-Jon Snow, Trauma Surgeon and my cousin." She almost slipped on Jon's name but it touched him all the same that even without communication, she was updated making him feel doubly guilty.
They of course, greeted Dr. Aemon readily and only politely regarded Jon who didn't really mind. Dr. Aemon excused himself and that was when Dr. Dayne started on Sansa.
"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything important, but I have need of you Dr. Stark," he raised a brow at her and Jon once again felt his brow twitching.
"Of course, Dr. Dayne," she nodded at him and shot me the subtlest apologetic look. "I - " she started.
Jon cut her off and smiled kindly. "Go. I'll see you around later or tomorrow. Sarella and Drogo said to say congratulations too but they're busy over there."
She looked where I pointed and for a moment Jon could see the look of longing in her eyes but was quickly gone when her seniors started leaving. With a final wave and a quick smile, she went and followed them. "Tell them thanks and I hope to see them too."  
"I will." There wasn't much Jon could do. It was an unfair world but Sansa had to follow an order from her senior.
Groveling, kissing ass, humiliation, unfair hours, and underpaid work - that was residency.
There were stages and there were steps in medical hierarchy. It gets better eventually on the way up but the way up is often dark and full of terrors.
There was nothing to do but just stick it out because like all ladders, eventually you get to the top.
Jon found Sansa later that night at the rooftop.
The rooftop of the Regency as converted to a VIP rooftop bar which was open for the delegates these two nights though they closed the bar at exactly midnight. By quarter, the staff would lead the guests down the VIP lounge instead where it was open all day and night citing that it was unseemly to catch guests falling asleep or getting drunk at the rooftop - safety reasons as well as snobbish pursuits. But guests may still stay as long as they are not inebriated and remain awake.
Drogo, Tormund, and Sarella went ahead while Jon chose to stay and enjoyed the quiet.
It was half past one and he was leaning on a rail, puffing on a cigarette while he watched the view of the still lit docks of Lannisport they could still see from this high up the Rock.
He thought he was alone when he saw a flash of red from the shadows.
He snuffed out his stick and threw it before walking over to investigate and almost jumped when he saw it was Sansa.
She had her back to him while she sat on top of her coat on the floor, still in her dress with her legs pressed together and tucked to the side, typing away on her laptop while she leaned against the wall.
"Sansa?"
She jumped - almost dropping her laptop but she failed in catching the glasses she was wearing when she surged forward. She recovered quickly while I crouched down, picked up her glasses that I've never seen her wear before, and handed it to her.
"Jon!"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm as surprised as you are," offering her glasses once more.
Even in the dark Jon could tell she was blushing. She took the glasses from him and wore it back but she didn't look up at him muttering an embarrassed thanks.
Jon thought she looked cute with her silver frames. He bet it made her eyes looked bigger, if only she'd look at him.
"Working late, I see," Jon said before sitting down next to her.
"Yes - but, oh Jon, you don't have to sit down. You'll get your pants dirty!" she frowned.
Jon chuckled. "Says the girl sitting on her white coat."
She pressed her palms to her forehead, dislodging her glasses a bit. "I know. It's gross but can I get a pass tonight?" she tried to say cheerfully but Jon could tell she was exhausted.
"Anytime. Why aren't you in your room?"
She frowned again. "My bosses are on the same floor and I need the peace and quiet or I'll never finish," she sighed.
"What floor is that?"
"45th."
"Mine is at the 50th. You're welcome to stay there."
Sansa gave him a wry smile. "At least buy me dinner first."
It was Jon's turn to flush not realizing how he sounded. "I didn't mean - I
Sansa waved him off and chuckled. "A joke, Jon. I am still capable of it."
Jon ran a hand down his face and shook his head. "You're mean and here I was doing a -
Sansa cut him off with a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry. Thanks for the offer Jon, but I'm good here. I'm actually just polishing the report I have to hand over bright and early today," she rolled her eyes.
"Sorry," Jon could only offer.
She shrugged. "S'not you're fault. It's whoever invented hierarchy," she shivered and that was when Jon noticed that she was just in a short sleeved dress that only came down to just a little below her knees. It was a little longer than what he usually saw women wear but it only made Sansa look even more lady-like which suited her just as well in Jon's opinion.  
He didn't ask just took off his coat and handed it to her wordlessly.
When she tried to protest, he raised his brow in challenge while she shivered again, causing her to bite her lip and accept it graciously.
While she shrugged it on, he walked over to the bar area and took a table cloth - the cleanest one and when he went back, he draped it over her legs before settling back beside her.
Sansa looked at him gratefully then. "Thanks Jon." She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze - like she did years ago. He smiled at her fondly then.
She dropped her smile. "You should head back and sleep."
"So should you."
She sighed. "I want to but I really need to finish this."
"Anything I can help with?"
"Do you know anything about deep nerve electrostimulation for sheep versus monkeys?"
"Uh..."
Sansa quirked her lip. "Thought so. Go on, seriously, I'll be okay. I promise I won't tell Robb you left me alone if that's what you're concerned with."
"Didn't think about him. Though that is a good reason to keep staying with you, threat of your brother and the whole Northern army," he grinned.
She sighed. "Fine, suit yourself. I might take another hour."
"Go ahead, take your time. I don't mind. it's nice up here. 60th floor and all."
"I won't be chatty until I finish," she warned.
"Shutting up now," Jon made a show of zipping his lips causing Sansa to laugh once before shaking her head and retrieving her laptop.
Jon tried not to watch her as she worked, briefly contemplating if he should get her something warm to drink since she was going to be stubborn about this.
Eventually after ten minutes, he excused himself to do just that, only earning a half-committed nod.
He came back up after fifteen minutes with two styrofoam cups filled with hot water and a takeaway bag filled with tea packets, condiments, and lemon bars (they were the only ones good to go) he bought from the lounge.
Sansa looked up at him surprised and adorable looking in his too-large coat and those damn glasses.
Jon sat beside her and pushed the bag of lemon bars at her while he took out the tea stuff. "Are you an Earl Grey or a Chamomile person?"
Sansa still looked at him stunned and possibly close to tears that Jon almost panicked. He didn't know a thing about comforting a woman in tears. He coughed and repeated his question.
Sansa looked down and played with the lid of the bag she was still holding, blushing. "E-earl Grey."
"Ear Grey it is," He started making her tea and was about to ask if she took it with sugar or honey when he saw her looking inside the bag with tears silently pouring down her face.
"S-Sansa what - "
Sansa quickly wiped her face but failed to stop the tears. She tried to smile wanly. "Sorry Jon...I don't know what came over me - it's just... it's lemon bars. I love lemon bars."
She started wiping at her face more furiously then looking annoyed at herself. "Ugh. Sorry. I'm okay, I promise. I just - I'm fine - this is stupid."
Jon understood what she's going through. She was tired, she was overworked and likely faced one form of humiliation today despite her win and now someone was being nice to her. He's been there too. Any kindness, no matter how small felt like water in a desert.
So he stopped what he was doing and crouched in front of her, gently taking her glasses off, setting them safely, then he took her hands in his before bringing her to his chest slowly, wordlessly just holding her still. Experience taught him that rubbing the back or stroking the hair only brought more hysterical tears - more less words.
Sansa stiffened at first until finally she relaxed and crumpled into his chest, just the touch of her cheek to his collar and nothing else.
This kind of crying, he knew well. It was the frustrated and tired one. It didn't need the sobbing or the hiccupping - that'll only tire you out more.
Sometimes, you just needed a good cry - just the right amount of silent tears to release some of the tension. Just enough to calm down.
After a solid five minutes, Sansa raised her head, wiped her eyes one last time and took a deep breath.
Jon released her slowly and gently but kept close in case she needed another minute. "Better?" he risked.
She smiled at him then and nodded. "Yes," she laughed nervously. "Thanks Jon. I needed that. Sorry I ruined your shirt."
Jon just shrugged. "A small sacrifice you can make up to me once you become rich and famous. My small contribution to your future success."
She laughed again, for real this time. "I'll add that to the list."
"You do that," Jon smiled. "So, ready to get back to work?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"Good," he reached out and placed her glasses on her. "So. Sugar? honey?"
Sansa blushed and Jon almost did too at her reaction but he managed a smirk. "For your tea."
"Oh. Just h-honey," he heard her utter a tiny fuck that he'll let slip now.
"Honey, it is," he teased while he added it to her tea.
"You're mean."
"Sorry. Tea for apology?" He handed her the cup.
"Thanks. Apology accepted. How'd you know about the lemon bars?"
"Honestly, they were the only ones I could get fast. A lucky move then," Jon admitted sheepishly.
"Well, according to the Alchemist, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you achieve it. It must be my lucky break," she grinned while taking a bite.
Or mine. Jon thought and was quickly embarrassed for even thinking it.
What followed was companionable silence as Sansa worked. Before Jon knew it, he had dozed off.
He woke an hour and a half after with a light shake from Sansa. For a moment he forgot where he was but then he quickly adjusted when he felt his back.
"Hey, sorry to wake you but I'm actually done," she was whispering and cradling her laptop, her coat was draped in one arm, while a hand stayed on hid shoulder and from this angle he was able to take her all in better.  
Jon just blinked, too caught up in her eyes that looked midnight blue in the dark.
She bit her lip and looked apologetic. "Sorry to wake you from what I saw was a peaceful sleep but you'd probably be more comfortable in your bed than here."
Jon snapped out of it and rubbed his eyes while he stood up. "You're right. Are you really done?"
She smiled and nodded. "Yup. All done and I even cleaned up too."
Jon frowned as he took in everything. "You didn't have to do that."
She rolled her eyes. "Too late. Come on, let's get back."
They started walking back when Sansa stopped for a moment.
"What is it?"
She blinked and smiled again. "Nothing. You go back ahead. I think...I want to look at the port for a little while. I'll follow and sleep, I promise."
Jon eyed her then before holding out his hand.
Sansa looked at it and then his eyes confused.
He changed and offered his arm instead. "Come on. Let's look at the view for a moment."
Likely knowing Jon won't give up, she just smiled wider and held on to his offered arm and followed when he lead her to the view he was looking at earlier.
After watching the water break against the rocks below Sansa wrapped her arms around Jon. "Thanks for tonight, Jon. It's been a while since I've been treated like a human being."
Jon returned her hug. "Sure. Though you won't be thanking me for the many times I wanted to punch your chief today."
She looked up at him then and frowned. "You heard him and the others say nasty things about me."
"Sexist pigs," he spat Sarella's earlier comment.
Sansa chuckled then. "They're just threatened by me."
"The seven hells they should. You're brilliant and tough. Drogo thinks so too."
She grinned. "Yeah?"
"Fierce eyes, I quote."
She grinned.
"It's tough and unfair, but I have faith in you," Jon tucked a strand of her short hair, feeling mad again that she had to cut it just to prove a point.
Sansa noticed but let it slip, closing her eyes instead at the feel of Jon's fingers. "I know. I'm pretty tough too."
Jon chuckled. "I know. I was almost afraid that they've transformed you for good."
She tilted her head then. "Almost?"
"For one, you're still wearing the most lady-like dress ever, and another was your passion resonating with your research presentation," he ended with a shrug.
Sansa shook her head. "The passion, yes. I do love it - every little thing about this even the times I want to kill myself or murder them instead because why should I die when they should instead moments."
"You would've covered that up easy."
"But the dress? Really Jon?"
"Uh, I figured that was another way to prove a point. That they may take away your hair and call you mean things just because you're a woman in their sick man's world they've built up, but you showed them that you can do their jobs better in a skirt and heels too," he said proudly. "That and the fact that you're two years their junior to boot."
"Wow."
"Well, wow to you first. And I'm really glad you didn't transform into a heartless gunner," he said lightly but his eyes were sincere.
"Well the summer before freshman year of med, an incoming junior taught me more than just sewing sutures and tying knots. He told me that entering the medical world was going to be tough and unfair that I must be tougher but fairer and it stuck to me all these years," she eyed Jon impishly.
Jon couldn't hide an embarrassed grin. "Wise friend."
"Mhm," Sansa nodded. "But really, the true lesson was that, he showed me what truly made a difference between a good doctor from the rest."
"And what's that?"
Sansa took his hand and and squeezed. "Kindness," she said so softly.
Jon just looked at her with his mouth open, clearly not expecting that.
Sansa started tugging at his hand. "I'm beat. Come on."
Jon shook his head, and followed, with his heart impossibly full, and a smile he couldn't wipe off from the compliment.
Kindness.
He does know some things after all.
Day 2
When Jon woke up he decided to take a risk and ask her out when the opportunity comes within the day.
He felt that something that summer years ago but thought it was more on her adoring her excitement and zest for medicine. He figured this time, he won't wait nine years to realize it and give it a go.
But unfortunately for him, the opportunity never came.
Jon didn't see her all day and he finally found out where she was from Sarella when he met up with her in the afternoon sessions.
"Sorry Jon. I saw her earlier and she told me that she had to fly back to Oldtown right away according to the shithead boss of hers. No wonder the Daynes all but cut him off the family. Her boyfriend picked her up though and they rode his family's private jet. But before she left, she asked to give this to you," she pushed a small box at Jon's hands before he could process what she was saying.
He broke it down.
One, Sansa was on a flight back to Oldtown.
Two, she was flying with her boyfriend on her boyfriend's family's jet. How did he miss that?
And lastly, there was something in his hand.
"I don't - boyfriend?"
Sarella's eyes narrowed before widening with realization. "Oh shit."
Jon looked to her for answers.
She took his arm and sat him down. "Okay, calm down. Relax."
He didn't.
She rolled her eyes and gave up. "Apparently, it's still new. He works at Citadel Hospital too. He's Dr. Willas Tyrell, one of the Radiologists. I called my dad after I recognized him when Sansa introduced us quickly." Oberyn Martell was also an Anesthesiologist as well as an Acupuncturist among other things and he was friends with Garlan Tyrell, Willas's older brother. Jon tried to absorb as Sarella explained. "Dad said that Garlan was happy that his younger brother was finally dating."
Jon's heart dropped. "Is he...is he decent?" He didn't bother to ask about looks because he knew the Tyrells were generally good looking.
Sarella smiled sadly. "He's smart, charming, handsome, well-mannered, and kind."
Kind.
Jon felt crushed.
"But it's all still new like it's only been a month and they hardly go out with her schedule. They're probably still getting to know each other - "
But all Jon heard was kind. If he was truly kind, then it won't take long at all.
I was nine years too late.
Jon stood up then and sighed, before mustering up a smile and thanking Sarella.
"Wait! Before you go broody, she did leave you something," she pointed to the box I was still clutching.
Jon opened it then and inside was a note and something wrapped in a golden tissue-like paper.
He read the note first.
Jon,
I can't thank you enough for more than tonight. I won't forget it just as I never forgot the kind guy who took pity on me when I couldn't tie my knots. You taught me more than that though, if you recall. You told me that the sign of a good knot was for
1) how it held firmly and
2) how it could be undone by just one strategic pull only the surgeon who made it knows as well as the teacher who taught it
I didn't tell you but I kept the tie I used and stole yours when you weren't looking ;)
Now I'm giving it back attached to something that would always remind me of your knot pulling last night. (I used two handed knot tying!)
Good luck with your next step Jon! Sorry I had to go again.
Until the next time we meet then (Under better circumstances I hope)
Sansa
Jon unwrapped the other gift and held it up.
He smiled when he saw a golden replica keychain of the hotel with the blue practice tie, knotted in a perfect surgical knot twice on the chain.
"See? There's hope still. They're not married yet," Sarella grinned.
Jon rolled his eyes and shushed her when Dr. Tyrion Lannister started talking.
"Okay. Last session for this course, I hope you are still awake and alive. I shall try to make this as short and as entertaining as I can. In short, all my visual aids will be anatomically perfect for everyone and I've spiked the next batch of coffee," he grinned. "Alright, I have your attention now? Well if not at least even before I speak my topic I already have your money in my pocket so we're all good here."
Laughter.
"Let me start with a favorite anecdote especially since I see a lot of residents from all over here with eyebags darker than the balls of an elephant and I could pick out the fresh board passers from the crowd easy as pie. Okay, are you ready?"
Ars longa,
vita brevis,
occasio praceps,
experimentum periculosum,
lucidum difficile
"Hippocrates, our father of Medicine said, 'The art is long, life is short, opportunity fleeting, experiment dangerous, and judgment difficult.'" He paused. "It's a tough challenge, we chose to pursue for a living. And it never ends for we keep on learning. It's hard, and more often than not, as much as we want to save lives, we want to kill our fellow doctors just as much too," he paused again but this time from the laughter that erupted from the crowd.
He raised his hand for silence before he continued. "But in the end, it's still the life we chose and thus we have no choice but to keep on living it for as long as we can. We have failures, we have triumphs, but most of all we keep on trying. But also remember, not to forget the third line. 'Occasio praceps.'
"Some opportunities come once in a lifetime. In the occasion that you miss it once, and it presents itself again, don't be a dumbass and grab it by the balls, tie it up, and never let go."
Jon swallowed and clutched the keychain in his pocket.
"Now then, I can begin."
As Dr. Tyrion went on his lecture, Jon was only half-listening.
As much as he wants Sansa happy and he truly does even if it's with someone else, he'll still hold on and hope.
They were still young.
They still had time.
"Art is long, after all," he muttered as he glanced down at the knot Sansa gave him.
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jjillekkot · 5 years
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Thanks for making my first two years great! Here’s to more!
Okay, yep! It’s a little early, but I have been raring to go and celebrate for about five moths now rip. And so even tho it’s not quite Feb 22 yet! I wanted to give this out early! A whole month plus one day early! I’ve been holding out on this a while now tho! So uhhh? Does that make it better? Anyway! Between the thank you list imma do! And Valentines that I’m also gonna send out to some! 👀 
Everyone who gets one of these gets that message cuz! But now onto you!  
Nina! 
Even if you haven’t been around for two years! That doesn’t make a dif! Cuz in the time you have been around my blog you’ve really made a difference and impacted me! And that’s who I wanna send these out to and really, personally thank! Everyone of course makes my time here special! Imma biased dumbass, but I do appreciate everyone who’s stuck around! But! You’ve make my experience something extra special! And for that I wanna say thank you! Even if you get fed up with me someday and decide to depart I’ll never forget how much fun I had RPing with you! Or what a cool person you are! Thank you so much for being a cool great friend! I really love your Yufs! And I love her’s and Lann’s broship! Aka the BROTP and thank you and Yufs for giving Lann a friendo who cares about him so much! He needs some love and I love them! And you! And thank you for loving my child also! And thank you for being there for me! And if you ever need me! I’ll be here! If you ever need a hand in some money or just a hug! I’ll do my best to help in anyway I can! I know I didn’t donate that much the time you needed it, but I want you to know! I’ll always be willing to chip in a little even if I also am a broke ass bitch! Cuz you deserve the world Nina! 
I know I’m a selfish dummy dumb! But thank you so much! For being there! And making me feel needed tbh! Cuz I mean yeah, lbrh, it’s all probs in my head, but Imma dummy dum and lots of the time I just feel like it wouldn’t matter if I left and no one would care tbh! But lots of the times I feel like that and feel like giving up, that no matter how much I love Lann and how much I pour my heart and soul into him, and write headcanons for him! And love him! I just think I’m really the only one who actually cares! And tbh! Imma be real I’ll never leave even if that is the case! Cuz I love Lann too much! But! I feel like a lot of those times! You’re there! Wether you know it or not! And I just wanna say thank you! For leaving a like on my ooc posts and headcanons sometimes! And for sending my asks! Some which I’ll take five-ever on or some I might get to sooner or some I may never answer lbrh! I still appreciate it all! Regardless of what my dumbass biased impulsive ends up doing! Thank you! I know I shouldn’t be selfish and want attention, but sometimes it’s hard tbh! When you feel no one actually cares, so I really wanna thank you! Cuz you’ve been there to prove me wrong so many times! And I truly thank you! 
And you’re just a great person and I hope life treats you and Yufs right!
And thank you once more for being there for me and Lann! <3 
Love Ya! 
-Windy
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