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kroashent · 9 months

Text

Return to the Tavern - A Familiar Tail

Marie deCygne set down her mug with a satisfied sigh, the sweet tastes of buckwheat and barley lingering from the last sip of the amber honey beer. Without the drink to occupy her. She glanced around the table. Morgiana, of course was nowhere to be seen, replacing any vice of drinking with some other mischief of her own creation, no doubt. Kathalia sat opposite, leaning her chair back on two legs, swirling the wooden bolee of cider, looking annoyed, but uncharacteristically pensive. She fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her leg and she continued to play with her drink.

Gwae, on the other hand, was almost buzzing with intense energy, her fingernails wrapping constantly on the table as she bit her lower lip, leaning so far forwards across the table that she was almost standing. Marie blinked at the unexpected position for the normally collected Gwae, following her gaze to see her icy-eyes locked on the red-headed sellsword opposite her. Then Marie noted the stack of three ceramic bowls piled in front of the silver-haired eladan, each having been recently filled with a drink called "Damona's Boon" according to Haizea and something considerably more bawdy according to her clientelle. The cocktail, a mix of sugar-sweetened cream, buckwheat whiskey and cherries, was popular among the Faerie peoples, enough that it was offered this deep in the Ar Goat. Marie personally found it a little too sweet for her liking, but Gwae, evidentially, shared no such qualm. Marie smiled a slight grin, and then stood, taking care not to bother the intense Sidhe as she moved to get another drink from the bar.

The bartender, it seemed, had stepped out, as no one was behind the bar as Marie approached. She peered casually over the edge, finding the space empty, and turned her attention to the large casks of beer and wine stacked in an alcove behind, the faded arms and labels of brewers and vineyards across Letha and beyond. She imagined Kathalia would have just reached over the surface and picked up a bottle of her choosing, but Marie waited, puzzling out each label on the casks and drifting in her own thoughts until a voice brought her back to the moment.

"What'll it be." The voice belonged to a woman with dark hair, dressed in a simple apron and dress. There was something off about the new bartender. Marie hadn't even seen her approach as she stood, patiently waiting. Marie blinked, caught off guard as she quickly pushed away her momentary unease and returned to the present.

"A... cidre please," Marie muttered, trying to remember what she had planned on ordering. Her head was swimming, a sensation similar to standing up to fast, as she leaned on the counter to support herself. "Brut."

"Coming right up!" The bartender replied, pouring the amber liquid into a wooden bolee. "So what brings you to Ker-Ahes, and to the Silver Wheel?"

"I'm a trouvere." Marie responded with a practiced flourish and bow, despite the muffled pounding in her head "Seeking out new songs and stories of the Ar Goat, and spreading those I know."

"Oh, a traveling bard!" The bartender clapped her hands together with glee. "Tell me, do you know 'Ballad of the Blood Moon?"

"It sounds... familiar..." Marie mumbled, a fog descending over her thoughts.

"So, you'll play it? Drinks on the house if you do!"

Marie nodded, picking up her lute and making her way to the edge of the bar. She exhaled, taking in the room. Everything seemed oddly placed, like a film was placed over the room. She strummed a note on her lute, almost feeling the vibration travel through the space, sending a ripple shw could almost see across the room.

"The fires burned in Fourtongue's halls, as winter's breath assailed stone walls holding back winter's chill, yet shadows gather round the hill. Whispers of the Black Dog's return, as cold winds blow and lanterns burn. Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Marie felt a prickling upon the back of her neck as she continued to play, scanning the tavern room as she strummed along. There seemed to be movement in the crowd, but Marie played on.

"Our walls are thick, our gates are strong, Black Dog may gather with his throng, but our swords are sharp, our arrows keen We'll drive him back into the green. Fourtongue raised his might ax, to show he feared no dog of black Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Marie's breath quickened as she played, the hair on the back of her neck bristling in an unseen breeze, growing thicker as the flames of the candles began to waver. Her fingers kept plucking the strings of her lute, even as black claws sprouted from them, growing thicker and sharper with each vibrating note. Kathalia jumped to her feet suddenly, Gwae following with hunter's reflex. By now, the crowd was worked up, joining in on the short refrain.

"A great wind blew in from the Black, courage growing weak and slack The fires snuffed, the chill rushed in, the hillside rang with awful din. The Prince, cast out, had come back home, spilling blood and cracking bone. Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Brown fur spread along the bards fingers as she played, teeth sharpening into glistening fangs as she smiled, continuning the song. The music sounded beautiful, more deep and melodic than she had experienced, each strum and pluck as clear as a winterrule sky. Her ears lengthened, stretching into points resembling her red-haired friends. As if on queue with the song, the laticed windows of the Silver Wheel tavern flew open, the freezing Black Winds rushing in, the candles fluttering wildly as Marie, heart racing and breath quick, sped up her pace, the muffling fog replaced by the clarity of a winter sky. Actual howls seemed to replace parts of the chorus as the crowd began to stand, bottles and chairs crashing to the floors as tables were suddenly overturned.

"The castle's gates of might oak, first they splintered, then they broke. With claw and fang, the Black Dog came, with snarling howl and b...burning flame... The bloody prince with Horned King's Boon, turned his sights upon the ... moon." Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Marie stumbled across the song, despite knowing the words and music by heart. A soft brown fur spread across her ears as they continued to lenghten, her fingers thickening as she played. She panted, her face begining to stretch into a fang filled snout as she sang, growls finding their way into the pauses of the bloody ballad. Something pressed against her pants, tearing at the seams to reveal thick brown fur. Claws ripped through her soft boots, revealing her pawlike feet, heels arching upwards as the tips of her black claws sharpened. Gwae had Kathalia against the walls as chairs and tables began to overturn, the glamour faltering. For a moment, Marie faltered as the crowd turned before her eyes. But she felt exhilarated. She could almost smell the blood of the Fourtongue and the burning of Pont-Ivi. A hunger and excitement rose within her, pushing her onwards.

"The moon became as red as blood, the trickle of death became a flood The gates, the gates, the Fourtongue cried, but the walls had broke, the archers died. With wind of black and moon of red, the son climbed the stairs for father's head...

Marie's muzzle reached its limit, giving the bard an unmistakeable canine visage. Her feet, ripped through her boots, were now paws, sharp claws scratching the floor. A tail finally burst out from its fabric prison. The lute dropped from lupine paws and Marie did not finish with the refrain, instead joining the chorus of howls filling the tavern.

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Val's Notes: I mentioned before that these particular drawings were drawn years ago, and for a few reasons, simply never saw the light of day. I wanted to share them with you all, but also turn them into something more, adding in a story to add a new creative flow rather than reposting the older work without additon, as well as rehabilitate my crippled drive to write.

I'll admit, this is probably my least favourite of the multi-part drawing series, but I really had fun with Marie actually doing bard things and transforming as she sings a relevant song. I may do another picture down the line that properly matches up with what is happening in the story.

I hope you enjoy Marie's song. Would people be interested in me creating a full version (With the singer less wolfy by the end of it)? I imagine there's more before and after the part Marie sings.

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Others in this set:

Gwae: https://www.deviantart.com/kathalia/art/Moonlight-Maidens-Return-to-the-Tavern-877714588

Kathalia and Gwae: https://www.tumblr.com/kroashent/723946985005170688/moonlight-maidens-return-to-the-tavern-by?source=share

Kathalia: https://www.tumblr.com/kroashent/724028159030345728/return-to-the-tavern-kathalias-brawl-i-did-say?source=share ----------------

If you're enjoying these pieced, please check out the full length Kroashent story, Kroashent: Bal Des Loups. I'd love to hear people's take on the story as I continue to work on it!

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If you would like to support my art help the world of Kroashent come to life, as well as receive other rewards like sneak-peaks, exclusive versions and sketches, please visit my Patreon page, with a wide array of tiers for all budgets: www.patreon.com/Kroashent Check out the full story of Kroashent: Bal des Loups, on Archive of Our Own or in this gallery: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3141606 Want to chat Kroashent or Val's art in general? Drop in on Kroashent on Discord: discord.gg/MZjc3Gg Learn more about the world of Kroashent on our official Wiki: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/alvez-kroashent

#kroashent #werewolf art #team werewolves #TF #Transformation #julycanthropy #Kroashent: Bal Des Loups #werewolf #Marie deCygne #Acrasia Beldam

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dishwater-blondie · 2 years

Note

I- A person asked how Gabriel punched Philippe and you just write a dam fic on its own for it. JEEZUS CHRIST- That was yet again an amazing mini essay. Please, you this question as a way to share anything you’ve wrote that makes you feel happy-

I take prompts VERY seriously. 😄 Thank you, anon.

I hope you don't mind, I'm going to take this opportunity to share an excerpt of an original piece I wrote a couple years ago. It's honestly pretty saccharine and full of itself 😅 But I still really like it.

You are different, and you seem to know it. That flicker of caution in your half-lidded gaze, the rigidity of your shoulders as you walk among the shelves, that smile, that thrill when you listen to a soul laugh. Happy, you think, or hysterical. It matters not. They’re alive. You came looking for someone. You came looking for me.

Hello.

We have all been sitting, waiting, growing older and lonelier, but never weary. Our bodies wearied when we had bodies, and the minds of those who had not died young. I don’t remember how old I was when I died. It might be easier to believe I had burned into existence a sphere of light, but your eyes now have turned on me, and I see in them the sadness of wondering. Who are you? ask your eyes, but I will never tell you. I will never know.

But I know you. Had I the urge, had I anything but perpetual indifference for the sake of facing eternity, I could have known the hearts of everybody who has passed by my jar. I could have known the woman who had come before you, who had bent at the waist to read my label only to find “Unknown Soul” scribbled in ballpoint pen. But she drifted away, and I had no reason to look deeper than the light pink soul that stirred within her, the soul that will one day be freed from its vessel as her lungs cease to breathe. When they do, that soul will forget what it had left behind. Without the limits of the human mind, a soul can see everything, everything but itself.

And I can see you so clearly now, see how gravity roots you to the earth, commands your feet to drop into the grass with every step you take to and fro, crush, flatten, mangle each blade under your shoe. I can see the flutter of the raven curls dangling out from under the hood you had pulled to tightly frame your affected countenance, how a single lock brushes against your jawline. A gentle breeze must have slipped through the flaps in the tent. You pay no mind. The wind is nothing to you. The grass even less. You must not even feel the weight of the smile twitching into place on your lips.

You glance again at me, and your round dark eyes carry the years of your life within them, and the years yet to come, all the lights and the shadows and the clouds that will cross their surfaces of liquid jasper flashed in a single moment. Life, pain, and death, the burdens of beauties of being you. I’m Haizea, you tell me, but I already know. Meanwhile, there is no introduction I can give you in return.

It is because all the world is not as much a burden to bear as one’s own name.

#my asks #my writing

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