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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Day 7: Free Day!

@sweetalnazar

Featuring Lyra Nguyen and Asra Alnazar; Canon Timeline

(Established Relationship)

CW: Some suggestive scenes, but it’s not explicit.

Four to five years later . . .

After everything is finally put into place, the would-be newlyweds are taken out of their respective dressing rooms. Their families watched as the couple were brought close together, just a few feet apart. Their hands are firmly planted over their own faces; Asra shifts his weight from one foot to another as Lyra bounces on the balls of her feet.

“CAN WE PLEASE LOOK AT EACH OTHER NOW?!” Lyra demands, voice muffled from behind her palms.

There’s warm laughter all around, especially as Lyra’s bouncing soon becomes her impatiently stamping her feet.

“You may!” Nadia replies with a radiant smile.

Together, Asra and Lyra countdown from three. At one, Portia passes Lyra’s glasses over to her, quickly getting out of the bride’s line of sight as Lyra places them over her eyes. In turn, her partner draws his hands together, palm to palm. He slides them down the front of his face, just stopping before his fingertips touch the end of his nose.

They lock eyes. Asra looks like someone who's had the air pulled from his chest, as if he can't remember to breathe. Lyra’s knees buckle under her, arms flailing as she catches herself before hitting the ground.

“Oh look at you!” Lyra exclaims, immediately springing up onto her feet. She pulls Asra into a delighted hug, promptly swinging him around in a circle. The skirts of their dresses billow out from the motion, their peals of laughter echoing in the Palace’s halls.

Before Lyra can get too dizzy and drop her spouse-to-be, she manages to stop. She sets Asra back down, swaying a bit. Before Lyra can fall over for real, Asra catches her, pulling her upright.

They can’t stay in the Palace for long: the ceremony is taking place at The Shop!

Nadia and Portia usher the pair into a carriage outside. In turn, the rest of the attendees get into similar transportation.

O*O*O

Praetor Vlastomil is running a bit late. This isn’t a bad thing, for it gives everyone a chance to catch up. Aisha and Salim are trading stories with Bảo, Walterine and James; Neha is chatting with Portia, with the latter helping Neha adjust the flowers in her hair.

“I’m sorry that the Praetor continues to be unreliable,” Nadia murmurs. She’s with Asra and Lyra, the three of them just a ways away from everyone else.

“He at least had the mind to let us know he was running late,” Lyra replies. Her veil is over her face, shielding her from passersby that shout their congratulations every so often. Her eyes are drawn to Asra. He’s drawn her veil over his face, resting the side of his head against her shoulder. His eyes are closed, the picture of sleep.

“I’m envious that he can fall asleep so easily,” Lyra murmurs.

Nadia chuckles. “Depending on how it goes tonight for the both of you, you’ll probably be able to fall asleep easily enough.”

Lyra blushes, averting her gaze. Her abrupt movement makes the edge of her veil tickle over Asra’s nose, making him sneeze and waking him up.

“Mm?” he mumbles, rubbing his nose with his knuckles.

“Sorry my love.” Lyra adjusts her veil as he shifts out from under it. “How was your sleep?”

“Decent,” Asra yawns, sitting up to stretch. “Any sign of the Praetor?”

“Well—”

Worm! Faust declares.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lyra looks down to the flower basket between her and her partner’s feet.

Their familiars are waiting patiently for their time to shine. Faust was curled up in the basket of flowers. The basket itself was etched with some glyphs. Once the magic in them was activated, the basket would float. This would allow Faust to grab flowers—and their petals—with her mouth. The morph gets to fling them wherever she pleases.

Nook, Lyra’s book-shaped mimic of a familiar, is their ring bearer for the occasion. He’s in charge of a tinier basket. Nook would need to keep the longer handle of said basket between his teeth to keep pace with Faust’s floating one.

Inside the tiny basket were two paper flowers, one set in a corsage-like arrangement while the other is attached to a hairpin. Lyra had painstakingly assembled them while Asra painted them. The corsage had the red lotus, and the pin was adorned by the purple flower of the belladonna.

Respectively, they’re Lyra and Asra’s favorite flowers. Tucked safely in the center of each flower is their partner’s ring. When the time comes, the lotus corsage would be wrapped over Lyra’s wrist, and the belladonna neatly pinned behind Asra’s ear. Afterward, the rings would go to the appropriate finger of their partner’s hand.

In the meantime however, the newlyweds-to-be watch Faust slowly raise herself from her little bed of flowers, repeating, Worm!

Lyra and Asra look at each other, confused.

Nook’s eyes snap open. His four sea green eyes shift toward the right. Nook raises himself onto his tarantula-esque feet, baring his sharp teeth as he growls.

“Nook, what’s the matter?” Lyra squeaks, startled by the sudden menace overcoming her familiar.

Nadia looks toward the direction of Nook’s line of sight, immediately getting to her feet.

“Oh no.” The disgust in the Countess’s voice is palatable. Asra and Lyra blink at her, bewildered, until they see what she means.

The Praetor had brought one of his worms with him.

O*O*O

A temporary, ramshackle pen is made off to the side of The Shop in order to contain Wriggler. The servants that came with Vlastomil are very, very apologetic in expression to the more unimpressed members of the wedding party.

“Do you suppose it’s going to hold?” Salim murmurs to James, eyeing the creaky posts that were slapdashed together.

“Gods willin’ an’ we don’t have to deal wit’ anyone gettin’ bit or The Shop getting destroyed,” the latter replies in kind, their gazes drifting to their respective spouses.

Aisha is taking all of it in, bemused. Walterine and Bảo, on the other hand, are fuming beside the Countess. Nadia is giving a quiet but adamant final warning to the Praetor that if Wriggler ever shows up to another one of these ceremonial obligations again, she’d have Vlastomil replaced post-haste.

As all that is going on, Asra, Neha, Portia, and Lyra are all staring at the gigantic worm—with teeth!—in awe.

Lyra supports Nook with one forearm under him, having his backside pressed against the front of her dress. With her free hand, Lyra has it gently clasped over Nook’s mouth. That doesn’t stop Nook from growling at Wriggler, but the precaution is there. Asra holds the basket Faust is coiled up in, the latter peering nervously over the rim of it at Wriggler.

“She’s gotten bigger since the last time I saw her—” Asra laughs as the three around him stare in abject horror.

“That worm can get bigger?!” Neha whispers loudly, incredulous.

At this point, all Lyra can do is shrug. Before anyone can say anything else, Praetor Vlastomil calls for Asra, Lyra, and their immediate families to come and step to the spots they’re going to be at.

“I don’t have all day! I have my precious Wriggler and the rest of my worms to attend to!”

“Are you ready?” Lyra asks, looking at the familiar in her arms. Nook blinks at her, his mouth curling into a grin. “Alright. Get the basket and we’ll take our places. No trying to bite Wriggler, okay?”

On it! Nook replies. Once Lyra sets him down, Nook rushes to get his basket. Some onlookers jump out of the way as he zooms past them, making Lyra laugh.

Asra waves his hands over the glyphs on Faust’s basket, murmuring the words to activate them. As Faust is lifted by the magic basket, a loud WHEE! echoing in their heads.

Lyra stands beside Asra, offering her arm out for him to hold. Asra graciously loops his arm with hers. Their expressions are mirroring each other: just a little shy, but full of adoration for their partner.

“Ready when you are, Faust!” Neha calls from off the side of the Praetor.

When Nook finally takes his place beside the morph, she commands the basket:

Forward!

O*O*O

“ . . . and by the power vested in me by the city-state of Vesuvia, I pronounce you married.” Vlastomil barely gets the words you may now—with a disgusted scoff—kiss your partner, before Asra and Lyra grab at each other.

With her veil no longer separating her lips from her spouse's own, Lyra dips him into a deep kiss. As Asra goes completely slack in her arms, Lyra wraps her arms securely around him.

Cheers and applause from their friends, loved ones, neighbors, and onlookers alike echo into the neighborhood. Bells are shaken wildly and horns are blown. Confetti and rice are thrown into the air, scattering about the ground and carried away by the wind.

She’s the one that pulls back from the kiss first. Upon seeing her partner’s face, Lyra can’t help but laugh. Asra has the most blissful expression, and she’s sure that he’s floating.

She attempts to right Asra onto his feet, but he is, indeed literally, floating off of the ground.

“Do I need to hang onto you?” Lyra asks.

“Just for a short while,” Asra replies breathlessly, eyes soft and adoring. Lyra chuckles. She acts as his anchor, having an arm wrapped behind his waist and a hand clasped with his. They turn to look on at their friends and family, now being greeted as a newly wedded couple.

O*O*O

After Wriggler and the Praetor are gone, the festivities go into full swing. Asra’s feet eventually return to the ground, but he’s still on the high of being married to the love of his life.

Nadia has to leave to return to her duties as Countess, but she wishes them well.

“Say hi to Julian for us!” Lyra bids her.

“I’ll extend your regards!” With that, a carriage whisks the Countess away.

In the meantime, the pair grab plates of food for each other, ducking past the threshold of The Shop and seeing all the tables set around so their guests could sit, eat, and mingle. Their place of honor is where the glass case counter used to be. It’s pushed back against the shelving, which is boarded up to prevent any inventory from falling out and onto the floor.

It couldn’t have gone any better.

O*O*O

As the day passes into evening, and well into the night, the guests begin to file out of The Shop. Asra and Lyra’s parents and parental figures help them to clean up the mess. James, Bảo, Salim and Walterine get the glass counter back to where it was, with Neha and Lyra quickly sweeping the floor beforehand.

Nook gets to eat whatever scraps he finds. He’s currently hidden in a corner, eating his fill as Faust snoozes in her basket.

As the table runner is placed over the display case, Walt says with a grin, “And that’s it!”

“Oh thank goodness—” Lyra leans against the top of it, slumping over from exhaustion. Asra gently pats her shoulder, garnering a few laughs.

“Before we go, Habibi,” Aisha says, coming forward, “I’d like to say a blessing.”

Lyra immediately straightens up, looking to Asra for guidance. He holds her hand, giving her a reassuring nod.

Aisha stands before the two of them. She first speaks in Zadithi, and then says in Vesuvian, “May Allah grant you blessings, send blessings upon you, and bring you together in goodness.”

“Oh, Mom—!” Asra hugs her, and Lyra follows suit. She looks ready to cry, as well as everyone else in the room.

Lyra’s eyes drift to her uncle Bảo. He’s very, very nervous.

“Bảo? What’s on your mind?” Lyra asks.

“I, uh . . .” he rubs the side of his neck, looking sheepish. “I hope this not redundant—”

With some additional encouragement from his own spouses, Bảo steps forward. “I-I have a blessing of my own. You won’t know or remember it, but I hope it mean a lot all the same.”

Bảo clears his throat, saying, “Chúc hai bạn hạnh phúc trọn đời. It means to ‘wish you both a lifetime of happiness’.”

He is not prepared for when Lyra and Asra rush him with hugs. Bảo and the others outright fall into laughter as the newlyweds lift him up in their shared embrace.

“You get pass today because it your wedding!” Bảo exclaims, legs kicking in the air until he’s set down. He’s still smiling all the same, tears brimming in his eyes.

They all join together for one final group hug. Asra and Lyra see them out the door, waving and saying their goodbyes. After making sure the front lamp is out, Lyra locks the door.

Asra hugs her from behind, nuzzling her nape. “Mm . . . you should wear backless things more often,” he teases, pressing a kiss to her exposed neck and shoulder. Lyra shivers, leaning back into his warmth.

“What, so you could decorate me with kisses there?”

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” Lyra can feel the mischievous glint in his eye, especially when he starts to mouth over her other shoulder. Before his teeth could graze over anymore of her skin, there’s a knock at the back door.

“It’s Muriel!” Lyra wiggles out of her spouse’s hold, laughing softly as a soft whine passes from his lips.

Upon opening the door, the two of them see that Muriel’s wrapped up in his massive cloak, his head and part of his face covered as usual. However, the collar and manacles he bore for so long are now a distant memory. None of them know exactly when Muriel’s gift of being forgotten stopped working, but it wasn’t long after the Alnazars and Aster-Nguyen families started getting more and more involved in and around his life.

“Hey Muri,” Lyra greets, smiling softly. “We saved some food for you and Inanna. Lemme grab the basket.” She ducks away to do that, allowing Asra and Muriel to catch up for a bit.

“Our parents were asking for you,” Asra murmurs.

“They know I don’t like crowds. Or people,” Muriel replies in kind.

“They know; Mom and Dad are still going to invite you for lunch or dinner at their place. It’s the same with Lyra’s parents too.”

“. . . they don’t have to.”

“They want to—”

“They want to!” Lyra echoes Asra, returning with the basket. She holds it out to Muriel with a smile “Here it is. We made some lemon squares for you too.”

Muriel sighs, exasperated. Still, he accepts the basket of food.

“We can’t thank you enough for the rings, Muri,” Asra says. He and Lyra hold up their hands, the wooden rings shining in the moonlight. “They fit perfectly.”

Muriel’s smile graces his face. Upon seeing their delighted smiles in turn, Muriel flushes. “It-it’s no big deal. Congratulations. Bye.” With that, Muriel trundles off into the darkness, heading back to the forest.

Lyra closes the door, shaking her head. “One of these days we’re gonna get him to come to dinner with us and our parents.”

“Give him time. He’ll come around.” Asra stretches, languidly leaning his front against his spouse.

Lyra chuckles, angling her body so that Asra can have his arms around her shoulders. She leans back against the wall behind her, shivering as the stone chills her exposed upper back.

“Mmm . . .” Asra tucks his face into the crook of her neck.

“You okay?” Lyra asks, angling her head so that her cheek could settle against the side of his face.

“Yeah. Tired . . .”

Lyra quietly tuts, nuzzling him. She kisses his temple, murmuring, “Sounds like bedtime.”

Asra snorts, leaning back so he can bat his eyes at her. His white eyelashes flutter enticingly, but Lyra’s resolute.

“We have the morning, my love,” Lyra counters, laughing as Asra pouts. She stands up and away from the wall. She remains steady when Asra wraps his legs around her waist, locking his ankles behind her lower back.

Lyra reinforces her hold on him with her hands against the underside of his thighs. She makes a beeline for the stairs, ascending them carefully with her precious cargo in her arms.

“We’ve been up all day and I am sure you just want to flop into bed—”

“—with you—!” Asra protests. When a yawn betrays him, Asra nuzzles into the side of Lyra’s neck.

She chuckles. “All right all right,” she relents, pausing midway up the stairs.

Lyra leans back a bit, allowing Asra to untuck himself from her neck. Their foreheads touch, their lips gently brushing against each other as Lyra deftly makes her way up the rest of the stairs.

A/N: Final Word Count: 2,800+ words

This is were I found the blessing Aisha says to Asra and Lyra [LINK]. I apologize ahead of time if I misrepresented any part of that.

Happy belated birthday to Asra and Faust! I’m glad I took the extra day to get this finalized. I loved writing every bit of it.

Thanks again for sweetalnazar and the rest of the participants for making this event possible and enjoyable! Have a good day/night!

[Asra’s design is from his official Wedding Charm design from Nix Hydra, and Lyra’s wedding charm art is done by @agent-darkbootie]

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Day 2: Touch(y)

@sweetalnazar

Featuring Lyra Nguyen and Asra Alnazar; Modern AU

(Close Friendship, Pre-Romantic Relationship)

“How long do you think she’s going to be angry at me?”

“Asra, she has no right to be this pissed at you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll probably know for sure in about . . . two hours?”

Asra winces at that assessment, barely able to prevent himself from tripping over a tree root in the sidewalk as Lyra continues ahead.

“It’s not your fault!” she calls back, slowing down enough for him to finally catch up.

“Wh-when you said that your mom can blow things out of pr-proportion—” Asra chokes on air, coughing. Lyra reaches into her drawstring bag, handing her friend a plastic water bottle. Asra takes it with a quiet thanks, waterfalling the contents into his mouth.

“This is actually mild compared to the other bullshit she’s pulled.”

Asra grimaces, struggling to keep up with her when she resumes power walking. This situation is flipped from when Asra wanted to go go go somewhere; he didn’t like this one bit.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to stuff my face with food,” Lyra replies simply. “There’s a small Vietnamese place that cooks the best popcorn chicken with their rice down this way—” Lyra walks on, rattling on with commentary about a third of the menu before she stops and turns to face Asra again, giving him a small smile. “I’ll even pay for whatever you want to get, too. Cap is $200 altogether, for the both of us. Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah . . . no, no problem . . .” Asra's breathless. He gets properly upright once at the door of the establishment. When Lyra opens the door, the bell above clangs into the metal frame it hangs off of.

The smell of good food welcomes them both.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Later . . .

Asra, having the end of his chopsticks hovering close to his lips, watches Lyra consume another bowl of fried rice and a side of dumplings. The aisle-side of the booth’s table has a wall consisting of plates, bowls, and various utensils. Asra looks to the busser, sympathetic when they stop by the table for the third time to clear it. He places his chopsticks horizontally over his bowl of phở, exhaling softly.

“Ly?”

“Mmph?” Lyra stops eating, one cheek full of food as she looks at him. Seeing his expression, she carefully turns to the side.

Shielding the lower half of her face with her hand, Lyra quickly chews what’s in her mouth. With each swallow, she chases it with her tea, wincing at the heat. Once she’s done, Lyra quickly grabs tissues from the napkin dispenser against the wall. With one hand, she works on getting rid of what’s leftover on her mouth and lips. Her other hand rubs the area under her hyoid bone.

“Ow . . .” she rasps.

“You’re not Faust!” Asra teases, but there’s still that edge of worry in his voice.

Lyra glances at him, her dark brown eyes unexpectedly meeting Asra’s own. Her eyes widen, taking in the brown curls framing his face. She quickly averts her gaze to the table itself. Her eyes bore into the resin tabletop.

“Do you think you’re done?”

She nods.

“Okay. You still want to pay for all of the stuff we ate?”

She nods again, taking the table’s number stand with her as she goes to the register a ways behind Asra. He finishes up his bowl of phở and leaves a hefty tip on the table when the busser comes. He thanks them, getting to his feet when Lyra returns soon after.

After they box their leftovers, the pair walk single-file out the door. Outside, they maneuvered themselves to walk side by side.

“Where do you want to go next?”

“I don’t wanna go back to my uncle’s yet,” Lyra murmurs.

“I know . . .”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Lyra is much, much slower with a stomach full of food. Asra's relieved, especially since he has an inkling he might have pulled something while tripping over the tree root earlier.

"How are you feeling?" Asra asks, looking over at her.

"Not that good." Lyra hugs herself around her abdomen, looking a little green.

Asra winces. He looks around them, immediately spotting a bodega up ahead.

“Ginger ale or—?"

"The lemon-lime one this time, please," Lyra rasps, swallowing thickly.

He's off like a shot, making Lyra laugh when he zips past the front door. In a few moments he zooms back to her, quickly wiping the top of the can with his shirttail before passing it to her.

Lyra gently taps the top of the can with a fingernail. She holds it away from herself, tugging on the pull-tab before shuffling to the side of the sidewalk.

The both of them stand under the awning of a boarded up building, graffitied with all sorts of art.

"No 'splosion," Lyra exhales in relief. She carefully sips on the drink, lightly coughing.

Asra nods, barely able to hide his concern as she closes her eyes.

Lyra was prone to eating her feelings. That wasn't the surprising thing. Asra has seen her stress-eat during final exams back in high school, but this was something else.

Bzz. Bzz.

"That's you," Lyra murmurs.

You left your phone back at your uncle's? Asra didn't voice these thoughts, instead checking on the messages he's received. As expected, they were all from Lyra's family.

🏒Neha: Where are you guys?

💻 Walt: Still a bit dicey back here. I think you kids can come back around 4 or 5 o'clock though.

🍰 James: Bao and Mai are still yelling at each other. Going to be a while yet. Everything ok?

Asra answers them all to the best of his ability, immediately pocketing his phone.

It's only just after 2 p.m.

"What they say?"

"Your uncle and mom are still discussing things—" He blinks in surprise when Lyra snorts derisively, shaking her head.

"Well, what do you want me to say about it?" Asra shifts his weight from one foot to another, assessing her body language.

"I know they're at each other's throats still. You don't need to protect me from that." Lyra gives him a rueful smile.

"I'm sorry,” Asra murmurs softly.

Lyra gently nudges her elbow to his upper arm. "It wasn't my fault, much less yours."

"She got really angry today."

"We were just snuggled together—" Lyra stops to scoot back from the sidewalk, allowing a parent and their gaggle of children to pass before continuing,

"—we fell asleep watching t.v. in the living room. Mom didn't have to surprise us with a visit."

"It's just her up here, right?"

"Mhm. Vinh is back with Theodore. I'm just happy my mom didn't hit you with anything more substantial."

Asra laughs. "The pillow was within reach—better than the lamp on the side table.”

"I would feel terrible if she did."

"She didn't though."

Lyra nods, exhaling softly. "I'm sorry I freaked you out earlier. I must've looked like a Sarlacc pit."

"You're nowhere near that" Asra nudges his upper arm against hers. "I don't blame you for what happened."

"I still say she's blowing it out of proportion!"

“Perhaps, but she wanted to protect you.”

“She assumes the worst in everyone around her, Asra. Theodore is the only one that’s not subject to it anymore. It’s really not healthy. Aside from my father being a major part of why I left, why do you think I wanted so badly to stay with my uncle?”

“Mmm . . .” Asra hums, exhaling.

He scoots back over to her, positioning himself so that shoulder to shoulder, they’re touching. In turn, Lyra leans over just enough to have the side of her head rest upon his shoulder.

They still had a few hours to kill. There weren’t any NO LOITERING signs nearby, either. For the time being, this was a perfect spot to rest in.

A/N: I took it in a bit of a different direction. (^w^)

Context for who is who in here—

Lyra Nguyen is related to her uncle Bảo through her mother, Mai. Theodore is Mai’s current significant other, but not married to her (yet). Vinh is Lyra’s biological younger sister.

Walterine Aster is—from the canon Arcana timeline—the aunt Ly inherits The Shop from in Center City. In modern AU, she’s a single mother who has a daughter named Neha. She’s known James and Bảo for years, having met the former back in their college days.

James Cionaodh is Bảo’s partner (married). These two live with Walterine and Neha because living where they are—modern equivalent to San Francisco—is expensive as all hell.

Neha is roughly the same age as Vinh in this modern AU. She is technically Ly’s cousin by marriage from the canon Arcana timeline (long story), but in that timeline they’re essentially sisters, at least Pre-Red Plague and post Upright/a few Reversed timelines.

I’ll probably need to make a separate post for this but, thank you so much for reading!

UPDATE JUNE 12TH, 2021: [NEXT]

#The Arcana #asraweek2021 #fan apprentice #Asra #magicianapprenticelyra #the scribe writes #Uncle Bảo #Neha Aster #Walterine Aster #James Aster #OCs #modern AU #AUs

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Tidying Up/Doing Chores

A/N: I’m going to run with this one because it deals with Lyra’s past and her adjustment to living in Vesuvia with a supportive, loving family.

CW/TW: For past abuse/child abuse/emotional abuse, dysfunctional family, development of anxiety, etc.

Timeline/Settings—Rồngkarst, Leysương, nineteen to twenty years ago; Pre-Red Plague Vesuvia, eight and a half to nine years ago . . .

1. When her mom (Mai) married her dad (Nhung, son of a high ranking diplomat), Mai expected that she would be moved to a living situation where maids/servants would do things for her. Spoiler alert: that didn't happen.

When Lyra was 7 to 8 years old, Mai took her frustrations out on Lyra over this. Over time, a disproportionate amount of chores was hefted onto Lyra so that Mai can attend to other things.

[More under the cut!]

O*O*O

2. After Mai fled Rồngkarst with baby Vinh in tow, this left a thirteen to fourteen year old Lyra alone with her father. At this point, maids/servants (two to three of them) were hired to help out.

It turns out like many elders’ opinions of the next generation, the maids were very judgmental of Lyra's methods of cleaning. Despite the fact the kid still got her chores/tasks done on time, there was always something she had done wrong.

This would lead to Lyra having a lot of anxiety.

O*O*O

3. When on the road to Vesuvia, she was forced to serve her cousins hand and foot so they'd give her room and board.

Said room was a cramped area of the cart, and the food they left her was just enough scraps for her to survive on.

Sometimes, Lyra didn't eat because she was too exhausted.

O*O*O

4. Upon finally getting to her uncle's house and settling in, Lyra often overdid herself in trying to help with chores.

During just the first six months of living there, Lyra went above and beyond in keeping her uncle's house and shop spic and span.

Unfortunately, Ly was having breakdowns over any bad spots in the house she missed. She kept this hidden until James, Walt, or Bảo encountered her having one of these in the storage closet of Bảo’s store.

Everyone was worried of course. It was Walt during a family meeting that she suggested the following: Lyra needed a day or two—to a week—every month without worrying about chores.

Before Lyra can protest, Neha interjects that none of them would be suffering if she (Lyra) just needed to relax.

“You don’t get mad when any of us get too tired to do what we need to, right?”

Lyra gets quiet, knowing full well one of the rest of them would take over, if they could.

It was really, really rough on Lyra on the first few attempts. It takes time, but it worked!

O*O*O

5. They all eventually figured out that the best way for Lyra to do her household tasks was to NOT TO BE WATCHED. On her own, Lyra did things her way and nothing went wrong with anything. Easy-peasy.

If she missed a spot/forgot a task, it was no biggie.

Bảo seeing his niece adjusting to her new surroundings—slowly but surely—was of immense relief to him.

O*O*O

5a. Lyra can help get ingredients/prep food for meals without any problem.

Cooking for the family, however, is completely off limits. Lyra has extremely awful memories of her father/cousins throwing the food that she made for them back at her because she did it 'wrong'.

A/N: I’m gonna stop here for now. thanks for reading!

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #tw: abuse mention #tw: abuse #tw: child abuse #magicianapprenticelyra #the scribe writes #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #OCs #oc x oc x oc

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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At the Ready (Part I)

[Finding Space and Time] | [Counting the Days] | [At the Ready]

Timeline: Muriel’s Route; The Sun

[Featuring @vesuvianoak‘s fan apprentice Ąžuolas]

“Hey, Ąžuolas?” James looks up from the base of the tree. Bảo’s settling into his spot as Ąžuolas leans over the edge of the platform.

“Yeah?” Ąžuolas replies.

“That’s my husband you got there . . .” James murmurs. “Please watch out for him.”

“JAMES!” Bảo exclaims, “Don’t put so much pressure on him! You so mean!”

His husband laughs, shaking his head. Hand on his sword’s hilt, James replies, “Just making sure. I know you both can take care of yourselves, and each other. I just . . .”

“Aw baby,” Bảo chuckles. “I know, you worry . . .”

“We’ll have each other’s backs,” Ąžuolas interjects. “That I can promise you.”

James nods at his fellow Southernlander and pulls the hood of his cloak up. With a wave, he’s off to check in on one last group: his wife and daughter at the cave.

O*O*O

“C’mon everyone, please keep in line!” Walt calls out, marking down whoever passes her by on a large pile of parchment. “File in towards the back, stay out of the pond with the giant lily pads, don’t stray from the marked paths, and I’ll be in there with the rest of ya shortly!”

“Walt!” James calls, weaving in and out of the foliage.

“Hey babe!” Walt continues to sign people in as she and her husband share a quick peck. “Bảo situated?”

“Yeah,” James nods. “Neha inside yet?”

“Done and done.”

“Good, good . . .”

“You see Ly and Muriel?”

“Back at barricades with the Countess,” James murmurs. “Gods be with us all today.”

Walt checks in the final person to the cave, exhaling in relief.

“I better get in there myself,” she murmurs.

Before she goes in, James pulls her into a tight hug. He’s shaking.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Walt soothes, gently rocking on her heels. The pair sway back and forth together. “You’ve been practicin’ with Ludo and Blumilda. You’ll be fine. Grab a shield on your way to your post.”

“Ach, right,” James groans, hiding his face into her shoulder. “I hope there are some left.”

“Get to it,” Walt encourages, stepping back. She squeezes his shoulders, giving him an earnest smile. “You got this!”

James nods, coming down to give her a proper kiss. With that he leaves, making haste to the weapons storage to grab a shield.

As he fades from view, Walterine starts activating all the protection sigils around the cave.

Neha is waiting for her at the mouth of it. She’s armed with her batting stick, shifting her weight from side to side as her mother strides in. Walt’s eyes glow a deep magenta.

“You didn’t have to wait for little ol’ me,” Walt chuckles.

“I wanted to see it all light up,” Neha replies. She walks backward, eyes pointed toward the nearest rocky surface.

As Walt passes the sigils she’s drawn into the walls, they come to life. A magical wall forms behind her, sealing the front of the cave in a solid mixture of illusory defense. Foliage appears in front of the cave’s mouth, hiding it from discerning eyes,

Before long, Walt sits down among her fellow Vesuvians. She blinks, her glowing eyes flickering in time with the shield’s walls.

As the war horns and drums sound outside, she’s focused on maintaining the shield.

The battle’s begun.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

FWIP! SWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-PAP!

The pebble smacks into an enemy soldier’s forehead. It stuns them enough to crash into their fellow compatriots. The group of them fall right into a hidden trap nearby, knocking even more of their soldiers off their feet.

“Nice one!” Ąžuolas crows, pelting others with hailstones the size of his fist.

“Thank you!” Bảo makes quick work of the contents of the giant leather sack between them. His aim is impeccable, his pebbles the perfect distraction and an actual danger to the exposed skins and craniums of the invaders.

There seems to be five mercenaries for every citizen of Vesuvia. Despite this, none of the enemies have made it anywhere close to the barricades.

When arrows start whizzing by their heads, Ąžuolas switches over to creating his ice traps. Buckets and barrels full of water had been hidden amongst the bushes, allowing Ąžuolas and other water-leaning magicians to make the most of it.

He catches some arrows in balls of ice, redirecting them to the archers that sent them. Down below, soldiers attempting to cut down their tree have Bảo busy.

As he shoots pebbles between several soldiers’ eyes, he hopes James is faring better.

O*O*O

One mercenary managed to disarm him. James is at a severe disadvantage without his sword. With their dagger and his weapon in their hands, the mercenary has him pinned against a nearby tree.

James has his shield up, gritting his teeth. With the other driving their blades into the splintering wood, it’s making it severely difficult to concentrate. The exertion of him pushing back against the enemy is starting to take its toll.

His gaze is locks with this mercenary’s own. Their eyes are wild, reveling in all the bloodshed they wrought upon the fallen Vesuvians around them both.

“Any last words?” they grin, watching as the shield begins to fall apart in James’s hands.

“Go ndeine an diabhal dréimire de cnámh do dhroma ag piocadh úll i ngairdín Ifrinn!” James swears, bracing for when steel would sink into his chest.

Before the mercenary could end him, blurs of white and orange slam into their ankles. James freezes, jaw dropping as recognition falls over him.

Corgis?! What in the world, he hasn’t seen any since—

The merc drops to the ground, trying to shake the dogs off. They bite harder in retaliation, growling and snapping at the mercenary’s offending hands and ankles.

James grabs a piece of his broken shield. Without ceremony, he smashes it over the mercenary’s head. Dusting his hands of the wood dust, he inspects them. He properly knocked them out; they aren’t dead, no, but at the very least concussed.

Seeing that the aggressor was down, the dogs turn around to face James. Their mouths are open, tongues lolling out amicably.

“Madra maith!” James praises the dogs, petting their heads and flanks. “Madra maith—ach, sorry for the blood, little ones!” He turns to find a dewy patch of grass, wiping his hands, wrists and arms free of red.

“Now then,” James looks over the stout little dogs, trying not to frown. “I think you’re all friends, but if you’re with the mercenaries I may be in troub—”

“James?”

He freezes, watching as the corgis trot off toward the direction of the new voice. Slowly, he gets to his feet. He stares at the tall woman approaching.

“James!” she exclaims, dropping her spear and rushing toward him.

His reply is lost in the din of war horns in the distance, but the newcomer sees it on his lips all the same.

Mum!

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Is she going to be okay?”

Lyra peers in through the tent flap, looking at Walterine. On the floor of the tent is her aunt, effectively knocked out. Curled up in Walt’s arms is Neha, who is just starting to fall asleep.

“She will be,” Bảo reassures. He’s sitting beside Neha, legs crossed as he looks on at Lyra. “Thank you for checking in, con.”

She nods. “If any of you need anything, Muri and I are just up the hill.”

Bảo laughs. “We know!” As she and her uncle laugh a bit, weighty footsteps come up behind Lyra. Bảo leans over to the side; it’s just enough for him to see that his niece’s beau just behind her.

“Đi con, đi,” Bảo urges, waving her off. “We be okay. I promise.”

Lyra nods at him before stepping away from the tent. Bảo listens as she and Muriel walk away. Before long, the only sound he can hear is the noise of Tent-Vesuvia going through its nightly routine. The man sits back, sighing softly.

James isn’t back from his meeting with the Countess yet. After Bảo and Ąžuolas got down from their perch, a messenger had found Bảo and told him that his husband was in the middle of an extremely important meeting with the Countess.

Apparently, James had encountered someone from his family on the battlefield.

That was as much as Bảo knew of the situation. While the Countess is known for her fairness these days, the fact James encountered his family as they were on the side of the enemy . . .

It puts quite a few thorns into the situation, doesn’t it?

A/N: It’s good to be writing again! This has been in my drafts since January. Thank you so much for reading—it means a lot to me.

#The Arcana #Muriel #muriel x apprentice #fan apprentice #magicianapprenticelyra #vesuvianoak #OCs #oc x oc x oc #Uncle Bảo #James Aster #Walterine Aster #Neha Aster #the scribe writes

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

Text

Birthdays of the Aster-Nguyen Family

A/N: I’ve been needing to get this written down for a while now. I hope you enjoy reading it as I did writing it!

Bảo Nguyen: November 20(?)/23(?)/28(?) [♏/♐] | {Cusp(?)} | [💧🐅] [His dad was extremely drunk when the birth certificate was written. These days, Bảo feels free to celebrate it on any one of those days, so long everyone he cares for can come and celebrate with him. His favorite gifts to receive are socks and shoes that fit his feet]

O*O*O

Walterine Aster: June 24th [♊/♋] | {Cusp} [The only child of her parents, she was treated well and had the undivided attention of at least one of her parents at any given time. As much as she loves partying, her birthdays are strictly with family and a handful of friends. Her favorite gifts to receive are magic books or new blouses that fit her body].

O*O*O

James Cionaodh Aster: February 23rd [♒/♓] {Cusp} [The second youngest in a family with five kids, James didn’t stand out much among his siblings. However, his fascination with the seanchaidhe veered him to a life loving stories of all kinds. His birthday is usually a night of trading stories. His favorite gifts to receive is a recipe, or ten!]

O*O*O

Lyra Nguyen: February 5th [♒] | [ 🔥🐀] [Her birthday marked the day her mother and uncle reconciled their feud. After Bảo was banished, Lyra didn’t have any good birthdays. Her first birthday in Vesuvia was spent recovering from her journey to her new home. Luckily it’s gotten better over the years. Her favorite presents to receive are books].

O*O*O

Neha Aster: May 23rd [♉/♊] | {Cusp} [Neha knows her biological father went MIA before she was born. Knowing that he was a good man puts her mind at ease. For about six birthdays, she wished to have an older sibling. She got her wish when Lyra showed up and came into her life. She hasn’t wanted anything else since, except parties with her friends].

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #OCs #magicianapprenticelyra #the scribe writes #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster

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magicianapprenticelyra · 4 years

Text

Finding Space and Time

Summary: They haven’t gotten this close to her in over three years. And yet, there she was. There she was, in the flesh, wearing a dress meant for the Masquerade and cleaning her glasses.

Timeline: Muriel’s Route; before the conclusion of The Tower book.

Featuring: Bảo Nguyen, Walterine Aster, James Aster, and Neha Aster.

Tent-Vesuvia

All around them, people that fled from Vesuvia were trickling into the forest. People have already started to dig pits for bonfires, have designated areas for latrines, and are setting up tents to stay in for the foreseeable future.

Asra's been guiding the four of them to settle on a spot. James holds some of the poles to pitch the tent; Walt carries a box of what they could fit from home; Neha holds an additional box of such, along with a tarp folded on top of it; Bảo himself holds some more metal poles, wearing a tool belt with some spades, metal spikes, and a length of rope lashed around his waist.

It's when they get closer to their destination that Bảo halts abruptly, causing James to almost topple them both from bumping into his husband.

“Oi!” James gasps, righting himself quickly. He rebalances his hold on the poles, asking Bảo what’s wrong.

The shortest of them says nothing. His gaze remains pointed ahead, to where a couple just finished setting up their tent.

The four of them haven’t gotten this close to her in over three years. And yet, there she was. There she was in the flesh, wearing a dress meant for the Masquerade and cleaning her glasses.

“Lyra!” Asra calls, removing his hat from his head. He approaches the two further up. “Can they set up camp over there?”

Muriel, former Scourge of the South, lets out a noncommittal sound.

He was with Lyra?

All the times she went to the forest with Asra . . . was it to see—?

“Oh, sure!” Lyra nods. As the young woman replaces her glasses on her face, she turns toward the others. Bảo quickly throws the hood of his cloak over his head, and Neha follows suit.

They didn’t want a repeat of last time . . .

Lyra carefully approaches them, most definitely not wearing the right shoes for this terrain.

Asra offers his arm to help balance her. From there, he makes the introductions, eyes mostly on Lyra. He’s gauging how she’s going to fare . . . seeing them all again.

Neha hides behind her Papa, leaning over to the side to get a look at her. Bảo on the other hand stands just off to the side, slightly separated from the rest of them. His heart is thundering in his chest, body slightly tremulous.

When Asra introduces Bảo to his niece, the man stays silent.

After a while of awkward silence, James clears his throat. “If it’s all the same to ye,” he murmurs softly, “me family and I would like to get settled.”

Lyra nods in understanding. She points out some rocks in the area to avoid, lest anyone get concussions. “If you need any help, we’re just up the way,” she adds, smiling as she gestures to where she's settled.

With that, Asra helps Lyra back toward the tent. The white-haired magician turns back a moment to see nods of thanks from the Aster-Nguyen family.

It’s a start, to say the least.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Over time, Lyra and Muriel have become beloved public figures within Tent-Vesuvia. Lyra, kind as ever, helped around where she could. Muriel typically wasn’t too far away from her, offering a begrudging hand here and there too.

One evening, Lyra plays a game of kickball with some of the younger kids. Most are as young as four years old, and the eldest ones are within the teenaged category. At the moment, Neha is off harvesting food with a group of adults, including her father. This leaves Walterine and Bảo back within the settlement.

Currently, Walterine sits against a tree, her husband in her arms. Bảo has his back to her front, settled between her legs. Walt herself has her chin playfully settled atop of her husband’s head, arms wrapped around his waist.

“You okay?” Walt murmurs.

“Mm?” Bảo blinks, shifting his head up slightly. “Why you ask?”

“Well . . . you’re always watchin’ her, but you’re not trying to get to know her again.”

Before he can answer, a children's chorus of mischievous laughter fills the air. Bảo shifts to look, witnessing the kids collectively tackle his beloved niece to the dirt in an impromptu dog pile. Parents immediately go pick their rowdy little ones off of Lyra. Miraculously, her glasses weren’t broken in the process.

“We win!” one of the children crow as they’re carried off by one parent, the other profusely apologizing to Lyra.

“No no no! I-it’s okay!” she reassures, dusting herself off. She, at the very least, got into more practical clothes.

Neither of them knew why Muriel remained in his Masquerade attire. Seeing how big of a guy he is, it's probably the only thing within the camp to fit him properly.

“ . . . you gonna talk to her?” Walt murmurs, hugging Bảo just a little tighter.

“. . . not yet,” he replies. His wife sighs, but she plants a soothing kiss to the top of his head. Patting his shoulder, the pair of them get up as Neha and James return with their group of neighbors.

It was time to divvy up the goods.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Excuse me?”

James looks up, seeing Lyra standing before him.

Currently, he’s in the process of waxing his bowstring. Surprisingly, she too has a bow on hand. It’s unstrung, and the bowstring she holds in her hand is terribly frayed.

“Yes?” James replies, still rubbing the wax into his bowstring. “Do you have a question?”

She nods. James gestures for her to sit down. In turn, Lyra carefully moves a flat rock over, quickly settling on it.

After a pregnant pause, Lyra finally replies with, “I . . . want to learn how to properly wax the bowstring,”

“That’s fine,” James nods. “What arrows are you usin’?”

To his shock, Lyra conjures an arrow from thin air. It's made of light; he could make out touches of a light sea green color within the silvery arrow.

James swallows, his skin soon covered in goosebumps. “ . . . I see,” he nods, voice strained.

Before Lyra can properly apologize, James politely waves her off. "Doan worry 'bout it," he reassures. "I should've known you'd be able to do that. You were always a bright one, lass . . ."

Lyra shakes her hand about, dissipating the arrow before she hands the items over to him.

As James teaches her proper bow and bowstring care, he notices she's looking at him oddly.

"Is it me hair or eyes?" he laughs softly.

" . . . both and . . . not." Lyra rubs the side of her neck sheepishly.

"What's botherin' you?"

". . . how do you know Asra?"

Ah . . .

"Me wife is a magician too," he explains. "She went to your shop quite a bit."

"How come I've never seen her, then?"

"Walt's economical," James nods. "Tends to buy enough to last 'er a while."

Lyra looks at him skeptically. James raises an eyebrow in turn.

"Lass, if you want to say something—"

"I knew you and your family before, didn't I?"

James is taken aback by her bluntness. He's missed it.

". . . yes," he nods. James checks the state of her bowstring, handing it back to her. "You know how to string it?"

"Wait a minute!" Lyra sputters. "How? Why? How come—?"

"Easy Lyra . . ." he soothes. "Easy. Mind yer voice; getting more eyes as is." James makes a gesture to someplace behind her with the tilt of his head.

Lyra flushes scarlet, mouth curved into a frown. In the meantime, James looks at the curious onlookers with a venomous glare. Move . . .

They eventually dispersed. When James is sure they’re alone, he asks her quietly, “How did you know?”

“You slipped,” Lyra chuckles wryly. “You said how I was ‘always a bright one’. I don’t remember you, sadly . . .”

“Asra told us about your accident,” he replies. James continues with the details: how she was trying a spell to find a cure for the Red Plague. It backfired terrifically. It had wiped her memory to the point where she was almost like an infant.

“Th’ fact Asra managed to get you back to being like an adult again in a three year span . . .” James exhales. “We’re . . . we’re indebted to him, truly.”

“Ahh . . . yeah,” Lyra nods, swallowing. “Asra told me that too.”

“’m sorry . . .”

“What are you sorry for?” Lyra looks at him quizzically.

“The fact you dealt with all that, and the episodes if you came across any one of us . . ."

"It wasn't your fault," Lyra murmurs. "We didn't know . . . you didn't know. . ."

James nods. "So . . . how do you wish to get to know us all again . . .?"

O*O*O

They have this conversation while Lyra and Muriel were in the Countess’s headquarters. James breaks the news to his family that their niece now knew of her connection to them.

“WHY YOU DO THAT?!”

While Walt gapes at their husband’s outburst, James winces. Their daughter wisely moves out of the vicinity, mumbling she’s going to a friend’s tent just down the way.

“I beg your pardon—she’s family!” Walt crosses her arms over her chest. Adjusting her glasses, she adds, “Bảo, this is your chance to—”

“Not like this!” Bảo responds. His voice is paper-thin, drawing worry between his spouses’ eyebrows. “No no, not like this . . .”

Walterine and James share a look of concern as Bảo completely breaks down in front of them. James gathers him into his arms, carrying him back into their tent with Walt following close behind.

By the time Lyra and Muriel stumble back to their tent, Bảo had completely cried himself to sleep.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Everyone else is asleep at this point. Walterine would be on patrol duty in just fifteen minutes

“Mrs. Aster? Or should it be Auntie?” Walt turns around to see Lyra. The young woman stands just a little bit outside the light of the campfire.

Walt lowers her glasses a moment, her magenta eyes flashing in the moonlight. Satisfied this was not an imposter, Walt waves her over.

“C’mon, take a seat!” The older woman pats the space of the log next to herself. “And please, don’t call me that. We’re family, Ly!”

Struck by how familiar Walterine’s being with her, Lyra carefully settles herself down on the spot.

“What can I do you for?” Walt asks Lyra. “It can’t be anything big, though. Got patrol soon.”

“I know,” Lyra nods. “I’m on this patrol too.”

Walt grins at that. “Big tall and handsome coming along?”

Lyra sputters, blushing a bit. “He may or may not . . . depends if Asra’s filling in for him.

“Fine by me: I can get the dirt on you from Asra,” Walt teases.

“Dirt? What dirt?” Lyra retorts, incredulous. “Why can’t you talk to me ?”

Walt chuckles. She pats Lyra’s shoulder. “Hon, I’m just teasing. I’m sorry.”

Lyra nods in reply, exhaling softly.

“How many patrols have you done already?” Walterine asks.

“Mmmmmm . . . this would be my fourth, overall?” Lyra murmurs.

“Are you still scared of the dark?”

“Not as bad, I think. Asra said when I first woke up I couldn’t sleep without the stove salamander for a while.”

Walt chuckles good-naturedly. “The stove salamander is a lovely little friend.”

“Mm!”

They sit together, happily getting to know each other again. Lyra turns around when she hears their patrol group approaching, and a smile alights her face as Muriel turns out to be among the group.

“Everyone got everything?” Walt asks, getting her lantern relit. Everyone makes a confirming sound.

“All right. Let’s go!”

O*O*O

The patrol went uneventfully; everyone’s grateful for that. While walking together, Walt took up the front with a fisherman and a bricklayer. In turn, Lyra often switched off with Muriel in terms of holding up the rear, then taking a position in the middle.

By the time the trio return to the area, James is already awake. He’s made breakfast for the three of them. Apparently, he’s also on the next patrol rotation.

Muriel quietly thanks James, trundling off with his bowl to sit on a nearby stump. Lyra does so as well, but not before dipping her head in thanks.

Lyra’s eyes catch movement in the tent behind James. Before the tent flap closed, she caught a flash of bright green hair framing a curious face.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Lyra got to meet Neha Aster when the latter was in a sparring circle with other teenagers and young adults. Nahara herself was watching them work, making commentary on how to reposition their stance and to catch their opponents by surprise.

“ . . . she moves like a dancer,” Lyra notes to the Prakran princess.

“You said she’s your sister?” Nahara inquires softly.

“According to my aunt and uncle, she was around the age of eight or nine when we first met,” Lyra explains. “Walt said she adopted me as a sister right on the spot, even as I was in rags and covered in lice . . .”

As she watches, the bright green of Neha’s tied-back hair comes apart when her opponent grabs at it. The pair tumble to the ground, wrestling ferociously. Nahara moves to break it up when Neha bites, hard, into her opponent's forearm. As Neha and her opponent spring appart, a bloody bite mark is evident on the other’s forearm. Neha had bitten hard enough to draw blood.

“Take a break, everyone!” Nahara states. She specifically tells Neha to go and clean up her mouth. As Neha departs, she catches sight of Lyra following after her.

“You don’t need to hold my hair back,” she tells the bespectacled woman. “I’m fine.”

“You’re pretty scrappy,” Lyra compliments.

Neha grins. “A lot of my friends are from the South End. I had to keep up with them somehow. I learned from Baba.”

“James?”

“No,” Neha shakes her head. “Your uncle.”

O*O*O

After Neha cleaned up, they both sat around a campfire, eating their lunch. Lyra munches on some scrambled eggs as Neha has some masala kheema with rice.

“Want some?” Neha offers her.

“Is it spicy like last time?”

“No; they lessened the spice after everyone had to run to the latrines,” Neha laughs, grinning as Lyra shakes her head.

“It doesn’t taste good to you unless your gut is in agony?”

“Hey: food is food, especially now!” Neha replies. “Plus, until the fucking water can stop turning into wine, we’re still trying to make juice out of all the berries we’re picking. The forest’s gonna run out at this rate!”

Lyra nods. “Hopefully this whole situation will be resolved sooner.”

Neha smiles. “I know it will, especially with you and Muriel helping out.” A mischievous smile grows on Neha’s face. The fact it wasn’t too unlike Asra’s cat-like smirk makes Lyra squint.

“What are you doing?” Lyra murmurs.

“To be honest, I thought it was gonna be you and Asra.”

“HUH?”

“Yeah!” Neha continues, not seeming to care Lyra was bewildered. “You two were attached at the hip: not too different from how you are with Muriel now. Though, Asra was too chicken to confess so, yeah.”

Lyra stares at Neha, dumbfounded.

“But hey, he’s shacking up with Julian soooo . . .”

“Can we please change the subject,” Lyra pleads. Neha was too happy to do so.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Bảo, with a basket of laundry, is making his way back to his family’s tent. He’s struck by an amazing sight: Muriel and Lyra were returning to Tent-Vesuvia, making a beeline toward the Countess’s headquarters; behind them, wobbling on one heeled shoe and disheveled beyond belief, was Consul Valerius .

Bảo sets his basket aside. He finds a stump to stand on to see above the many people stopping and staring at the Consul.

Somehow, Walt and James find him in his chosen spot. As Bảo is trying not to burst into laughter, Walt pats his arm.

“He’s mourning the loss of a fancy-ass shoe, hon. Have some respect!” she cackles, soon leaning onto him for support as she laughs with him. James had a stupendously grin on his face, watching Consul Valerius trudge into the hut after Muriel and Lyra.

Later, spun by the group of teenagers witnessing the Consul’s walk of shame, news of it got through the entire settlement.

“He fell into the mud and Muriel had to pull his sorry ass out.”

“His shoe is deep in the mud: he’s never gonna see it again.”

“The worms won’t get much of a meal there: it’s as cheap as his personality.”

It was the only thing that was spoken of throughout Tent-Vesuvia the rest of the night.

O*O*O

At an ungodly hour, Walterine returns from patrol with a grim expression. The woman finds Bảo talking with some friends at the campfire. She pats Bảo on the shoulder, and walks away from the group. He excuses himself from the others, quickly following after his wife. When Bảo’s within an arm’s length from her, she turns to face him.

“She’s heading into Vesuvia at dawn.”

A chill coalesces at the base of his neck. “What?” Bảo rasps.

“I heard from some of the others. She’s going with Muriel to take on the Pontifex.”

“Is the Countess crazy?!” Bảo exclaims. Walt hushes him, looking behind him to see if anyone was listening.

Satisfied that there weren’t any eavesdroppers, she replies with, “You need to talk to her. You need to, before it’s too late.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

He finds Lyra at the campfire closest to her and Muriel’s tent. She’s alone, looking into the flames in front of her; the young woman’s pensive. Bảo couldn’t blame her. He has half a mind to yell at the Countess for what she’s put her and Muriel up to . . .

As he approaches, Lyra looks up. Bảo stops not too far outside the light of the campfire. He lowers his hood, worriedly looking up. He expected Lyra to be clutching her head, to be writhing in agony on the ground. To his relief, she wasn’t doing any of that. Instead . . . she has a pleased expression.

“They told me to give you time, to let you seek me out . . .” Lyra murmurs, voice a touch watery.

Bảo’s frozen, unsure what to do. His heart pounds in his chest. Tears prick along the rim of his eyes, blurring his vision. The man allows his feet to guide him: he rings around the campfire and pulls her into a warm embrace. Lyra adjusts herself, happily reciprocating the hug.

O*O*O

"There so much to tell you. . . where do I begin?" Bảo murmurs.

They sit side by side, the fire at a healthy height. He tosses in a few leaves, watching them turn to ash in seconds.

"I don't know if I have time to hear the entire story," Lyra admits. "Maybe . . . maybe tell me why you avoided me? For so long?"

Bảo grimaces, sighing. He throws in a small stick, watching it burn. "We . . . it wasn't long after you decide to be Doctor Devorak's assistant. Red Plague . . ." he takes a breath. "We left for Prakra because . . . I got sick. Very sick."

"Was it the plague?" Lyra winces.

Bảo shakes his head no. "I breathe in too much ash. I not only in charge of my store: I work at the dock." He explains further that it got so bad sometimes he couldn't breathe at night.

"Doctor Devorak tell us to go Prakra. Better air, and treatment for me . . . then you decide to be apprentice for him." He laughs softly. "Such a brave girl . . ."

Lyra is surprised there's pride in his voice. "I dunno. Ask another person: they may say I was reckless."

"That too," Bảo agrees, a wry smile on his face. "You didn't want to leave your home to burn, so you stay to help . . ."

“Are we from Vesuvia?”

“No. We from place call Rồngkarst. Province in . . . in Leysương.”

“Is it far?”

“Very!" Bảo nods. "Take me a year with friends to go to Vesuvia."

“Did I come with you?”

At that question, Bảo's expression becomes rueful. “No . . . you were too little, and I wasn’ allow to take you with me . . .”

Seeing his expression, Lyra decides to not ask about it any further. She switches gears, asking, “How did you meet Walt and James?”

“They don’t tell you?”

“They told me they wanted you to be there with them, so you all could tell the story.”

“That sound like a good idea,” Bảo chuckles, nodding. From there, they continued to talk. He wants to ask about how she’s feeling about going back into the heart of Vesuvia, to fight one of the most dangerous courtiers that the city-state has ever known.

It wasn’t long before he could see Muriel approaching from a distance.

“I should get going,” Bảo murmurs. He points Muriel out to her. Upon seeing her dearest, Lyra nods in agreement.

When he stands, Lyra does as well. They embrace each other one more time before Bảo starts to head to his family’s tent.

As he makes his way back, Bảo murmurs prayers under his breath in Leysan. Please, keep her safe . . . he pleads. Please . . .

Come dawn, Bảo’s in a patrol group with Walterine. While resting a moment, the pair spot Muriel, Asra, and Lyra making their way toward Vesuvia. Bảo’s knees buckle under him. Walt manages to catch him before he hits the ground, but he was already in the throes of a panic attack.

Come back! he wants to scream. Come back, you don’t need to go! Sadly, all that is pulled from his throat are harsh sobs. He couldn’t lose her again; it’d be too soon, but Bảo’s feet are useless in getting him anywhere.

By the time he’s done sobbing, Lyra and her friends are long out of sight.

Next: Counting the Days

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #Muriel #muriel x apprentice #Asra #Nahara Satrinava #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #The Forest #the scribe writes #magicianapprenticelyra #From Buds to Flowers to Fruits

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Counting the Days

[Finding Space and Time] | [Counting the Days]

Timeline: Muriel's Route; The Moon/The Sun

[Featuring @vesuvianoak‘s fan apprentice Ąžuolas]

Asra staggering back to the camp was not what Bảo and his family had wanted to see.

“Asra!” Bảo drops everything, rushing on toward the young one.

His face becomes etched with worry: the original party of three is down to one . . . plus Doctor Devorak. The latter follows closely behind the young magician, trying to get Asra to go steady on his feet.

“Asra?” Bảo repeats, placing his hands over Asra’s shoulders. “Asra, where—?”

“Ah, Mr. Nguyen,” the doctor murmurs, placing a firm hand on Bảo’s shoulder, “I would recommend that you, uh, give him some space at the mo—”

“Where are they?!” Bảo pleads. He shakes Asra a bit, trying to get the magician to talk to him, to look at him—

Unfortunately, the young magician’s purple-pink eyes are wide and blank: the poster child of shell shock.

“Bảo—” James’s voice cuts into his inquisition from a distance. He’s quickly moving to get to them, but Walt gets to the trio first.

“Hon, c’mon,” Walt gently pries his hands off of Asra. She nods at Julian as he leads Asra away, a protective arm around the latter’s shoulders.

By then, James has caught up with his partners, quickly ushering them away. Already, there was talk, talk of concern, worry, and dread of what this meant to the resistance against Lucio.

As Walt, James, and Bảo make their way back to their tent, the shortest of them keeps looking up at the sky, a sky that looks too bright, too nice of a blue . . .

How fucking cruel.

Whispered over and over, Bảo mourns, “Ở đâu? Ở đâu, con?”

Where? Where are you?

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The war council that night is joined by what currently remains of the Aster-Nguyen family. Walt and Bảo are understandably quiet; James is pacing back and forth along the length of their side of the table; Neha, on the other hand, is livid.

“Why the hell am I the last one to know?!” Neha demands vehemently. “She’s my sister! We just got her back—!”

“Nene—” Bảo gets cut off with an aggravated snarl from her.

“Why did you have Ly and Muriel be the ones to go?! There are a lot of other people that could’ve gone in their place!” Neha snarls, her gaze hard and pointed at the Countess. “There are more experienced soldiers in the camp—I know this because—”

“Neha, stop—!” James shakes his head, but it’s no use.

“Who the hell do you think you are!?” Neha demands, slamming her hands onto the table. Tears flood her eyes; as they drip down her cheeks, she yells through gritted teeth, “They’ve already done so much for you! Are their lives that expenda—”

“Neha!” Walt snaps, “Stop it! Don’t talk to the Countess that way!”

“But Mom—”

“No! Enough is enough,” Walt sighs, shaking her head. She looks to James, who nods in return.

Wordlessly, James pulls his daughter away from the war council. Neha fights him the whole way, but James ultimately bundles her under his arms and walks off into the night. Before long, all that could be heard of Neha are her distraught, furious sobs.

The silence around the table is incredibly awkward. The Consul breaks it with: “ . . . well, that was dramatic.” He sips the last remnants of his wine, shaking his head.

For a moment, Nadia is at a loss for words. Her gaze is turned to Walterine and Bảo in sincere apology.

“There are not enough words for me to say how deeply sorry I am that you and your family are going through this,” she says.

“They, ahem . . . they wouldn’t want you to feel bad, Countess,” Walt reassures, though her voice warbles a bit.

“They’re not dead,” Bảo retorts, sighing. He rubs his eyes, tears having already made tracks on his face. “We just need to wait . . .”

“If there is absolutely anything you need,” Nadia replies, “please do not hesitate to seek me out. You know where to find me.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

After the first three days of Lyra and Muriel being missing, the Aster-Nguyen family are a wreck. The people around are kind enough to cover their shifts with cooking rotations, patrols, and even tidying around their campsite.

One of them, Ąžuolas, is a dear family friend. A frequent customer, the young man has seen Lyra around the Shop before and after the Red Plague. As of right now, Ąžuolas is among the camp that believes that Ly and Muriel will return. However, his firm belief in them didn’t belay his worries. From what he heard the pair were facing the Pontifex . . . defeating them would not have been easy. Still, he visits the Aster-Nguyen family daily, checking in with them and helping them out wherever needed,

It’s also during this time that Neha became rather sedentary. She did not go and see any of her friends; they came to her instead. With permission from her parents, they had sleepovers around their tent.

For hours at a time, Bảo wandered around the forest. He would come back in an hour or two, but he has this vacant stare in his eyes that sent chills down everyone’s spines. James had to nudge him more often than not to eat.

Asra wasn’t any better: he was usually travelling the realms of the Arcana with Walt to search for their loved ones. They did not have any luck, and it got to the point where Walt actually invited him and Julian to stay a while around her family’s campsite.

“We’ll find them sooner or later,” is her hopeful remark during one dinner.

Asra and Julian look at her with matching expressions of inscrutableness. She falls silent there, quietly returning to her food.

“The point still stands.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

The fifth day is when Walt, James and Bảo return to low levels of returning to their assigned duties. Neha was exempt, and she makes a habit of traipsing off into the woods.

It’s Asra who finds Neha out there this time.

It’s not too far away from the edges of Tent-Vesuvia; the magician had been intending to nap at the base of a certain tree, but Neha was already there.

Upon seeing him, Neha says flatly, “You can lie down or sit down or whatever . . .”

Accepting her invitation, Asra spreads out the blanket he has in hand, lying down on it. Settling on it with Faust coiling up on his chest, he places his hat over his eyes, hoping to sleep.

“. . . do you think they ran away?”

Lifting his hat off, propped on his elbows—and hat in hand—Asra raises an eyebrow at her. “How do you mean?”

“That they ran away from all this . . . crazy,” Neha gestures vaguely to the surrounding area.

“I don’t believe so,” Asra replies.

“How can you be sure?”

“For one: I know Lyra wouldn’t intentionally leave the family she was getting to know again,” he explains, sitting up fully now. “Muriel too.”

Neha’s expression screams I doubt it, but she only shrugs. Asra follows her line of sight, seeing the camp getting prepared for what seemed inevitable: lines were drawn into the dirt and a clash between their side to Lucio’s growing army of mercenaries would happen in weeks, if not days from now.

Children, those unable to fight, and the elderly were to stay in a cave until the fighting was over. Nadia wasn’t going to let anyone be stolen away to be a war prize for any of the enemy.

“I want to fight,” Neha exhales, drawing her knees to settle under her chin. “I’ll sneak away if I have to.”

“You’ll get into more trouble.”

“Do you think I care at this point?”

Asra frowns. “Even if you don’t, your parents will. Lyra will.”

Neha scoffs, but she concedes to that point. “She’s got enough trouble in her head with all this . . . if I add to it again she’s gonna get sick with worry.”

“Mhm,” he nods, then goes right back to sleep.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“For the love of the gods, Bảo!” James exclaims. He had just witnessed his husband leap over the six foot wide, six foot long, nine foot deep hole of a trap he and several other people had just finished digging. “You could hurt yourself!”

“Well, it still easy to cross!” Bảo retorts, leaning over the edge of it to stare into the abyss.

James swears under his breath, pulling him back to safety. “You break a bone it won’t heal as well! You’re not that young anymore!”

Bảo gasps, absolutely offended. "Hey! I'm not that old!"

"Says the man with gray hair!"

Bảo sticks his tongue out at his husband, but then breaks into laughter with him. James has a point: he was no spring chicken.

Double checking their map, the group’s cartographer makes note of where this trap is. Upon finishing, they all head back to Tent-Vesuvia.

Everyone was ready for the battle ahead: Bảo was going to be stationed in the trees with some other fellows, pelting things at the enemy; Walt would be with the group where the children and elderly would be hidden away, maintaining the shields and protection spells around her charges; James was going to be among the foot soldiers, which to no end worried everyone in his family.

“Are you sure you want to be on the ground when it happen?” Bảo murmurs softly. “You could stay with me or something . . . fight them from there.”

“The only reason you’re in th’ trees is because of your height and th’ fact yer lungs are givin’ ye trouble again,” James reminds him.

“Mm,” his husband nods, shaking his head. “You don’t need to be given a boost from the top of the ladder!”

“No I do not,” James replies, laughing softly. He dips down, placing a kiss on Bảo’s cheek.

“I’ll make sure you’re up there before I get to my post.”

In turn, Bảo gains a pink tint to his cheeks. He pulls James’s arm to wrap around his waist, keeping him closer as they walk together.

O*O*O

When they’re back in Tent-Vesuvia, there’s a loud racket occurring toward the center of it. James pauses, going on his tip-toes to see that a large crowd has gathered around Muriel’s hut.

“What in the world . . .?” James murmurs, startling a bit when he can hear his wife and daughter shouting in pure elation.

“Someone get the Countess!” one of their neighbors shouts.

Bảo and James look at each other, eyes wide before scrambling onward. People got out of the pair’s way. As the pair pass people by, they hear snatches of voices, relieved and awed.

“They’re back!”

“CANDANCE, DID YOU HEAR—!?”

“Oh thank the stars, they’re okay—!”

“LYRA!!!” Bảo cries out, bursting through the circle of people to pull his niece into a great big hug.

As James catches up with Bảo, the latter is hugging the stuffing out of Ly. The shorter man is soon twirling his niece in circles, sobbing and laughing with her. Before long, Bảo sets her back down. James joins in on the group hug with Neha and Walt, a great big weight drawn off his shoulders.

She was back! She was back and safe—

“C’mere you two!” Walt beckons, waving for Asra and Muriel to come over.

“But we’re not—” Muriel’s cut off by Walt grabbing his sleeve and pulling him into the hug. Asra joins in, with Faust encircling all of them in the seven people-strong hug.

“Can you please stop fucking disappearing!?” Neha pleads with Lyra once everyone lets each other go. The younger one holds onto her elder sister tightly, with Lyra returning the hug in kind.

Before Lyra can answer, Nadia enters the scene. The sight of Muriel and Lyra safe and sound brings a smile to her face.

Everyone parts ways as she approaches, and Lyra respectfully dips her head in greeting.

“You’re here,” Nadia exhales in relief.

Cheers, hurrahs, and delighted laughter light the crowd as Nadia pulls both Muriel and Lyra into a hug.

“Perhaps it is cruel of me, to keep sending you into danger . . . yet you always come back . . .” As Nadia steps back, she wipes away a tear, which makes Lyra fret a little.

“Oh Nadi—” Lyra soothes, pulling a handkerchief out of a pocket to give to her.

“Thank you,” Nadia sniffles, wiping away the rest of her tears. “Next time, I will be right beside you. I promise.”

Neha has a doubtful expression at that. She gets nudged by her mother, and gets a look from her father.

Reluctantly, they move away as Lyra and Muriel are whisked back into the hut with Asra and Nadia. Doubtless it’s to catch them up for the battle ahead.

“C’mon,” Walt urges her family, arms around the shoulders of her husbands as Neha leads the way. “Let’s do one final check of our stations and off to bed!”

[NEXT]; Updated July 26th, 2021

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #Muriel #muriel x apprentice #Asra #Julian Devorak #Asrian #Nadia Satrinava #Consul Valerius #OCs #oc x oc x oc #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #From Buds to Flowers to Fruits #the scribe writes

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Day 5: The Aunt

How did your OC get the shop in Vesuvia? Was it given to them by their aunt or other family member?

@arcana-echoes

Oh boy. How Walt got the shop is a long, long list of things she had to do in order to even get it.

Walt first got the notion to start a magic shop in Center City due to The Shop having been empty for a decade by the time she was nineteen. Walt looked around and eventually found the landlord that owned the plot that the building rested upon. She made her case, pointing out her family’s history of successful enterprises—both in Prakra and in Vesuvia at large—and the man said he’d think about it.

A week passed, and Walt wrote him a letter. He said he’d get to start the paperwork soon. Another week passed. Walt wrote him a letter, again. Same result. When another week passed, Walt got pissed enough to do something about it.

The young woman located his estate and marched to his front door. She even argued with his doorman until the landlord would come out and talk with her. When he finally did, the man found that Walterine had also brought with her a family member that was more or less a lawyer. When Walt threatened to take him to the courts, along with the other people he’s stiffed over the years, the landlord finally coughed up the necessary paperwork.

Once that was done, Walt had the deed in her name. This, however, was only the beginning.

Here’s the shortlist of what this poor woman needed to do once she got the keys to this place:

Cleaning out the interior of the shop—

Cobwebs

Rats

Their nests

Droppings . . .

Fun stuff like that.

Buying all the furniture second hand—

She got help refurbishing them thanks to Selasi, James, and several other friends and relatives.

Hunting for the lanterns and stuff was actually fun. James had come along with her. He bartered with the best of them. Walt couldn’t help it when she got a kick out of it when James won the bartering. The two of them came back home with a bunch of nice lanterns to hang up in the would-be establishment.

By the end of it, Walterine held a grand opening about fourteen months after she got the deed to the building. Thanks to her relative that went with her to the landlord’s estate, she got a decent cost in terms of rent.

It would be several decades before she transferred ownership of The Shop to Lyra. Before the girl made it to Vesuvia, Walt lived in the upstairs area. In time, James would too, just three years before they both would be engaged. To top it off, Neha grew up in The Shop for the first ten years of her life. Once Lyra took it over, Bảo had finished remodeling his living area to accommodate Walt, James, and Neha in the upstairs above his shop.

That brings us the gist of it! Thanks for reading, everyone!

#The Arcana #arcana eotp #magicianapprenticelyra #OCs #moodboard #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #Uncle Bảo #the scribe writes #oc x oc x oc

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Day 11: Defining Moment

What was their coming-of-age moment? A point where everything changed?

@arcana-echoes

Surviving The Massacre of Rồngkarst — Bảo

He’s witnessed many of his friends die around him . . . and that was even before this particular event happened.

In short, after R left Mai and Bảo hanging out to dry, the latter had joined the local militia in order to keep the Province of Rồngkarst safe from invaders. This was one of the darkest parts of Bảo’s life . . .

He doesn’t look back at this period of time fondly.

At the time, Bảo was primarily tasked doing night patrols in and out of the forest along Rồngkarst’s border. Risks of ambush from the enemy were high, but he was one of the luckiest ones: he never encountered one.

Having lost a lot—friends, even his will to live at one point but that’s another story—the only thing keeping him going was Mai’s daughter, his little niece. The little girl always searched for him when he wasn’t on patrol, wanting to spend almost every single minute with him. While it was impossible for that to happen, Bảo often indulged Liên when his sister visited.

This is beside the fact that Mai and her husband, Nhung, were often at each other’s throats, yelling and screaming, having no mind to handle it like the adults they should be in front of their daughter.

Before long, occupying soldiers from Leysương’s capital start to claim that there were traitors in their midst. Everyone finds this ludicrous, but it puts everyone in the village on edge.

One day, it comes to a point when the soldiers started round up all the members of the militia. Bảo gives a heads up for his sister to hide Liên away . . .

There was going to be blood.

The one in charge of this lot of soldiers lined up all the members of the militia, and started to count off. After a certain number, someone would be killed. Blood started to rain onto the ground, and at one point Bảo was sure that he was going to die that day.

Closer and closer, the leader was getting to where Bảo was. In one moment, Bảo felt the blood spray of a person beside him spurt, and then the body crumpled to the ground.

He’d been spared.

After the damage was done, other troops from the soldiers’ encampment came in and surrounded around the murderous comrades.

After the bodies were marked for burial and their families notified, Bảo is washing the blood out of his hair. His hair is jet black, down to his lower back. He will keep scrubbing, scrubbing and scrubbing until he ruins the ends of his hair.

Within an hour, he and several other survivors are there banished. Their hair is cut, a mark of shame.

Bảo is haunted the most by when his niece followed behind this group. The innocent child was pleading, asking why they were leaving. Mai had to pick her up and carry her back to the village.

Once they were out of sight, Bảo sank into the bottom of the cart he had settled in, and cried.

He hasn’t been back since.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

"Congratulations, You’re Pregnant!” — Walterine

On the day she found out she was pregnant, her world turned sideways. Her family, her father and cousin Selasi the exceptions, came down on her, hard and mean.

While she wasn’t disowned, for a few months, Walterine was a persona non grata.

She couldn’t eat some things, she needed to move her bedroom to the downstairs, she had to make room for the new baby, etc etc etc etc.

James had stepped up to be the role of the father to her baby. As emotionally wrought as Walt was, she was often caught between wanting to scream at him or to cry into his comforting arms.

Spoiler alert: she did both. There are times to this day that Walt wonders why he stuck around . . . but she is thankful for him being there all the more.

Add Bảo to this mix, and hello! We got one interesting family, ha ha.

If Walt had a chance to do it all again, she’d still keep Neha, and take James and Bảo as her lawfully wedded husbands.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Debut Performance — James

“‘Twas not in my time, 'twas not in your time, but it was in somebody's time that one of our people became the one we know as the Red Deer. We pay homage to our patron for their noble sacrifice to save our people.”

People around the bonfire whoop and cheer. James’s nerves settle a bit, and he continues—

“No one can agree what their name once was, but we can agree to call them An Ceann Ciúin: The Silent One.

“As a child, they were mute. While it was a hindrance in getting their point across to their people, An Ceann Ciúin’s bravery was unmatched in the battlefield.

“During one such battle, one of the bloodthirstiest gods we know joined the fray on our enemy’s side. Everyone was ready to throw down their arms and surrender or make a commitment to take their own lives, for being dead was better than a prisoner of the Alban.”

“BETTER TA BE DEAD THAN TORTURED!“

“OR BE A SLAVE!!!”

The crowd is a mix of laughter from the warrior’s antics, or a smattering of shushing from the other seanchaidhe, Oisín especially.

James waits for the rest of them calm down before he continues.

“An Ceann Ciúin, the mad lad—he gets a few laughs with that; his father shakes his head, but he smiles, nodding—armed with only their shield and swiftness, rammed themself through a slew of enemy warriors. They did not stop until the boss of his shield slammed into the god aiding the enemy. The wind properly knocked out of the deity, our ancestors caught the second wind they needed to rejoin the fight.

Everyone shifts, murmuring among themselves. James takes this as them readying themselves for what was to come.

“As An Ceann Ciúin looked upon the unconscious god, it’s with horror they saw. . . they saw. . .”

James stops, realizing the air around the bonfire had become tense. He wonders why; he wasn’t at the horrifying part of the story yet . . .

It’s then that James finally saw that his mother was standing upon one of the nearby stumps, eyes squinted toward the distant darkness.

“Mum?” James whispers.

Brígh cups her hands behind her ears, listening. James listens too, unsure what to listen for.

Ice freezes his heart, realizing what was going on. The trees were rustling more than usual, and there were marching footsteps in the distance.

He and the rest of the Banbha just about jump out of their skin as his mother grabs for her broadsword, screaming “SCOURGE O—”

A spear flies out of the darkness, impaling itself into her shoulder. The force of it takes her down hard, stunning her into the dirt.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Something’s Wrong With Lyra — Neha

They came back as soon as they heard that Vesuvia had re-opened their borders. It took them six months to get everything in order, and Neha could not be happier once they returned to Vesuvia.

First stop: Baba’s shop to see if Lyra was there.

As it turns out, she wasn’t there. Oddly enough, there was quite the layer of dust on everything . . .

That was fine: her sister was probably at The Shop! Neha made a beeline there immediately, not taking any time to say hi to their neighbors. She had more important business at hand!

When Neha got there, she was elated to see that The Shop was open. A customer had just left, leaving just enough room for Neha to squeeze in through the door.

“LYRA!!!” Neha calls out, grinning. “There you are! You made it!!!”

Lyra is behind the glass case, standing beside Asra. The latter seems alarmed by the fact Neha was right there, in the shop.

“Oh c’mon, can I get a hug?” Neha steps toward, arms outstretched.

“Neha wait—”

To both their horror, Lyra collapses to the ground, hitting her head on the counter.

“LYRA!?” Neha screams, rushing to kneel beside Lyra. “Ly, Ly, c’mon, this isn’t funny—”

Lyra’s eyes are wide open, but her pupils are constricted. Her eyes look so dull . . . what, what was going on!?

Asra swears under his breath. He reaches out to Lyra, holding her head in his hands, his thumbs over where the third eye chakra would be.

He whispers something, and a whorl of magic surrounds Lyra’s head before it dissipates into her skin.

Slowly, Lyra’s eyes close. She looks like she’s asleep . . .

“Asra, what the fuck!?” Neha whispers loudly, standing up as Asra scoops her up in his arms, turning to make the hike up to the upstairs bedroom. “Asra! Asra, what the fuck is wrong with her!?”

As the cloud-haired magician ascends to the top of the stairs, Walt opens the shop’s door, bewildered as her daughter starts to scream expletives at Asra, demanding answers.

Asra comes back down the stairs, and unbeknownst to Neha—she’s going through a lot, okay—Asra’s shoulders had the weight of the world three times over.

Walt holds Neha in her arms, hugging her daughter tight as the poor girl sobs into her chest.

Thanks for reading! See you all on the next one~.

#The Arcana #arcana eotp #fan apprentice #Asra #magicianapprenticelyra #OCs #OC x OC #oc x oc x oc #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #the scribe writes #regretful reminiscence #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: death

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Day 10: Cuisine

Do they have any sort of relationship with food? What they grew up eating or making for others?

@arcana-echoes

Bảo’s Cultural Inspiration: Vietnam

Bao’s relationship with food is all right. He misses the foods from where he grew up. When he cooks, he keeps his mother in mind, apologizing that what he’s making isn’t the same way she made it.

While he has found substitutions around Vesuvia to make some of his favorite plates, it isn’t the same.

His recipe for Leysan-style coffee is very popular with the dock workers in the early mornings.

Time and time again, my father has called Vietnamese Coffee drinkable crack. It will mess. You. Up if you have too much of it/cannot handle high doses of caffeine in one sitting.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Walterine’s Cultural Inspiration: Ghana and India

Favorite meal: Angwa mo

Favorite drink: Jigarthanda

Walterine grew up in Vesuvia and Prakra. Nothng beats her mother’s angwa mo, and jigarthanda on a hot summer day is the absolute ticket.

Between her and her husbands, Walterine actually has the sweet tooth. James always makes extra for her—and a couple cups of tea—when he’s making pastry orders for customers.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

James’s Cultural Inspiration: Ireland

Favorite meal: Skirts and kidneys

Favorite drink: Cider

Within the Aster-Nguyen household, James’s favorite meal is his and his alone. He survived mostly on that sort of stew when he was on his own, and he hopes his mother would be proud of him for being able to hunt for himself . . .

James loves ciders of all types. Apple is his favorite, whenever he could get his hands on any at least. He likes it hot in the morning, unless it’s one of Vesuvia’s very humid days.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Neha’s Cultural Inspiration: Ghana, India, and Whatever Vesuvia Is

Favorite food: Kulfi falooda

Favorite drink: Bissap (Hibiscus tea)

Neha likes her grandpa’s recipe for kulfi falooda. When she was much younger, she had it whenever she could. It got to the point she got sick and had to stay in bed for a few hours, but she’d say it was worth it each time.

Her love for bissap only happened after the Red Plague was over, to be honest. She has it sweet when she’s having a bad day, with a side of less cinnamon-y pumpkin bread.

Thanks for reading! I’ll see you guys on the next one. ^^

#The Arcana #arcana eotp #magicianapprenticelyra #moodboard #OCs #OC x OC #oc x oc x oc #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #the scribe writes

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

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Day 6: Friends

Who was their best friend when they were younger? Did they have a friend group? Were their siblings their friends?

@arcana-echoes

Yên — Bảo’s Only Betrothed

In general, Bảo was friends with the other queer kids in the village. They were, in one way or another, rallying against their parents for not accepting them as who they were. Yên, in comparison to the rest of the lot, is the odd one out.

At first, Bảo only knew her as the girl next door for a good chunk of his life. She was the girl that Quân thought would be a good match for Bảo. His line of thought hoped that Yên’s gentleness could calm down his son’s rebellious streak.

She did no such thing.

Nevertheless, Bảo straightened up whenever she was around. The ‘unfortunate’ thing was that Bảo did not feel for her the way his father wanted him to feel about her. The instant Bảo found out that Yên had started to develop feelings for him between their chaperoned outings together, he put an end to it.

Bảo snuck Yên out of her house one night, and told her point blank that despite what his father told her father, he was not a suitable match for her.

“I do not feel in any sort of way for you outside being as a friend . . . marriage won’t change it.”

“O-oh . . .”

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me. You’re a sweet girl; you’ll find a better match than me elsewhere. I’ll even help you, if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me . . .”

Yên found this to be extremely endearing, and accepted his offer. Before long, Yên was affianced to a nice young man that Bảo would have been happy to say was perfect for her.

The last time Bảo saw her was when he was banished from Leysương. She was spared from being banished, despite having been among the accused that she was an enemy spy. He’s sent letters back to her, letting her know that he and other survivors of the Massacre of Rồngkarst made it to a far-flung city-state called Vesuvia. He’s yet to get an answer, but he has hope he’ll get a response one day.

Sekani — Walterine’s Beau

Walt and Sekani had both grown up close to one another in Vesuvia. He was from the area right between Goldgrave and South End, and he wanted to be in the theater. At the time, the Community Theater wasn’t a proper establishment. It moved around a lot, albeit still within the district limits of Goldgrave.

When the two of them started getting interested in romantic relationships, the pair broke off and explored other people on their own. Surprisingly, they hadn’t considered the other to be a viable partner until Walt had her magic shop up and running something proper.

By this time as well, James was apprenticing under Selasi. It was at the bakery stand that Sekani often passed by, getting food for both himself and Walt at the family discounted price. Outside of work, James often heard Walt gush about Sekani, along with her other partners. Sekani wasn’t polyamorous, but he fully understood and accepted Walt wouldn’t be in an exclusive relationship with him. To everyone around them, Sekani and Walterine seemed almost inseparable . . .

Then, the day came when Sekani was conscripted. He was to be a part of Count Spada’s remaining campaigns for land in the name of Vesuvia. Walt and their shared friends threw him a party no one was going to forget. James even baked some food for it too, and Sekani hugged him so hard James almost turned purple in the face.

His last words to Walt were to take care of yourself.

His last words to James was keep an eye out for her, okay?

About three weeks into his service, reports came back that Sekani was officially Missing in Action. It’s also within this timeframe that Walt found out she was pregnant.

Within the year, a candle was lit in Sekani’s honor at Walt and James’s wedding. Everyone that knew him remembers him fondly, despite the fact there has never been a body found. Walt wishes that someone would, so that his family could finally be at peace.

Hunters, Fighters, Gatherers and Storytellers — James

Surprisingly, James was a friend to anyone that knew him in the Banbha. As ever, James never started drama, was a good listener, and never nosed into anyone’s business unless they made it his business.

Oisín’s occupation as a seanchaidhe gave James ins with most every group. James often moved about the whole settlement, making friends with most as he helped people with his father.

At festivities, James was the one that could clarify whether or not x y or z happened in a story, but he’d leave them all wiggle room because what is a story? It’s not set in stone, after all. Stories are always changing, one way or another.

In general, James was most at home with the Gatherers and the Storytellers. He had keen eyesight, usually the one tasked to make sure every picking of foliage from the surrounding areas would be edible for everyone. The other seanchaidhe within the tribe often welcomed James when he followed his father to meetings. Said meetings were to make sure of who was telling the stories that night, and which stories were to be told. Holidays and feast days were to be kept in mind, placing priority over some stories over others.

The Hunters and Fighters, more often than not, required him to spar first before he could get in a casual word with them. He never did well in spars, but James was often taken on easy mode, so to speak. The Fighters, for some reason or other, typically were protective of him in particular. Given James’s mother was the Banbha’s tactician, it was partly warranted.

James misses them all. He wished he knew whether or not that they’re all all right, but he would be a fool to believe that all of them made it out of the onslaught from the Scourge of the South.

Kids of South End and The Temple District — Neha

Neha grew up in the rowdy company of kids from South End, and a handful of them living in the Temple District. Both districts are where her Baba had friends living in, so playdates spanned across these two areas. Center City was their hangout for food, drink, and shopping, but their playgrounds were all over the place.

Before the Red Plague struck Vesuvia, effectively wiping out a large chunk of Vesuvia’s population, Neha had a hard time keeping track of who was who and where they lived. Nowadays, she’s one of a handful of kids that actually survived the Red Plague. She was one of the lucky ones that got out of the city-state before Nadia ordered a lockdown.

These days, everyone’s a touch more somber. When they all got together on weekends and such, Neha and her group of friends would visit the memorial in the Temple District. It was specifically dedicated to the lives of all the kids lost to the Red Plague. Neha helped to pitch it up with the adults. To say the least, she holds her memories of them all dearly.

Thanks for reading this far! See you on the next one.

#The Arcana #arcana eotp #magicianapprenticelyra #OCs #OC x OC #oc x oc x oc #Uncle Bảo #Walterine Aster #James Aster #Neha Aster #the scribe writes

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