#great steppes

[medievalistsnet]

#history #world history #xiongnu #steppe #Great Steppe

[swiftcast-selene]

been thinking about how hard MSQ must be on the body, especially for someone who isn't exactly in the best shape of their life. must be hard to keep up with the warrior of light! which ended up in a couple studies of how Negi's carried his weight through the whole adventure, with a couple extra mostly-non-spoilery notes on each expac~

#ffxiv #ffxiv art #ffxiv miqo'te #miqo'te #ff14 #negi bloodpath #images should be id'ed ik my handwriting is hard to parse lol #essentially though. i wanted him to go thru a Journey body-wise because i always drew him kind of the exact same and i wanted to figure out #how exactly it would Affect him to have to catch up with the wol because for a time it is Very hard for him to do that. #with Sagra being a seasoned warrior from the Steppe and him “just” being a little herbalist failed conjurer he has like #a hard time feeling like he deserves to be by his side? and feeling like he deserves his place in the Scions #because so far he'd only been assigned to a couple lower stakes jobs #and then to Sagra and then it got. very serious very fast! #but after a while he figures like. well god damn it if no one else will do it. i fucking will. #and i'll do a GREAT JOB OF IT!!! #overpowering his anxiety just out of pure spite #then shb happens and kind of puts a wrench in that but he does get better. sheer force of will he does get better. #but that's too much to get into in tags LMAOO and we haven't rped it yet so it's still In The Air #taking between patch time to cement him before dawntrail comes he's gotten really good after ew but he deserves to be PERFECT by dt!!!!!! #my little fucking man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #my art

[sneez]

tervis (oc) sightings

/ id: three screenshots from the video game pathologic. tervis, a hunched figure wearing long hooded robes and carrying a walking staff, has been digitally painted into each scene. the first shows tervis crouching on a metal walkway between two buildings in the factory district. the second shows tervis with their hand pressed against an infected house, looking balefully out into the night. the third shows tervis sitting against the wall of the railway station, observing the trains. end id. /

#artwork #pathologic #tervis #it is my terv...........my tervy.............my tervlet #ive been having so much fun doing these :-D highly recommend if you have an oc and some screenshots to stick them in it is so rewarding #ive changed around a few things re patho tervis i formerly said she lives in the steppe but now ive decided shes got a nest in the factory #district somewhere. makes a lot more sense for him i think #ive also changed his staff it used to be a wooden one but ive changed it into a bit of rebar which shes bent into a hook shape at the top #he uses it for pulling himself up onto things. hes got every physical problem imaginable but hes a weirdly strong little guy #it's my attempt to replicate the creepiness of 40k tervis swarming up walls and scuttling around in the vents. not quite as unsettling but #it would still look very weird i imagine #anyway i hope you are all doing well my friends i miss you im so sorry i havent been on much recently #well i have been on. im here every day. i never leave. but i havent really said much #mostly because of work and exams and things :-/ im almost finished though!!! a few more weeks and im Fwee......bachelor ned......wahoo :-D #not quite yet though. in the meantime i shall continue to draw tervises with great gusto

[meirimerens]

god thank you for your response to that person I'm so tired of seeing takes that are like "the kin/the town are a 1:1 representation of the buryats" cuz... they're not... and honestly trying to hammer that point down comes off as quite insulting to the real and actual people they're supposedly represent.

the kin differs from the buryats by their economical system, faith and even medicine methods. the closest thing is the language cuz surprise, unless you're tolkien, coming up with a whole fictional language is hard

well, thank you, i'll guess. i'm not trying to start beef with nobody so everybody behave otherwise daddy's gonna get rude.

i also truly fully whole-heartedly believe the replier has no ill-intention, and probably has great love for the Kin (hence why they entered the discussion). it is also from great love for the Kin that i made the original post, AND from great love that i made my reply to the reply, which i felt ignored some issues that have for years been brought up + decided to seek the opinions of others who have more #knowledge than me.

wrt the kin i'm trying to like, be as... wide in my scope of it as i can and understand that yes, imaginary, bunch of shit not real, but also, very much real inspirations, and in these blurred lines of inspirations/imagination lies..... won't lie some racist biases, and perhaps what we could call intellectual colonialism: taking bits and pieces of real-life cultures for your Storey, while maybe not...... handling it.... the best........ again, i'm not like. The Best Person For The Job because. my sibling on this green earth i'm franco-french. but i try my best to read and listen what is said about the Kin by people for who their (mis)treatment matters most, and most of what i'm reading is. like Not Praise. ykwim..... i have no way of knowing if you, personally, are buryat or mongol or [...] & it's none my business, so i don't know how much of a horse you got in this race, but i'm trying to like. see things. a topic that demands careful examination and multiple perspectives? in the Multiple Perspectives video games? that's crazy.

there's also to me [as a storytellah] the fact that if patho wanted to fully represent all the peoples it is inspired by 1) it would be even more of a hodgepodge, and somewhat even more disrespectful, because the buryat and the mongols, while both Mongolic, are... not the same... they have different names for gods, places, different cosmogonies, [...]. the fact is, patho has multiple inspirations, and like. they're not... interchangeable... because central asian cultures are not interchangeable...... not monolithic......... and 2) it would make it so they can't go as quirky with the story as they did. the religion, the practices, the cosmogonies are invented (if inspired), and are not 1:1 to actual cultures. making it 1:1 to actual cultures would be disrespectful because you'd just... shove a new, fake religion upon these actually-existing peoples. or, you would have to write within the religious traditions of these peoples, which make it so. well. no living beating heart under the town, no albinos, no herb brides, no worms. you can make documentary-like games (i'd argue you should), but i think another thing that can/should be done is games by indigenous people about indigenous people and myths/stories, in the vein of "Never Alone (Kisima Ingitchuna)", by Iñupiat people, with an Iñupiaq main character, about Iñupiat stories/myths. we've discussed it in the big guy but lead writer D., being 1/16 Chinese, perhapssss doesn't really have the same relationship to the Central Asian cultures the Kin is inspired by as someone who is Buryat, or white/Buryat (like artemy), would have.

but at this core, i don't think patho wants to full represent the people it's inspired by. it's a story. it's interested in making a story. to me it appears it's interested in making associations and parallels, maybe even homages?, but never actual direct correlations or representation (which itself can be another discussion. the kin is obviously central asian, from central-asian inspirations: how much of it can be seen as representation? how much of it as appropriation?) it makes up fake people for its fake town dealing with its fake illness. all of those have foundations, have obvious, legible roots, but they're not the same, and i'd argue it's... more disrespectful pretending the kin is 100% [ethnicity] (because. uh. [70 pages document about the mistreatment of the Kin])

(i also think this... """blurred line"""... allows for a... in-game and out-of-game [esp. fandom] a certain like. distance. or maybe suspension of disbelief. about the racism. like "oh, they're not a real culture, therefore i'm not showing Actually Racist(tm) biases when i depict members of the Kin as engaging in ritualistic sexual abuse, as being sexually violating or violent,..., because they're Not Real, so it's okay" which is. methinks somewhat braindead take. seen with my two eyes against my will to be fair)

tldr

An Imaginary People that's Not Real while taking from obvious inspirations because that's what you do when you write a story; you make shit up, especially if you plan on getting quirky wit it in ways no Actual Culture is because you're putting. Worms and the living beating Heart under the town and a Tower that defies the laws of physics (fake and gay?) and nobody.. has those. + it'd be way weirder if those women you're killing and making sexualize themselves were meant to be Real Ethnicity. i'd argue that'd be worse. so yeah. imagined. HOWEVERRRRRR[1][2][3][4][5]

#i keep repeating myself but i reiterate i'm sure lead writer's ancestry Does influence his work and his game(s) i'm sure of it. i'm sure it #influenced his vision of the Kin. & i got no ground to stand on personally about this. but 1) different And Not Interchangeable ethnicities #2) a chinese great-grandmother is not the same as a central asian father. in the same way the Kin is not a 1:1 to any culture; artemy is no #a 1:1 to dybowski. #THANK GOD! (cf. : the allegations) #ring ring (answers) #anonymous #tldr complex. also i'm not the best person to talk bout these things but as someone who storytells + makes shit up + loves loves LOVEEESS #to learn about cultures all across the steppe [& their relation to the environment SPECIFICALLY] i'm like. we treading lightly. we treading #but lightly. and carefully.

[akirakirxaa]

My saturday TTRPG group is going to be playing Legend of the Five Rings, so I decided to use my gposing abilities for good by making my character with them. I've yet to name her but she's in the Unicorn clan from the Utaku family.

#ffxiv #gposing #it is so hard to make a highlander look asian #but i wanted her to be tall and buff #also posing the extra weapons was actually kinda fun #non ffxiv oc #legend of the five rings #l5r #ttrpg character #ttrpg oc #and the steppe made a great backdrop

[ratmanwalking]

Sunny weather gets me feeling like I'm possessed by a wild horse

#i neeeeed to run the great eurasian steppe is waiting for meee

[good-night-space-kid]

I don’t think people realize just how unpopulated most of the Great Plains actually are. There’s a 115 mile stretch between Bismarck, North Dakota and Mobridge, South Dakota where you literally cannot cross the Missouri River. There’s really only three cities of any size on I-94 through the entire state of North Dakota. Everything else you pass has a gas station and <1000 people. It’s the best.

#the Great Plains >>> every other biome #the steppe is so pretty #but I do think if you haven’t been through a plains state you don’t actually know how empty they are #the plains are so gorgeous though truly an under appreciated environment #if you’ve never been to the steppe you should visit #I know Ukraine isn’t the place to go on a holiday right now but it’s soooo high on my list of places to visit #because I want to see the European steppe so bad

[tovaicas]

btw re: my opinions on StB, I kinda tapped out on caring abt it at the ‘gosetsu fails to understand the concept of trans people, how funny heehee haha’ scene and imo it didn’t really get much better from there, so it’s smth I rip apart particularly scathingly bc some of it’s choices actively make me angry

#spoilers #the steppe and beyond is abt when I start getting actually angry abt stb's writing lmfao #before then I was kinda just. oh this isn't super great but let's see how it goes #saint.txt

[prokopetz]

Something I love about The Far Roofs is how much of a swerve its premise is if you're coming to it uninitiated.

Okay, so there's these talking rats with a culture of swashbuckling heroism – basic Redwall/Reepicheep stuff.

Also, there's a magical realm called the Far Roofs which exists above every human community, and that's where the rats go adventuring; a little weird, but you can see the precedents in popular fiction. It's like wainscot fantasy taken to its logical-yet-absurd conclusion.

By default, the game wants you to play as a fictionalised version of your (presumably human!) self and go up onto the Far Roofs to have adventures with the rats. All right, now it's coming together: it's like isekai fantasy meets The Muppet Show, with you as the obligatory human character, right?

Then we get to the nature of those adventures: the rats have this whole culture built around questing against beings they call "the Mysteries" – beasties with names like Harpy and Goblin and Unicorn. So basically it's a bunch of muppety rats on the roofs fighting Dungeons & Dragons monsters, and you go up and help them do it. Great.

And then you get to what the Mysteries are actually like, and... well, I'm going to let the following excerpt carry the weight here. (This particular bit of text also appears in a previously published work by the same author, so I'm not giving anything away that's still under wraps.)

Unicorn, which is named Numinous, dwells three steps away and beyond the world, but most often in the Farthest Roofs, where the Steppes of the Sky come down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court. There it is stepping upwards from the world, as it has always been stepping upwards from the world, caught in a moment of transcendent glory that does not complete. It simply is. Melanthios heard the footsteps of Unicorn. Melanthios heard the ringing of Unicorn’s bells. So Melanthios chased Unicorn off to the Farthest Roofs, and Melanthios did not return. Anton and Karel, who were his sons, were wiser than their father. They heard the bells but they did not follow. Instead, they memorized the scent. They gathered swords, and ropes, and nets, and they went out. They brought food and water and all manner of gear. They clung to the roofs with all four feet wheresoever after Unicorn they went. It proved no good. Anton looked up, and Karel to his brother. The world came down— That’s what Karel said. He had time to look away. He had time to bury his head in his paws. He did not see the fullness of Unicorn’s presence. He only saw Anton his brother become unreal. In the light of the moment of the Unicorn, Anton became as a paper figure in the fire. His reality burned out. His shadow seared into the roofs behind him. Where he’d stood, for just a moment, the Steppes of the Sky came down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court; and Anton was gone away. So Karel ran and Karel ran and Karel ran from the Unicorn; and all his life, he envied but was more fortunate than his brother.

These are gods. You're going up there to kill God.

Like, it's still silly wainscot fantasy with funny talking rats, but there's that tension. It's like if Fraggle Rock occasionally took a hard turn to serious cosmic horror – Lord Dunsany by way of Jim Henson – and that tonal juxtaposition was treated as something unremarkable.

Basically what I'm saying is go back The Far Roofs.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #the far roofs #dr. jenna moran #crowdfunding #kickstarter #violence mention #death mention

[wanderingokali]

A species of blep from cold steppes. Like most species of furred tetrapods, it keeps its young in a pouch for months until they are hardy enough to run about and eat solid food. It eats lichens, roots and mosses primarily, but is an opportunistic scavenger if those prove scarce. It lives in groups of variable sizes, with complex familial dynamics, but these groups can be spread out over great distances; they communicate by loud bellows that cover long distances despite great winds.

#okali #fantasy #wandering okali #species #art #graphi's things #worldbuilding #speculative biology #specbio #xenofiction #creature design

[jeannereames]

Sharing in case there are grad students or other young scholars interested. Outside my wheelhouse, but I'd be very interested in at least hearing/reading the papers, if any are on Zoom. (In person conference in Paris)

Not the updated deadline for abstracts. You got a month (posting this on 5/31/23).

#Alexander the Great #Hellenistic World #Hellenistic Central Asia #Ancient Central Asia #CFP Hellenistic Central Asia Research Network #ancient Persia #Ancient Baktria #ancient Sogdiana #ancient Asian steppes #ancient India

[judasvibe]

finding a name for castiel's hypothetical daemon is so hard like it HAS to be an ancient name, it has to predate the christian era.... and not mean something like 'wife-of' or 'cute and pretty' because this is castiel we're talking about here....

#leaning towards some ancient hittite mythical figures of war and steppe here #and sometimes i think ancient mongol or sanksrit names would hit hard but there is less #logical basis for that. i just think they sound great.

[annelidist]

consistently one of the most interesting things to me about the bachelor is this: he is a mystic. he doesn't admit it, of course, not for one instant. daniil dankovsky positions himself against the world as the rationalist, the empiricist, the reasonable man. he doesn't believe in steppe man-eaters or little girls who talk to ghosts or mistresses or taglurs or foci or great slumbering bulls beneath the world. all of that is nonsense. backwater superstition. worthless as soil. what he does believe, starkly, shamelessly, as if unaware of the naked wizardry of the thing, is that he can cure death. this is the first fact the player learns about him and yet it's so easy to forget, so easy to let him wear his reasonable mask, as if he isn't as mad as an alchemist. i think, in the end, that's why he can walk the inner stair of the polyhedron, see the magic lantern: because the bachelor already believes in the impossible and the eternal, deeply, beyond question.

#bones.txt #pathologic

[thagomizersshow]

I've seen a few people on my steppe post struggling to decipher what's going on in this photo:

This is a displaying male great bustard and they normally look like this:

They're also probably the heaviest flying birds, out weighing swans and condors. The biggest specimens are found in Manchuria and can be heavier than your average kindergartener.

[darktripz]

WINDSWEPT - The Great Cold Steppe & WINDSWEPT - The Onlooker

DRUDKH - Microcosmos & DRUDKH - Лебединий Шлях (The Swan Road)

#dread records #f​imbulvinter productions #black metal #windswept #The Onlooker #The Great Cold Steppe #DRUDKH #The Swan Road #Лебединий Шлях #Microcosmos #cassettes #tapes

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 1 - El Paso

Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut - MDNI

The darkness within her became his obsession. She was his. Didn’t she know? When Azriel spies his wicked mate with another male, when he kills that male, what he knows as life shifts eternally. No longer is there life. No longer is there death. There is only Felina. Felina who has many secrets.

Series Masterlist - Part 2

Warnings: threat of self-harm/suicide, assumed character death (you’ll see), implied rape/non-con (some gross, shitty males discussing it in a tavern), dub-con, violence, obsession, dark themes, sexual content

One hour ago

Rhysand

All Rhys knew was that when Azriel returned from what was supposed to be a short inspection of the Illyrian war camps, he was different. His shadows whirred violently; his eyes… there was a darkness in them that he’d not seen even within the depths of harrowing interrogations; and while his scent remained his usual cedar chilled mist an iron tang tinged it.

“Az?” Rhys asked cautiously, trailing his brother up the stairs

“Not now.” Azriel growled, clenched fists shaking, pupils blown wide, sweat beading his brow.

Rhys said nothing more, following the frantic male to his room. Well- until Azriel slammed the door shut in his face.

Message received.

A few minutes later, Azriel re-emerged into the living area, a packed duffel bag in tow.

“Az? Talk to me.” Rhys pleaded. Fighting against the urge to dive into his mind. Azriel’s shields were ironclad but Rhys could break through them if absolutely necessary.

“Just stop. I’m fine.” Azriel growled.

He sure as shit didn’t look fine.

“I need to go handle some personal things. I have never asked for leave for anything. Can you please just allow me a couple of weeks?”

The High Lord’s brows creased, voice raising “Weeks? With no provided reasoning?”

“I said that it was personal.”

“As your employer, I can accept that it’s personal. As your family, Az, come on. What happened?”

“I’m leaving whether you grant me this or not.”

Azriel and Rhysand had many battle-of-wills over the years but this was different. Rhys could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.

And Azriel’s demeanor - Fuck, he’d always been dangerous but he was outright predatory in the moment.

Rhys shook his head. “I should kick your ass for talking to me like this but fine - go. Two weeks, Azriel, and then you’re back here or I tear the world apart looking for you. You aren’t abandoning us without reason. I will not accept it.”

Azriel’s only response was a tick of the jaw before stepping out the front door and launching skyward at breakneck speed.

Rhys spent the next hour nursing a glass of whiskey, fighting an internal battle of leaving his brother be or going to find him. Just when he began to lose that battle and head out searching, Cassian burst through the door. His hair disheveled from the wind and caked with blood, his eyes puffy and red as if he’d been crying the entire flight.

Rhys froze in his tracks at the sight of his brother who took a few steps forward before falling to the floor, knees giving out as he let out a deep, world-shattering scream.

Rhys sent his darkness to caress his mind, gently prodding for what could have left Cassian in such a state only to be met with crushing waves of grief. Rhys pushed his consciousness with great effort to cut through the viscous surge of emotion desperate for any sense of clarity.

He’d almost reached his own daemati limit when he was abruptly greeted by flashes of memory. Snow painted bright-red with blood. Azriel laying limp. Ash arrows littering his body. Lifeless hazel eyes. Long dark hair. Red lips. Eyes darker than night. Sounds of a female voice screaming. Tears falling onto blood coated hands.

Suddenly Rhys was thrust from Cassian’s mind as he fought against the induced slumber. Cassian’s body shuttered as tears broke free once again. His words slurred as he tried to communicate within his half dazed state, “Go. Ste-steppes.” Another broken sob. “Az is d- Oh gods!” He cried out. “Dead. And s-she’s”

“Who?” Rhys’ mind flashed to the female crouched over Azriel, screaming.

“Oh fuck, R-rhys. Go!!!”

Cassian fell back into his dream state before Rhys could press further.

Rhys willed himself to remain as calm as possible. Fighting to keep his mental voice steady before the grief could overtake him as he called for Amren and Feyre.

Elain, who had been in the garden, would stay with Nyx. Amren would keep an eye on Cassian and throw additional wards up, while Feyre retrieved Nesta from the House of Wind. Once Feyre returned she would be able to soothe his mind.

Feyre’s mental voice wavered, heartbreak surging through the bond at the news, but she agreed to keep details private until Rhys understood exactly what had happened.

——————

Three weeks ago

Azriel

War Camp inspections had a way of bringing out the worst in Azriel. As if his tolerance level for Illyrians was not already at a miniscule level, these inspections always seemed to inflate the egos of the Illyrians. Camp Lords and their cronies marching into meetings with puffed out chests and mouths spewing hatred particularly grated on his typically infallible patience.

Azriel had been staying at the River House for some time now, carefully avoiding Elain as much as possible, and trying his best to avoid giving Rhys anything to pull rank over. And fuck, he was so tired after a day of negotiations. With nothing but tension awaiting him at home and overwhelming fatigue, he found himself at a shitty Inn in the Illyrian Steppes.

He’d seated himself at a small corner table, shrouding himself in shadow as he observed the belligerent patrons of Rosa’s Cantina, a shoddy tavern attached to the Inn.

“Witch.” He heard a group of males call her. Their eyes fixed on a stunning female swaying her hips in time to the music flowing from a rickety piano at the front of the bar.

Remaining silent, the Spymaster listened to the ruddy males lecherous conversation.

“I wouldn’t mind being under her spell.”

“You’ll sooner find your balls nailed to a stake than completion - even with tits like that it’s not worth it.”

Azriel snarled to himself. Even outside of the Illyrian camps, the males in the Steppes were abhorrent. Backwards in every way. The woman continued twirling, her raven-black hair flowing with each movement of her supple body.

“Not if I tie her down first.” A burly male chimed in, his slurred voice gruff.

“I’ll bet you five marks that you won’t survive the encounter with all of your appendages.”

“Look at what the whore is wearing. She wants it whether she knows or not.”

The brute of a male stumbled up to her and Azriel sighed to himself, he really didn’t want to get into it tonight. But….

The male put his greasy hands on her and Azriel instantly jolted upright, preparing to step in. She tried pulling away as the male yanked her into him. The female whirled in his arms, looking up to him like a lover. The male immediately dropped his arms, palms in the air as if placating a wild animal, he began stepping away slowly. When he turned around, Azriel noticed the blood drained from his face as he threw gold marks on the table and immediately left the cantina. The males only laughed and went back to their drinking.

“Wicked Felina” they called her.

“Eh? How much money have you won off the males she scares away now?” One of the patrons chimed in.

“Enough to cover these boys.” The male slapped the new pair of leather boots adorning his feet.

Azriel hadn’t seen what the male saw in her face when she looked to him but his shadows whispered to him.

“Darkness”

“Like calls to like”

“Look”

And maybe it was the stale mead he’d downed but he did. He strode right up to the female and could have sworn he felt time stand still as the patrons of the bar watched.

He didn’t touch her, only spoke in a low tone, “May I have a dance?”

The female whirled towards him and Azriel had to fight to keep his footing steady. Before him stood the most breathtaking female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes met his and his heart sputtered as he stared into the depth of them. Blacker than night, constellations and blood and something “other” swimming inside of them. He could sense her darkness and instead of his typical urge to question, it drew him in like metal to a magnet.

As she took him in, he heard her heart skip a beat for only a moment, before that darkness invaded his senses once again. No, it wasn’t darkness to run away from at all. It was alluring, captivating, dangerous. And he wanted to drink it all in.

“You are a brave male.” She spoke with a slight, unfamiliar accent. So similar to those of Velaris but with something else mixed in.

Azriel’s shadows whirled around the female, winding through her hair and between her fingers. She didn’t balk from them, she only remained intensely focused on him.

Her scent surrounded them and he couldn’t breathe the female in deeply enough.

An hour later he found himself driving into her. Her breasts bouncing so beautifully that he nearly came from the sight alone. He’d spent so long fisting his cock as he fantasized of Elain that he’d forgotten just how glorious the feel of a tight cunt wrapped around him felt. And this female, Felina, her moans were like a sirens call, drawing him so deeply into her that he didn’t know where she ended and he begun.

He would have gone slowly with her, tenderly, worshipped every centimeter of cool, exposed skin, but she had begged him so prettily to fuck her until she forgot what she was. Who was he to deny a female who knew exactly what she wanted. He’d never fucked a female so hard and still she pleaded for more, sensing that he was holding back. When he finally let go of his restraint, he had to dig his nails into her moonlight pale flesh just to keep her from sliding away. She bit her lip and held his gaze through every thrust. Those damning eyes looking at him like she could read every fucking tendril of his own inner-void.

When she came, he came with her. The Inn shaking with the intensity of their combined orgasms. As he came down from the high, the darkness in her eyes banked momentarily a deep, blue flashing in them before once again overtaking them. He gasped sharply as a snap yanked in his chest. Gold tethering him to her.

“Mate” his shadows sang

“Our mate, our mate.”

Azriel’s breathing grew frantic. She climbed out of the bed, her exposed backside red from the slaps he’d pressed to her round ass. “Did you feel that?”

She turned her head over her shoulder, those eyes meeting his again. “Feel what?”

Azriel’s heart sank. “Nothing.”

“Hm.” She shrugged. “Intresting.” And poured a glass of water from a pitcher on an oak dresser with nonchalance. As if they hadn’t just had life-altering sex, like the ground itself hadn’t shook with the force of their coupling.

Her mouthwatering breasts bounced with each step toward him, her lightly toned abdomen baring silver, faded scars.

“Who gave you those?” Azriel asked.

“I’m as willing to talk about them as you are about those.” She nodded toward his hands.

Touché

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” She stated before bringing his head to her chest and running delicate fingers through his hair until he drifted into a deep slumber full of darkness and a golden thread.

When he woke, she was gone.

And he would have thought he’d dreamt it all, had it not been for the nearly-healed crescent moon imprint of her nails littering his body. He hummed in satisfaction at the sight.

He only hoped that next time she’d leave marks deep enough to scar. He should have staked his claim on her too.

——————

Two weeks ago

Azriel

He searched for her, frantically, day in and day out but she was nowhere to be found. How could he have found his mate and been so foolish to lose her in such a short period of time. He hadn’t even told her his name.

Eventually, he had to take pause, and venture into the camps due to a couple of missing Illyrians. Through his questioning, he’d found that the males were shaking, reporting a fanged creature that swept from the trees and picked off several of their men, one by one. When they returned to reclaim the bodies, all that was left were scattered body parts. Fingers, tongues, and cocks mostly.

He remembered the whispers in the taverns of “Wicked Felina.” Surely it was just paranoia.

Azriel returned to the tavern each night, hiding outside within his shadows. She was never there.

His patience was infallible, no amount of space or time would deter him. He would find his mate, he would embrace that pit of darkness dwelling within her - even if she were the creature the men were speaking of. She hadn’t hurt him, she’d only awoken something within him. His Felina may be dark but she is not the villain. She couldn’t be.

He pushed the sight of the ghostly pale brute running away from her at Rosa’s far into the back of his mind.

——————

One week ago

Azriel

Something tugged at him that night, urged him to find her again. Felina had become the focal point of his thoughts, consumed with her 24/7.

He was a desperate male, he wanted - no, needed - to know every piece of this dark anomaly. Mind, body, spirit. He’d sought someone whose light cast upon his obsidian soul for so long - finding hope in the radiant enigma that is Mor and the gentle, sweet presence of Elain. But all along the mother knew he needed someone who could step into his shadow and find solace. When Felina stared into his eyes, he knew she saw it, saw home. He saw it in her too.

She was so new to him and yet so familiar.

His brothers would tell him he was infatuated, that this was just another Mor, but they would be so far from the truth. This was a need, as essential to him as water or air. He thrummed with desire for his Wicked Felina.

She was the other half of his soul and he would not lose out on the opportunity to make her his.

Tonight was the night, she’d be there, he felt it deep within.

And she was.

Not inside. No, in a dark corner of the alley adjacent to Rosa’s Cantina. With a silver haired High-Fae male, nearly as tall as Azriel, muscled, well-groomed.

And she - her back was pressed against the wall. Her head flung back from the crook of his neck it where her face had been burrowed, pure ecstasy written all over those seductive features. A moan escaping her plush lips.

And then he saw it. Blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

No.

No.

This couldn’t be.

He HURT her. She didn’t want this. Didn’t she know that he was her soul-bonded mate? She wouldn’t fuck someone in the dark corner of an alley willingly.

Didn’t she know she was better than that? Didn’t she know she was everything?

Visions of the scars on her abdomen and of the male who joked about tying her down to have his way with her came to mind.

No. Not his Felina. Nobody would harm her now that she was his.

Azriel didn’t think further as he barreled for them, unsheathing truth-teller and slitting the males throat before he could even lock eyes with him.

Felina let out a quiet inhale of shock, onyx eyes blown wide.

“No. No. No.” She dropped to the male. Her nostrils flaring at the sight of him, his bloodied neck, checking for a pulse.

There was none.

Felina looked up to him with near-black, pleading eyes. “Azriel.”

And despite the peril of the moment, the fact that he clearly misread the situation, his name rolling off those pretty red lips made it all worth it.

Until the thought occurred to him. He’d never told her his name. “How?”

“Az….” Her voice cracked, the slightest bit of silver lined her eyes before darkness began radiating from her, rage filling those deeper than night eyes. Her voice became cold, deadly. “I told you that curiosity was dangerous.”

Shouts from bystanders rang out, creating panic among the villagers.

“You need to go now. They’ll recognize you.”

He paused, mouth gaping as she looked to him. He knew what she was saying but remained frozen in place.

“Azriel, please!” She cried.

There it was. His name again. Had she been as taken by him as he was by her? Had she sought him out too?

It was then that she unsheathed a dagger and held it to her own throat. “If you don’t leave, I will end it all right now.”

If he’d have looked closely, he would have seen the way her hand shook, the way she couldn’t quite touch the blade to her pale skin.

“I will find you again, Felina.” He vowed - threatened - Don’t even think about escaping me. You’re mine.

“Go.” She mouthed.

——————

Four hours ago

Azriel

Staying away for days was impossible. When she’s wander at night, he’d watch her from afar, remaining unseen. The small village mourned the dead male, apparently the esteemed ruler of this shit hole place. He caught glimpses of a mourning Felina. He felt something in the bond but he couldn’t quite make it out.

Resentment, perhaps? Jealousy? Longing?

And despite the black apparel she donned through the village, her face remained neutral with only a tinge of sadness.

Villagers whispered as she walked by. She paid them no mind.

He imagined they likely suspected the death was over her. Azriel’s shadows reported he had a wife. Why would his Felina sleep with a married male? If he was willing to cheat on his wife with her, he couldn’t have been a good male. Azriel did right by the females for eliminating him from the picture, right?

It was then that a flash of auburn appeared. The male’s wife with several large males behind her carrying torches. “Whore!” She spat. “Only fucking my husband wasn’t good enough, was it?”

“You had to sleep around with another male, one you surely had under your spell, just as you had with mine. You vile witch! And now my husband is dead because some enchanted soul grew jealous over you. You will burn for this!”

Suddenly she was placed in shackles, his shadows zooming into her vision. She must have noticed them as she whipped her head searching for him. She mouthed “no”, shaking her head in the direction his shadows raced off to. They came back.

“Blue not black. Blue not black.”

“Still beating. Still beating.”

“Mate. Mate. Mate.”

It was then that wings burst out of her back. Like Illyrian wings but white, the light casting a holographic range of gentle hues of blues and purple, and pinks. Talons emerged from her nails, but her lovely face remained impassive.

His shadows stirred aggressively.

“Alike. Alike. Alike.”

Another shadow shot back to him, beginning to report something when Azriel saw the pyre lighting in town as the villagers threw obscenities in her direction.

Felina held her head high, accepting her fate so easily.

The fire grew and Azriel once again acted on instinct. They couldn’t take her from him. And to burn her? Rage roared within him.

Azriel flew in, obliterating the large males jerking her toward the fire.

“The Shadowsinger!” someone cried out. Azriel saw nothing but Felina and the rising flames. Never would his mate be subjected to licks of flame marring her flesh. She was far too precious to burn.

Anyone who tried to lay hands on he or Felina were eviscerated. “The key!” She cried, pointing to a dead male. She ran toward it. Azriel launched in front of her, his speed overtaking hers as he retrieved it. She caught the key but her talons made it impossible to unlock the chains quickly. Azriel grabbed the key, unshackling her, the talons and wings disappearing.

“We have to go!” She shouted. Azriel caught her, launching skyward, right as an arrow shot toward them, and straight into Azriel’s back. He fought through it, he had to get her to safety. Another arrow flew through the air, narrowly missing Felina. The attempt on his mate triggering a knee-jerk reaction in Azriel who turned to send a blast of power at the bastard shooting the arrows.

He was struck in the side as another arrow met him. Azriel shot another blast of power in the direction that it came from.

Azriel could feel power rumbling under Felina’s surface. “We don’t have time! You’re hurt.”

Azriel bit back a cry at the pain radiating through his body, the blood not slowing as it should. He began feeling faint, fevered. He struggled through it, needing to make it as far away as he could but his vision began to blur as his body weakened. Felina was crying out something but he couldn’t hear her. All there was was pain and the cool press of her body against his. Gods, she was so cold.

“We need to land, Azriel! You can’t make it further.” She commended. He felt the sting of her palm on his face. “Wake up! Land!”

The slap along with her frantic voice roused Azriel enough to land them, very roughly. He crashed down on top of her.

“Felina….” He rasped.

“Shh.” She hushed him. “Save your breath. I’m okay.” Reassuring him through staggered breaths. “We need to get you to help.”

Azriel placed a hand on hers. “Too far. There’s nothing.”

“There’s got to be something!” She choked out.

Commotion erupted from the trees as a group of males from the village drew toward them. Their torches lighting the night and their bows drawn and ready.

Azriel used the little remaining might he had to push himself up. Felina throwing herself on top of him, her hands coated in his blood.

“I’m sorry for this, Azriel.” She spoke and ripped the poisoned arrow out of him, stabbing it right into her bicep. “Fuck!” She cursed. Suddenly the talons and wings were back. Her scent shifted into something so fucking familiar that it made Azriel’s heart ache, and screams echoed as she shot bursts of power at them. The range was short and the damage limited but it slowed them.

A commotion distracted the group of males as flares of red shot from the brush. A large winged male approaching from the night.

“Cass.” Felina whispered in awe.

Azriel’s vision went dark again, his conscious only picking up on words as the males screaming became less and less with each blast of power from Cassian and Felina.

A light caress came over Azriel’s mind, stroking it into submission, his pain easing. This was it. He wasn’t going to make it out of here.

And at that moment the caress broke free, Felina releasing a piercing scream. He tried moving, tried to console his mate, but the arrow that had just lodged in his heart was too much.

Azriel fought to see her one last time, her darkened eyes now shining like the night itself.

“Mate.” He whispered.

“I know, Azriel. I know.” She sobbed. Caressing his face with those delicate, chilly hands.

All Azriel remembered was the darkness embracing him once again. The pain easing as he heard Cassian’s voice.

“How?” Cassian’s booming voice cracked.

“Later, Cassian. He needs help.” Her voice was so pitiful. Broken.

Azriel’s breathing grew so shallow, that sweet darkness lulling him, even his shadows were silent. All he saw in his mind was her but she was fading. Her touch no longer registering to his senses.

He tried fighting it but there was no use as Azriel took his final breath.

“He’s dead, Cassian.”

——————

Two hours ago

Cassian

Cassian had never flown so fast in his life.

Oh gods, his brother was dead. The female, she refused to leave his side until he left to get Rhys.

His mind roared at him that he should have brought her with him. But why? Who was she?

Who was she to Azriel?

All he could remember as the tears flowed freely was that his brother was dead. That he heard the call for help from the village, that the Shadowsinger had gone mad, only to find a group of men on the attack and his brother incapacitated.

He had to get to Rhys quickly and let him know about Azriel, about the female.

——————

Present

Rhysand

Rhys winnowed to the vicinity of where Cassian had been in the memories when he’d held his mind. He flew until he found the bodies of several men. This was the clearing Cassian had been in and in the center of the clearing was caked blood.

Caked blood and no Azriel. No female.

But the blood, there was so much. He couldn’t have survived.

Right?

——————

Two hours ago

Azriel

The darkness on Azriel’s mind eased only slightly. The crippling pain too much to bear.

He opened his eyes to his version of heaven, to his mate’s face. The arrow removed from her arm.

He was in so much pain only managing to rasp out, “Can’t leave you.”

“You have to make a choice now.” She cupped his hand. “There was no other way.” She spoke to herself more than him. “There’s no way Cassian could have made it back in time.”

She was trying to convince herself. His decision was already made.

She shook her head, bracing herself for his response. “You have only a few moments left.”

The black fog cleared from his mind, every ounce of pain returning, but his eyes opened.

“Look at me, Azriel.”

He blinked and where her canines had been were sharp fangs. “I can save you but I can’t guarantee this existence is worth it. I am still figuring it out for myself.”

To his credit, Azriel didn’t balk. A chance to be with his mate… his Felina. He groaned as he turned his head, exposing his neck to her.

“Azriel, if I do this. You are bound to me. I know I’m your mate but you don’t know me. What if I’m… too much? Can you bare that?”

He tried to speak. She would never be too much. He only kept his neck exposed, a warning rattle escaping his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, as she pressed her fangs into his neck.

Blinding light erupted through him along with the worst pain he’d felt in centuries. Tears fell from those otherworldly eyes of night onto his neck.

He fought through the pain, biting back screams. He would be strong for her.

As she drank, she caressed his hair. A slight whimper and the scent of arousal escaping her. She tensed as she recognized the scent. And he could feel a hint of shame from her end of the bond.

Azriel had only heard legends of vampyr’s. Stories told in the camps to scare children who were prone to wandering off and now here she was feeling shame for her own body’s response to having him at the most intimate level.

As she drank, little gulps escaping her, he felt his strength returning. He raised a hand and grabbed her breast, massaging it as she lapped at his blood. A silent communication that whatever she was feeling did not frighten him, was not unwelcome.

Her body relaxed only slightly but he could sense her relief.

The pain began subsiding and Azriel’s strength had already returned in full, in excess, even.

Her drinking slowed and she fought against the urge to keep drinking, the greedy need for blood raging through her.

Azriel raised his hand from her breast to her face, stroking his thumb across her cheek. She leaned into it, grounding herself.

Suddenly she pulled herself off, gasping. Her chest heaving. Pain filled her eyes as she stared up at him. But he felt… incredible. Euphoric.

And there his mate was, reeking of sweet arousal. Chest heaving. Trickles of blood dripping from her mouth.

“You have to go now, Azriel. Get what you need and come back to me.”

He could hardly think. His need to be inside of her overwhelming every sense.

“Azriel. Listen!” She spoke firmly. “You have a couple of hours at most. Go home, get any healing tonics or sedatives that you may have, clothes, and blankets and come right back here.”

“I don’t-“ he started.

“You will. Can you still winnow?”

Azriel nodded. Had he winnowed in front of her before?

“Go. Now. Before Cassian gets home and bombards you with questions.”

Azriel didn’t want to leave, growing irate at the thought of it.

“I know it’s hard for you to leave. It’s a culmination of our newly tethered bond and likely the mating bond, Azriel.”

He stayed in place.

Finally she approached him. Staring straight past his eyes and into the depths of his soul as the urge to obey her taking overtook him. “Go now.”

Without another word, he left, winnowing directly to the River House, collecting a bag, and leaving Rhys with far too many questions. He prayed to the mother that he wouldn’t track him.

——————

One week later

Azriel

She’d begged him not to take her but she was declining far too quickly. They’d spent the past seven days in a daze. He had quickly gone from euphoric to delirious once returning from the River House.

And just as he’d made a life altering choice to be eternally bonded to her when she’d turned him, Felina made the choice to accept the mating bond by allowing him to feed off of her.

The combination of blood lust and the mating frenzy sent him into a spiral. They barely talked in the past few days, they’d have eternity to do that. He spent more time inside of her than out but she… she refused to feed off of him, citing that it was too risky with his newly turned state. When he wasn’t rutting into her, he was hunting for game but the blood wasn’t enough for her. He cursed himself for taking so much of her blood in his frenzied state.

She repeatedly asked that he not take her to his family but they would understand. It was the only option at this point. Her scent began shifting into that strange familiar aroma again, the darkness of her eyes swirling with flecks of blue. That “other” aspect to her diminishing slightly.

As she fought her consciousness, she barely managed to whisper “There’s more.” before going unconscious.

He’d waited so long to find his mate.

She’d saved him.

He didn’t want to go against her wishes but her condition was deteriorating rapidly. Her fever raising, her once-cool skin now burning as whimpers escaped her lips.

He did the only thing he could and prayed to the Mother that Felina would forgive him.

He flew her home.

They landed on the River House lawn in the middle of the night. Rhys appeared with a crack of thunder to confront the threat that breached his wards. Feyre, Elain, Cassian, and Nesta rushing out behind him, their eyes wide with shock.

Rhys shuddered, falling to his knees before his brother. “Azriel. Thank the mother you’re home.” He sobbed.

Felina let out a pitiful moan. Sweat beading on her brow. Her cool skin now radiating waves of heat. She slowly, weakly opened her weary eyes, the swirling black now bleeding into a blend of ultraviolet blue.

Rhys approached the female in his arms, Azriel tightening his grip on her. Time stood still as Rhys gently touched her face, carefully turning her head toward him. His face of relief crumpling into something earth shattering, the mountains quaking as he fell to his knees.

Azriel started, “This is Felina, my m-“

Rhys interrupted shaking his head as let out pained, joyous laughter. “No, Az.” He choked out. “Not Felina.”

Fighting to regain composure, Rhys clarified. “That’s Y/N.”

Azriel gasped as those now violet-blue eyes peered up into his, his jaw dropping as he carefully went to his knees with her in his arms.

That scent. Those eyes of night. Azriel’s mate was-

Rhys gave a disbelieving smile his voice again breaking at the sight before him.

“My sister.”

——————————————

A/N: Thank you for reading! For now, this is a one-shot. I have left openings in the story with the potential for it to become a series or at least part two with an explanation but have not yet decided.

This fic is loosely inspired by an old-western song called “El Paso” that I listened to growing up with my grandmother. The song is where I chose my pen name of “Felina” from. You may also recognize “Wicked Felina” as the title of the final episode of the show “Breaking Bad”

ACOTAR general tag list: @lilah-asteria

#acotar angst #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #Azriel #Azriel x reader #Rhysand #Cassian #azriel shadowsinger #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight #Shadowsinger