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scorpia-is-babey · 3 years

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Schrodinger’s Scorpion Kingdom

ALT Title:

An Essay Detailing Why I Don’t Believe in Either Theory of Hordak Wiping out the Scorpioni, or that the Former Scorpioni Gave Up the Kingdom Willingly

I often jokingly say that Scorpia’s backstory has to be the most convoluted, jumbled mess of a character I have ever had the misfortune of simping... Uh, I mean, analyzing for. I’m not the type of nerd to get spoon fed information without chewing on it first. Whenever I try to chew on the idea that Hordak miraculously brought the Scorpioni to their knees, or if he was simply given the Runestone and kingdom, I can’t really come to any agreement. Both are equally ridiculous if we sit down and dissect them.

Firstly, we are shown very clear evidence that the Horde (and by extension Hordak) had overthrown the kingdom (that popular screenshot of a few Scorpioni laying face down on the ground, the Black Garnet looming in the center). But there’s never any further explanation about that. How he might have rallied these brand new troops and given them armor; the early bits of technology he used; how he could have possibly discovered that the Black Garnet was a noteworthy piece of power; what the previous relationship between the Horde and Scorpioni was...

Scorpia’s takes or explanations on any of this doesn’t and will never count. She is not only a heavily biased party, but she isn’t a primary source of information. Force Captain Orientation, and therefore, Hordak, is the easiest answer to look towards regarding how she knows the things she knows. Scorpia is always a secondary source of information and it is impossible to take her word for whatever happened before she was born.

The main, primary source we do have is Light Spinner.

Light Spinner was watching the attack in real time and showed young King Micah. Her actions in “Light Spinner” (S2, E6) are desperate and urgent for that reason; there’s no time to be wasted. Through her and the narrative, we have a little bit of information on the Scorpioni, and we can conclude a few things about them:

1) They were doing well for themselves at some point. The entirety of the Fright Zone belonged to them, and there are even larger areas that the audience only gets to see once (Horror Hall) that would suggest opulence. Runestones are the deciding factor of a Princess of Power as well (these being the Elemental Princesses, the fact that there’s canonically only a handful of them). All of the Princesses of Power have very large kingdoms (i.e. Kingdom of Snows, Salineas, Bright Moon, and Plumeria).

2) Nobody gave up anything. If the aforementioned screenshot of the Scorpioni people laying face down on the ground and the looming Black Garnet being tied up wasn’t enough incentive to not believe that this was a peaceful treaty, I bring your attention to the fact that Light Spinner was keen on joining the Horde. She was accepted on the basis that she would be able to use the Black Garnet.

This random Mystacor sorceress, and not, say, the Black Garnet’s actual Princess.

3) They were not an obscure kingdom. Hordak’s arrival was common knowledge. Narrative wise, we don’t get to know this until Catra knows this. Just because Catra doesn’t know it, doesn’t mean that it isn’t a general fact. If there are only six elemental princesses in their entire known world, it would be jarring if the Black Garnet’s Princess was forgotten only after a few years since Hordak’s arrival.

We also don’t have extra confirmation from Light Spinner this time, but from the fact that Scorpia gets a Princess Prom invitation in the Fright Zone. They know where to mail it. They know where Princess Scorpia resides.

Who is “they”?

Canon doesn’t give us an answer to that. For the sake of continuing this point, we’re going to put a pin in it. Leave it for another day.

With all of these inferences of the former Scorpioni Kingdom, this leaves us with the idea that Hordak’s rule over them was, unsurprisingly forceful...

Somehow.

This character spends the majority of his time pursuing his own personal goals. He wants to rejoin Horde Prime by opening a portal and taking the entire Horde army into Etheria to conquer it. When he does end up doing this, it’s with the help of Catra, Entrapta, and indirectly, Scorpia.

He needs repairs to his armor eventually, which Entrapta helps him with; he needs Shadow Weaver to keep the soldiers in line as his second in command; he needs Catra after Shadow Weaver to take that second in command position which she absolutely succeeds in more than either of them could ever have...

How does Hordak overtake the Black Garnet without these characters and resources all of those years ago? Where does he get these soldiers from? Why are these soldiers strong enough to conquer a fully capable, thriving kingdom?

One idea floating around in the fandom space is that the Scorpioni were as non-confrontational, jovial and charismatic as Scorpia is shown to be, therefore allowing themselves to be conquered. That idea is not only unlikely, but it is admitting that somehow Scorpia would have met her people and known them well enough to pick up those traits. If not anything else, that claim is entirely ridiculous.

Although we see Scorpia in a picture with her mothers as an infant, it’s unlikely that she got to know them either and pick up on their traits. There is never any mention of them verbally and no confirmation if they are dead or alive. Scorpia’s mothers not making an appearance or even being mentioned implies that they are dead, but, again, that’s never confirmed... Instead we can conclude that the mother with the Black Garnet connection is, at the very least, disconnected from it. When Glimmer is crowned as Queen and she no longer has to share the Moonstone with Angella, she gets all of its power. When Scorpia connects with the Black Garnet, she gets all of its power. She is not sharing any of its power with anyone at that point.

...

This leaves me, annoyingly, left with more questions than answers. With Scorpia being my favorite character, I am constantly writing, drawing, and discussing her. This makes me acutely aware that she’s got one of the most plot hole-inclined, nonsensical backstories of the entire cast. It spills over into Hordak and the Scorpioni plotline, too.

Fortunately, since I don’t believe in either “Hordak conquered the Scorpioni”, or “the Scorpioni gave up the Black Garnet willingly”, this does nothing to affect how I perceive canon, Hordak, or the Scorpioni.

After thinking about and writing it all down, I genuinely do not care about Scorpia’s background anymore. I will make decisions based on her background when the opportunities arise in discussion or fanfiction writing. Both Scorpion Kingdom theories are ridiculous, leaving us with this paradoxical theory:

“Schrodinger’s Scorpion Kingdom Theory”, is realizing that this plotline doesn’t make sense, and then deciding to fill in your own spaces where it best suits your own understanding of the narrative —because the original explanations are both plausible and implausible, given what we know from the canonical facts.

#LMAOAOOAAOAO #I DEADASS WROTE THIS FOR FUN?#Schrodinger's Scorpion Kingdom Theory #i wrote this ... for fun #I'm going to go sit in my nerd corner now #i hope whoever reads this is having a great day #this is actually not a shitpost #scorpia #hordak #the scorpion kingdom #i'm deathly serious #but it's still funny to me #im willing to discuss further if yall are up for it

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lost-in-yujikiri · 4 years

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My version of SAO "Everyone Lives" AU

I need to get out my ideas of what would happen if most of SAO's Major Character Deaths got averted before Lycoris is released (except the villains and Sachi & the Moonlit Black Cat guild's death, there is just no way to erase it without undoing Kirito's development in Aincrad). I know SAO Gameverse/ Lycoris wouldn't follow any of my ideas, so I just want to share my view. Who knows, maybe this will become a huge fanfic some day.

Note: This post is full of multishipping/ non-canon shipping pandering headcanons/implications (the biggest ones are Eugeo/Kirito/Asuna & Bercouli/Fanatio/Dakira), as well as obvious heavy Alicization WoU and Moon Cradle spoilers, please beware. I also lightly included some game-only Alicization characters (Eydis and Medina) because I like them.

1) Cardinal is alive and she has high authority enough to install kid Alice Zuberg into a free Cube to make her a living entity separate from Alice S30

In most recent live Q&A Reki said that while writing Alicization the first scene he wrote is the scene of Kirito and Alice S30 climbing back into Cathedral and Kirito convinced Alice S30 to his side, he mentioned Alice's Synthesis is an irreversible one and it aligns with my reasoning of how Zuberg & S30 are different Fluctlights so I'll keep the same settings in here. So how would this affect everyone's treatment to the 2 Alices?

- Kirito would be glad that he doesn't have to "kill" any Alice just to keep one;

- Selka would be extremely confused, but I think she would eventually accept happily that she has 2 sisters now;

- Eugeo... would have even more complicated emotions than anyone, even more than he imagined. From my own experience, during university period, I went to a class reunion full of friends from middle school, and I reunited with a classmate friend whom I used to like a lot as a person. But for some reason I couldn't like his adult self as much as his middle school self even if he still isn't a bad person. To me he changed way too much in how he behaves and how he presents himself that I can't like his adult self like his middle school self, and I was shocked that puberty could change a person that much. Same to myself, I have changed a lot in my puberty too, and he also said I'm not the same as before any more. Back to my AU, I feel like Eugeo and Zuberg might mirror what I felt when I reunited with my classmate. Eugeo used to describe Alice Zuberg like the sun on the blue sky and that image of her is his source of happiness whenever he's sad, while Alice S30 is so unapproachable and cold like ice. Eugeo being indifferent to S30 is one thing, but to Zuberg it's like reuniting with a friend in elementary school who stayed the same and both would be shocked as Eugeo's the one who changed so much due to puberty. In ARS game Zuberg even said that while being jailed in Cathedral's ceiling, Eugeo (and everyone else) grew so big while she stayed the same and she's upset.

So I think in the end Eugeo would still end up letting Zuberg go instead of forcing her into the fantasy he held up for so long. Interestingly Eugeo himself already muled over this in LN when he was reading books in Cardinal's library, that the best outcome they could hope for is to give Zuberg back to her body and send her back to her family happily while he continued his adventure with Kirito because they're being chased away by the Church.

2) (Super self-indulgent) Bercouli/Fanatio/Dakira

Dakira: "Fanatio-sama is so amazing and dazzling and I love her, but she has Commander Bercouli so I can only be her subordinate and admire her in silence..."

Fanatio: "Dakira is so hardworking and loyal, she has so much potential I love having her with me but then what would Commander think..."

Bercouli: "Don't worry I'm cool with it, take care of our Sub-Commander, Dakira. And it's not like I can stop my knights from flexing their gayness..." *eyeing Eydis Synthesis 10

Super spoilers: Even if Bercouli didn't die in the War I think he would eventually unfreeze his age and find an ending for himself when he thinks he's lived too long and done enough for the Knights many years later. He would entrust Fanatio and her son with him to Dakira before he passed away, and Dakira would become Berche's 2nd mother (instead of Fanatio taking care of the kid alone in canon).

3) (Super self-indulgent) Eydis S10 x Alice S30 and Medina x Sortiliena

I could never imagine I would like any gameverse girls before but ARS and Lycoris manga have sold me Eydis x Alice S30 and Medina x Sortiliena OMG so I ship them hard in my AU.

4) Super self-indulgent Eugeo/Kirito/Asuna

(You guys who have stayed with me for years should have known already ara ara)

I don't feel it would not be that different from this excerpt from HR manga (seriously this artist really vibes with me I wanna have a drink with him sometimes).

Everyone: "Don't you think they're just too close? Aren't you afraid Asuna?"

Asuna: "Yeah I should, should I? But like Kirito seems so happy with him around like no others could and I feel he's a good boy so I can let them be"

We also should have more Eugeo & Asuna's interactions of chewing on Kirito's bad habits XD. I also feel like they can find solace in each other being fellow victims of sexual exploits from adults, in some aspects that Kirito can't fully understand that only fellow victims can.

4) Yuuki is alive and comes into UW as Goddess Lunaria

Poor Moon Goddess Lunaria, she's the 4th God of the Human Empire but even Reki forgot her in WoU and only mentioned her more in Moon Cradle. Anime and games also made it worse for leaving her out completely :(. So I want her to get her role in my AU as the Goddess of Dreams. Yuuki extremely fits her role, not to mention she cosplayed the Moon Princess in MD before. More Stacia Asuna x Lunaria Yuuki interactions are here of course.

5) Eugeo and Lunaria Yuuki participate in WoU with everyone

- Lunaria would be an amazing fighter of course. I feel she would be even more deadly than normal now that she has to start fighting with human souls on the line, whether they're real or artificial.

- Eugeo would be a huge AoE Life Absorber and Healer and also becomes destructive sometimes borderline death. But fighting with others will help him start seeing his own values and gain his own will to survive for others. And he'll become the first proper Knight in UW without going through Synthesis.

6) WoU changes and outcome in my AU (huge spoilers)

- Kirito got unconscious and damaged for a while, but without self-destructing his own Fluctlight from guilt of Eugeo's and other comrades' deaths because Eugeo is still alive and took care of him, so he eventually healed, at least quicker than canon;

- Asuna, Sinon and Leafa came to UW at once to help heal Kirito. There is no facepalming Asuna vs Alice fights since Alice didn't develop some level of Florence Nightingale effect towards Kirito (according to Wikipedia: "The Florence Nightingale effect is a trope where a caregiver falls in love with their patient, even if very little communication or contact takes place outside of basic care. Feelings may fade once the patient is no longer in need of care.");

- Sinon won against Subtilizer instead of the anti-climatic outcome in canon;

- Kirito & Eugeo fought together to win against PoH while Asuna and other girls kicked ass to huge armies;

- When they won the War the acceleration ratio of UW was changed to 1:1, Human Empire and Dark Territory made peace with more trading, labor & technology exchange treaties that benefit both. Alice S30 & Eugeo came to real world through Ichiemon & Niemon robots and chilled in ALO while Kirito beat up Kikuoka for hiding from him the actual purpose of Alicization project, and thus Kirito forced him not to use his friends as war soldiers.

- Alice S30 chose to go back to UW in the end since she finds her most values as being a Knight, coming to events of farce in real world is not her thing, and she wants to spend time with her Zuberg family. Meanwhile Eugeo already parted with his family after dumping on them a big bag of his Knight's salary money, saying that they can live prosperously without him working his ass off for them now, and he never comes back. He still comes and goes from real world to UW to do duties as a Knight who helps connecting real world & virtual reality, and sometimes visits the Zubergs with Kirito & Asuna. In real world he lives as an all-purpose robot in Kirigaya resident, while ALO he lives in the log house and takes care of Yui whenever Kirito & Asuna are busy in real world.

THE END.

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writemoment · 4 years

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Lovely Monster

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

Part: 1/1

Summary: There isn’t a single monster he couldn’t love. Not even me.

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Werewolf!Reader

Warnings/Rated: Mentions of abuse, comforting acceptance and fluff

Word Count: 2,155

( Reader ) P.O.V.

The darkness outside was nowhere compared to what was held inside my chest. These overwhelming feelings- a nightmare, forever my reality. My father screams out, smashing books into the walls as he lets out his anger. “You’re a freak, just like your mother! At least she had the decency to die!”

My body folds into itself, hiding from the abusive behavior of my father. The moon begins to take it’s effect on me and I can feel my bones cracking, breaking into my horrid form as it goes. Choked sobs and whimpers can be heard as hair sprouts from the pores of my skin, showcasing the freak I truly am.

Realizing I have little time left, I push my way out the nearest exit and away from the house. The pain is immense but I can’t allow myself to be chained and tortured tonight.

Running through the dark, thick forest, I rush until I no longer can. Falling to my knees I howl at the hurt and coil around myself. Then it’s complete. The bones have realigned themselves and my vision is blurred with what I can’t control. My inner wolf taking over.

Trees pass my traveling body in a blur, leaving no recognition for me to follow back. Soon, I’m at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the distant green of plantation and I howl at the moon. What a cliche- something I cannot control.

Contrary to the rush of adrenaline, the cool breeze that brushes over my fur brings a kind of calm over my nerves and slowly, my wolf steadies into a less frantic pace. Every time I’m forced to shift, it’s because of the moon or because of my dad. Rarely do I shift on my own. I’m too scared of what I become to willingly submit to that power.

My mother was the same way. She was too scared of her other nature, so she rarely shifted. My dad, being the human he was, hated us for the things we couldn’t control. When she passed, he didn’t even shed a tear. Anger filled tears ran through my whiskers as I remember his words, ‘good riddance’.

Strolling through the thick of the woods, I imagine a world that didn’t cringe at the things they don’t understand. Everything turns taboo at that point and no longer given a proper chance. For once, I want to be accepted for what I am. Perhaps that’s too much to ask for, but it’s something I harbor in the depths of my heart- both wolf and human.

Bright streaks of light cut through the dark and it catches my eye with its spectacular array of color. Sticking to the shadows and staying covered, I creep to the peculiar scene that’s unfolding underneath the canopy of stars.

Two bodies are running, dodging the spray of light as they round each other. They’re holding out some sort of weapon in front of them, being the source of the colors that had caught my attention.

My heart beats fast in my chest and my paws dig into the dirt, ready to sprint at any indication of harm to come my way. The taller one speaks a foreign word with clarity and I watch as the other falls backward, grunting at the impact.

“Hand over the egg and you’re free to go.” The tall one says, seeming calm and collected in this odd situation.

Grunting, the man offers up, what appears to be, a silver egg with a toss of his hand. Catching it carefully, the taller seems distracted as he coddles the egg while looking it over. That’s when the one on the ground raises his hand, ready to strike the clueless man.

Stepping forward, a deep growl bursts from my chest and they both snap their attention to me. My teeth pull up and I snarl, sending the lower one to chant something before disappearing from his previous spot in the blink of an eye.

Hmph

Whatever was going on, I knew that I couldn’t let anyone get hurt. Even in this form, this freak of nature knew that there was something worth protecting. It was a feeling, an instinct.

However, unlike the other man that had left at the sight of me, this other one remains. His soft eyes study me, his posture unflinching as he slowly lowers himself to a less threatening position.

I feel my haunches rise as I cautiously circle him. “Steady there.” His voice is smooth, accent beautifully rich. “I’m not going to hurt you…” There’s something quite odd about him. Not in a bad way, more like a breath of fresh air.

Everything around me seemed to slow down and the black began to swallow me whole. The last thing I remember is smelling earth and the muffled voice of the man saying something into my unconsciousness.

****

My body feels the shift before my mind does. The cool air forces goosebumps to rise on almost every inch of my skin. I awake to warm-toned light and unfamiliar surroundings. There’s a scratchy warmth heavy over my torso and I see someone had made an attempt of throwing a blanket over my body.

I scan the area for any sign of life but see none. However, I can sense it. I feel that I am not alone. Wrapping the blanket over myself, I groan as I crawl into a sitting position.

That’s when he appears. “Are you okay, miss?” He asks, eyes worried and lips parted in distress. In this lighting, I can fully see his features. Pale skin marked in constellations of freckles, light brown hair tousled in a messy mop atop his head. His eyes; I can’t quite pinpoint what color they are, just that they’re magnificent.

“Yeah… It always aches after I shift back.” I tell him, hissing quietly through my teeth as I reposition my body to face him. His shoulders slump a bit and he comes closer to where I was lain. Out of habit, I recoil into my body to take up as little space as possible.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” He says, quickly pouring me a cuppa tea before extending it to me. “My name is Newt. It seems that you exerted your energy back there. Blacked out from it, I’m sure.”

Uncurling from myself, I slip the mug from his hand. Our fingers momentarily swipe past one another’s and I, for the first time, don’t shy away from the contact. “Thank you.” A moment of quiet passes as I sip the warm beverage. “My name is Y/n. I’m sorry for putting you in this position.”

“What position is that, exactly?” He asks, confused.

“I- I don’t purposely shift into, well, that. I was just trying to find escape. Usually when the full moon comes, I’m…. nevermind that. I just usually don’t lose control like that.” My admission causes me to fidget in my seat. This all around is unusual for me. I’ve never told anyone about this issue.

However, Newt doesn’t seem to mind. “No use in beating yourself up over something you have no say in. Though I’m sure we could whip up a potion to keep your shift from happening during the full moon. That is, if you’d like.”

His voice is so melodic and comforting. It’s the exact opposite of my father’s. I nod, wide eyed. “You can do that?” My entire life has been spent in fear and Newt’s offer is the first hope I’ve had a taste of. To be honest, I’m desperate for more.

The desperation, the shock, must drip heavily from my lips because Newt’s eyes melt into pure kindness as he studies me thoughtfully. He smiles, stretching his lips so thin they almost disappear. Extending his arm he offers his hand to me.

Patiently, he waits for me to accept his invitation. I pause, quite noticeably so, for a moment before slipping my palm into his. They’re warm, rough but oh-so gentle. He leads me to the door and opens a whole new world before me. Magnificent and wonderous creatures are scattered about the expanse. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel so different.

****

It has been three days since Newt has offered to take me in. He didn’t ask but I know he could sense my dread at the thought of returning to my life before. We fell into a mutual understanding that I just needed time. It was nice to not have anything expected of me.

Newt is shy. That’s an understatement but he is also extremely kind. He gave me space but also let me test my ability to trust. Every moment in the presence of the wizard gave me confidence to seek him out.

He taught me how to care for his creatures by his side. He showed me magic and a world I hadn’t previously known existed. Every time he opened up a bit to me, I felt myself doing the same. I recognized the Occamy eggs as the very same one he had retrieved the night I met him in the forest. It made me realize how much Newt cared about and sacrificed for these fantastic beasts.

Days went by and he began to trust me enough to leave me in his suitcase, which is where I had awoken that first night. Newt traveled a lot and was a very busy person, actually. Even then, he would always return and those were the hours that I found myself eagerly waiting for. Because I, also, very much began to trust him.

One day, Newt found me kneeling outside and cradling my hand to my chest. “Are you okay, Y/n?” His voice was thick with worry as he rushed over to my side.

“Don’t get to close, Newt-” I plead. He stops a few steps away from me, “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if I shift…” Tears pool in my eyes as I try to calm myself down. Pain triggered me sometimes and the last thing I’d want to do is hurt him.

Despite my warning, Newt kneels beside me and peels my arm away from my body. “What happened?” He asks as he begins to examine the cut that’s angry and red on my wrist.

“I cut it on the edge of the feeding pail… I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you, Newt. Please.” He stands up with me and swiftly leads me inside the small flat. With such familiarity and ease, he begins to snip different herbs and pouring mixtures from vials.

I watch him with amazement and a bit of confusion. Before I know it, the pain has subsided and he’s wrapping my arm up with gauze. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Newt freezes in his actions before throwing a glance at me over his shoulder. “Because you’re not someone to be feared. At least, not for the reasons you’re referring to.”

His way of thinking, the way he perceives the world, is so unlike anything I’ve ever known. The wizard begins to put away medicines and I watch him quietly for a moment. “My dad wasn’t fond of my kind…Actually, that’s putting it nicely. He hated werewolves.”

My fingers fidget in my lap and I keep my gaze firmly fixed on them as I speak. Afraid that if I see Newt’s eyes, I’ll be too self-conscious to tell him. “He didn’t know Mom was one until it was too late. She was already pregnant with me. When she died, I lost the one person who saw me as I truly was. My father… he was violent, cruel and- and scared.

“Meeting you was the best thing that has happened in my life. Because for the first time, I wasn’t seen as a threat or as strange. You didn’t expect anything of me. You saw me as Y/n. Not as a werewolf.”

My forehead creased with emotion and salty teardrops fell onto my clasped hands. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth to stop the slight wobble. Chancing a glance at Newt, I find him standing in front of me.

Newt. His eyes glistening, not in pity, but with compassion towards me. Kneeling down so that his face was parallel with mine, he swiped away the stray tear that lingered off my chin. “There are no strange creatures, only blinkered people.”

With those words, I felt understood and, in a way, loved. Every day that I spent getting to know Newt Scamander, the more I began wanting to learn more. He loved his creatures and never truly believed monsters were born, they were made.

There was time for us to grow together, to grow fond of one another. As we went on, I knew that I’d become more confident with Newt by my side. There wasn’t a ‘monster’ he couldn’t love. Not even when it came to someone like me.

Masterlist Here

A/N: Thank you for reading! xx - Ellie-Mae

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lavenderleblanc · 3 years

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FFXIV Character Sheet

Character sheet taken from bluespiritonfire!

Name: Luka LeBlanc

Age: 27, as of the end of Shadowbringers (23 at the start of ARR)

Pronouns: he/him

Birthdate: August 8

~~PLACE OF ORIGIN~~

Race: Miqo’te, Keeper of the Moon, Arawahe clan

Interracial heritage: Miqo’te Keeper mother, Wildwood Elezen father. Appears mostly miqo’te, but taller and longer limbs. Also has some Elezen facial features.

Hometown/city: Fallgourd Floats, in the Shroud

Current residence/popular haunt: Owns a house in the Goblet with his wife, Laila; also spends a lot of time in Mor Dhona.

~~APPEARANCE~~

Eyes: Pale pink

Hair: Blue-white, natural

Hair type: Mostly straight with a bit of a wave to it

Hair style: Currently cut short, slightly wavy

Body type: Lean, muscular

Height: 5’ 10”

Skin: Olive

Facial features: Typical miqo’te markings around eyes, traditional miqo’te face tattoos

Body features: Very long, fluffy tail. Scars on his torso that look like gold-filled veins, after Shadowbringers.

Favourite/commonly used clothes

He prefers to wear clothes that are well-made and well-fitted, and doesn’t like baring much skin. Usually his clothes are mostly white or black, with gold or blue being common accents.

Preferred sets:

WHM Eber’s Set, PLD Chivalrous Set, RDM Bozjan Casting Set

~~SKILLS~~

DoL/DoH

Fun (Fisher, Goldsmith, Culinarian) | profit (Botanist, Carpenter, Weaver)

~~COMBAT~~

Main discipline

Paladin

Secondary/Tertiary/Extra Classes

White Mage | Red Mage | Machinist

Fighting style

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines?

Conjury came more naturally to him than thaumaturgy. Even before properly training as a conjurer, he was able to cast a few healing spells. He began learning red magic in part to round out his knowledge with black magic.

~~PERSONALITY TRAITS~~

~~LIKES~~

Environment: city streets | markets | the beach | being at home

Weather: snow | rain | cloudy days

Flavours: sweet | salty | tart | fruity | leafy greens

Textures: silk | cotton | metal

Favourite Dish: His mother’s Marmot Steak, strawberry dango

Favourite Colour: White

Favourite Sound: Piano

Favourite Smell: Maple syrup

Favourite Place: Wherever his loved ones are, Ishgard, Ul’dah

Favourite Holiday: Starlight Celebration/Christmas

~~DISLIKES~~

Environment: mountains | jungle | surrounded by books

Weather: rain (when he has to be out in it)

Flavours: sour | bitter | spicy

Textures: spongy | dry granules (sand, sugar, etc)

Least Favourite Dish: Anything with cucumber, Ishgardian cuisine (salt rock………….)

Least Favourite Colour: Orange

Least Favourite Sound: Heavy machinery and warmachina

Least Favourite Smell: Oil and gasoline

Least Favourite Place: Ala Mhigo, Fallgourd Floats

Least Favourite Holiday: Hatching Tide

~~HOBBIES~~

cooking sweets | gardening | golden saucer attractions (Lord of Verminion) | minion collecting

~~RELATIONSHIPS~~

Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother | father

Siblings: Only child

Children: None

Romantic: Married to Lailathwen Nerayna LeBlanc

Friends: Bounding Bear and Brenha Nightclaw, fellow founders of his company Fortune’s Bounty. Also close with Alphinaud and Alisaie, and G’raha.

Rivals/Enemies: Isn’t too fond of Y’shtola, but cooperates with her when needed. Was wary of Urianger up until Shadowbringers, but now trusts him fully. Has complicated mixed feelings about Zenos and Emet Selch.

~~HAVE DEALT WITH/IS DEALING WITH~~

How are they dealing with the most prominent of the above? How does it affect their day-to-day life, if at all?

His most prominent was his relationship with Zenos, and the changes he brought out in him. He found him extremely alluring, and with Zenos’ taunts of him being a beast, a beast he became. He threw himself wholly and recklessly into combat for a time, eventually realizing he had gone too far, and tried to compensate by blind self sacrifice. After the fight with Shinyru, his allies forced him to realize that him wielding a sword any longer would only be a danger to himself. He began to pick up conjury, so as to still support his allies, but without losing himself in the process. His self-worth and confidence has since increased, but he still enjoys healing.

~~ODDS AND ENDS~~

Notable Weapons

Nirvana Zeta, which he acquired while training in conjury after liberating Ala Mhigo.

Notable Mounts

Fatter Cat, which he came across in the Shroud while dealing with the Sylphs. It’s very cuddly and affectionate. It eats just about anything, which makes it a good composter for failed dishes.

Albino Karakul, which he purchased off a merchant in Ishgard while assisting with the restoration of the Firmament. It was meant to be sold for its meat, but he thought it was too cute and took it in.

Notable Minion/s

Fat Cat, which appeared alongside his Fatter Cat one morning. He’s not sure where it came from. Thinks it may have sprouted off the larger cat.

Wind-up Alphinaud, which he likes to keep around to tease Alphinaud with.

Black Hayate, a stray pup he picked up in the First. It stayed mostly in the Crystarium while he adventured, and has since returned to the Source with him. It proudly guards his house in the Goblets.

Keepsakes/Mementos

His wedding ring, symbolizing his bond with Laila. They crafted their rings for each other; he learned goldsmithing specifically to make hers.

Education Level

Luka went to a small informal school ran by one of the mothers in Fallgourd Floats, where he learned to read and write. He never went to a proper academic school, so scholarly texts are beyond him. He tends to learn better through practical experience.

His mother taught him weaving and sewing as he grew up. As a youth, he learned swordplay from a Paladin of the Sultana, and later inherited her soul crystal. He learned white magic from Laila and Y’shtola, as well as some assistance from Alphinaud.

Habits

He’s very neat and clean. Without fail he brushes his hair, ears, and tail every morning and night, and bathes regularly. He keeps his gear in good shape as well, making sure his weapon and armor are clean and in good condition after every battle. When his mental health starts to dip, his cleanliness is the first thing to suffer and the easiest sign to notice.

Other

He’s rather fond of Dravanian Moogles and Namazu. His favorite place to go for sweets is Hingashi.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #luka xiv

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kadeuhq · 4 years

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Accepted — Meeseong Nari

♥ Meeseong Nari aka. Cherry looks like Moon Ga-young (actress) ♥ She was born April 19, 1980; making her 40 years old but she appears 26 ♥ This Gumiho is a Clubs Deserter and a Six of Hearts ♥ She works as a sex worker at the Red Dragon and a part-time barista at a The Fox Den

Biography

Nari’s mother was born into a poor family mostly composed of threes and fours in the territory of the Hearts. As if the social exclusion and disdainful looks that her whole family received for not being able to live a luxurious life were not enough, she also had to learn how to steal and lie in order to survive and in order to try and get her family out of that miserable state. All of this made her extremely frustrated and angry, even with all the attempts to try and rise in the ranks and to try to give her family a better life, the young girl learned very early to hate her faction’s system. They did not judge people for what they were or for the effort they put into trying to become someone better, they valued their people only based on their wealth (or lack thereof), and they did not care about how many bad things they did in order to achieve it. It was not long after this realization that she began to resort to violence, frequenting more and more often the territory of the Clubs where she eventually met her first great love that taught her exactly how to defend herself and how to attack others. Gradually, all this knowledge started to be used and her thefts increased, both in the frequency with which she did them, but also in their violence and effectiveness. Yet, she no longer fought because she wanted to increase her family’s wealth, she fought because she wanted to punish the corrupt high rankers.

Even before she found out she was pregnant the decision to desert had already been made, and her parents’ reaction to the news only confirmed that she had made the right choice. As much as they wanted to support her, all members of her family made it very clear that they couldn’t take care of another child and that no one should be so irresponsible as to bring a child into the world in such poor conditions. Shortly after this she finally said goodbye to all her family members and, with the help of her lover, managed to change her faction and become a loyal member of the Clubs. There, she managed to quickly evolve, rise in the ranks, and give birth to her two children.

Nari was always different from her older brother, although he was born with a much lower number engraved on his arm, it was obvious that he belonged to that faction. He was a fighter and never backed down from a challenge. Nari on the other hand, had great difficulties. When someone started a fight with her it was common for her to come home with fresh wounds and tears in her eyes for not being able to defend herself. As her brother moved up the ranks, Nari descended more and more. Soon after taking notice of the discrepancy in the paths of his two children, their father decided to start training them both. He was the only one who had been able to see the potential in her. So, when her father died in combat, however extremely common it was for this to happen, it did not making it any less of a shock for his family and Nari, once again, stopped believing in herself and doubted even more her loyalty towards her faction.

Nari was still very young when her mother fell in love again, and that man never fully accepted Nari and her brother just as the two siblings never forgave their mother for falling in love with another man so soon after their father’s death. It was a completely different environment to what they were used to, it wasn’t just challenging it was now abusive and one day, both siblings decided to leave and carry on with their lives as best as they could.

There is no certainty as to how long Nari managed to live as a fox, the truth is that when she wanted to change back to her human form it was extremely difficult to do so. Only with the help of another Gumiho, ( much older, more experienced, and a high ranker of Hearts ) was she able to do it. The only thing the woman asked in return was that Nari worked for her without any payment. This sounded more than fair for the other Gumiho and shortly after her transformation she finally managed to change factions - she was now a Heart, just like her mother had once been.

Personality

Everyone that is a heart is bound to be involved in some gossip so even if most don’t know about Nari being an ex-club ( the truth is that high rankers do pay a lot of attention to details ) she does try to hide this fact as much as she can. Even with her best efforts she is bound to be a recipient of some prejudice. It also doesn’t help that she lived in her fox form for quite some time - more than was probably advised - so unfortunately she still has some more animalistic instincts that are harder to suppress than others. Despite her mother’s ideals, Nari still looks up to the high rankers and tries to copy them in everything that they do in order to be more accepted into the Hearts. She doesn’t really have an opinion on Diamonds but she is afraid of the Clubs and Spades. She knows how strong they are and since the main source of her income comes from her being a sex worker she tends to avoid customers from both these factions, as she feels safer that way and she strongly advises other co-workers to do the same.

She was once a very low ranker as well but she did have a lot of help from a higher ranker lady so she does hold a lot of respect for most who have a higher rank than her. However, she doesn’t hold any negative feelings towards others who are below her. In fact, she hopes to one day be wealthy enough to help others.

Congratulations Mady, your app has been accepted! Please send in your url and your follow will be posted when we hit ten applications

#new rp #new krp #accepted;

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fangirlingmuch · 5 years

Text

Closing the Distance Ayapin fanfic PART 12

There are no words to describe how sorry I am. I left this fanfic unfinished for too long. We need closure and they need to be happy. I hope Part 13 or 14 will be a final part. I am planning to use bits from some of my different drabbles and one shots to help with the plot.

Thank you to all of you who were still waiting and I am sorry if you are disappointed with the outcome. This part includes a poem by Beki Coxon, link at the end.

Graduation was coming closer. Decisions needed to be made. Everyone was stressed about their future and if their choices were the right ones. Ayane has spoken with Sawako and Chizu about theirs and realised they will all end up in different places. It has caused more than one crying party but they also came up with ideas to stay in touch and make sure to meet up regularly even if it means seeing each other only every 2-3 months.

- Waaaa…. . – Sawako was crying again.

- All of us have different dreams. You will still have Chizu. You both will have each others.

- Are you sure you will be able to stay by yourself? – Chizu asked. – Is your mum still doubtful?

Ayane stayed silent for a moment. Her mother wanted her to be committed and give her best, not regretting her decision or giving up half way.

- No, she is not. She is supportive in her own way. – Ayane was hoping her mum would not end up disappointed in the end.

Ayane decided to take an entrance test for a bigger University in Tokyo and recommendations to be send to the smaller ones. She wouldn’t be able to attend all exams no matter how hard she tried. One thing she knew for sure: one way or another she will end up studying in Tokyo. Her mum was already looking into small apartments and dorms to find something convenient and also cheap to live in there.

Now that she was thinking about it she started to wonder what exactly she was trying to accomplish when she decided to confess to Pin. Even back then she was fixed on leaving the town soon after graduating so what she was expecting to happen with them? Back then she was drowning in her feeling to him. It felt like she would suffocate if she doesn’t say something but she wasn’t really thinking about the future, she was focused on the present and on how intense her feelings were. Previously when she agreed to date someone she could never envision a future with them. It was easy and fun at that moment but she never made long-term plans with them. It was also something her mum was worried about, that she wasn’t able to commit fully. As painful as it is to admit at the back of her mind she always knew that Pin would reject her. He also knew she was planning to study away. Risking his career for less than few months of a relationship – was it really what she was expecting of him? One thought was still stuck in her head: will he miss her? Will he miss her when she is no longer here?

Her eyes fell on her desk, there were still assignments to complete. Some teachers were giving them a lot of free time considering the end of school was near but some didn’t care and were planning to torture them till the very last day. The one she was working on at the moment was to find or write a poem. All the poems that were speaking to her were about sad love and were breaking her heart every time she read them. She has also tried to write her own and it went even worse because all she could think of was writing about Pin and there was no way should be able to share it with the class. Her mind wondered again and in utter frustration she decided to open the poems book on a random page and take that as her homework. She did it with her eyes closed praying for a good result but once she opened her eyes and saw it she knew that once again luck was not on her side. Her luck took her to the poem she has reread so many times that it was engraved in her heart.

-------

It was so difficult for Pin to see her in the classroom. Ayane seems to have changed her attitude from ignoring him to being indifferent. At least now they would make an eye contact once in awhile but no interaction was going between them outside of the classroom.

He tried to ignore the feeling growing inside his chest. He was longing to have her close. He missed her. Soon he wouldn’t be able to see her at all. Not in the classroom, not in the hallways, during PE or even in town. She will be nowhere for him to see. It was taking a toll on his heart. And he also became curious – she said she was trying to stop loving him, did she manage to do that already? Does she no longer love him? Could she forget her feelings just like that? He wanted to know if it was that easy and if it will happen to his feelings as well.

Few more days have passed and he was back in the classroom talking to the class. Ayane was sitting at her usual place looking unbothered.

- I hope everyone is ready for the graduation. The fact that you feel ready to leave this school and you can see the end of your misery – he continued smirking at the students. – it doesn’t mean there will be no homework. – student whined and booed. He continued with odds bits he was asked to pass on and complete from different teachers. – The literature teacher is off sick but she has asked you to find some poems to share with everyone and to discuss. I am sure some of you have tried to write your own as well. Has everyone brought one? - students who forgot just lowered their heads. – Please bring them forward and I will pick few to read out.

Pin glanced at Ayane and he saw her tense up and hesitate to hand out her paper to pass forward. He mixed up the papers that were given to him and decided to pick 3 randomly. The first was a well-known children’s rhyme which was really cute and made everyone laugh. Second was obviously a self written one. Everyone was impressed with the rhymes and thoughts behind it.

- We have 3 minutes left. Let me read one more. – Pin exclaimed when discussion about the second poem was running over.

He pulled another paper and read out loudly the title: My Gorgeous Handsome Soldier. Few students giggled at the title, he smiled as well but then he saw Ayane’s name on it. She picked this poem.

He started reading trying to keep his voice even:

Today my heart is aching

For a man that's far away

I would give anything to hold him (few students giggled again but were quickly hushed by the rest of the class)

And any ransom I would pay

I find my mind just wanders

To a sandy barren hell

And pray that my loving thoughts

Find my soldier safe and well (the class was completely silent at that point)

Each night before I go to bed

I look up to the skies

And the moon brings me comfort

As my tears brim in my eyes

Despite the miles between us

We still share the stars and sun

So I gaze upon them often

It helps me know we are still one

So as I lie down on my pillow

I close my eyes and think of you (Pin stuttered)

Not only in my waking moments

But you are in all my dreams too (his voice started breaking up)

My gorgeous handsome soldier

I love you with all my heart

And the hardest thing I've ever done

Is have to accept we had to part

But our love is so much stronger

Than any force I've ever known

In the short time we've been together

It's amazing how much it's grown

So until we are reunited

Please stay safe and strong

My heart is yours forever

With you is where it belongs

Think about me often

My gorgeous handsome man

To wait for you forever

Is my battle plan

And the bell her rung before anyone could comment on the poem or the fact that Pin’s voice cracked while reading it. Most of the students were excited the school day was over and were happily leaving the classroom. People said their goodbyes and rushed outside. Chizu and Sawako left with their boyfriends but Ayane was still sitting at her desk. There was no movement from her or from Pin.

- I think we need to talk. - it was Pin who said it.

- I think we do. – Ayane answered her eyes locked with his.

I will post the fanfic on ao3 once it is completed.

Source for the poem: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/my-gorgeous-handsome-soldier

#Ayapin #closing the distance #closing the distance fanfic #Ayane #Pin #fanfiction #updated

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shoe-sheriff · 5 years

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So some friends and I are considering getting a D&D campaign going, and someone else volunteered to be DM, so I get to play a character. Now, I’ve been wanting to play D&D for a few years now and haven’t been able to get my fix, so I immediately start looking at 5th edition books (because I’ve only ever played 4e) and making a character. I landed on a Earth Genasi (from Elemental Evil Player’s Companion) Fighter. Of course, it being me, I also made a way-too-long background for the character.

For the first time in my life, I’d like to share the background publicly immediately after finishing it (I literally just got done like 5 minutes ago). Please, if you read it, let me know what you think. Anything that needs to be changed, added, removed, doesn’t make sense, etc.

My conception came after my parents found an artifact that acted as a gateway to the Elemental Plane, where my biological, dao, father is from. He traversed through the gateway a few months later, seeking to experience all the Material Plane had to offer. He fell for my mother, and tricked her into sex, impregnating her with me. From what I’ve gathered, he was known as Sihu the Powerful, and had a reputation of causing mischief wherever he went. Most of it was harmless, though there was an incident where he crushed a young woman beneath a boulder. After he proceeded to experience many more things throughout the plane, he left, never intending to deal with the consequences of any of his actions.

Being half dao, a quarter human, and a quarter elf, I had quite the culmination of features. My ears were slightly pointed like an elf, broad shoulders like a human, but at the same time more slender than a human. The most curious and out of place feature, however, came from my dao side. I had crystals sprouting from my light gray skin. They formed a pattern following my collar bone and around my hairline on my forehead, with a few outcroppings materializing along my upper arms and legs. Most of the crystals were tourmaline, green dissolving beautifully into pink, though I had a wide variety depending where one looked. I had honey-hued citrine, charoite with magnificent swirls of violet and lavender, and even fiery red opal. My hair was a deep black, with a faint light emanating from it where it was parted. This set me apart from others around me, but because I had beautiful rocks coming out of me, most people looked at me in amazement. I didn’t hate the added attention, but I wasn’t fond of it either, so I did my best to hide them when able.

My early childhood was filled with joy and happiness. My mother and her husband, henceforth referred to as my father, raised both me and my older half-brother. My father came from a reasonably wealthy family, my mother not so much. Together, they managed to raise us into fine members of society. They taught us how to properly value money and be happy with the things we had instead of constantly chasing happiness through the next purchase.

My father was a very experienced woodsman, regularly taking us on hikes and camping expeditions. He worked his days as a tradesman, dabbling in woodworking, metalworking, construction, and fishing. There were not many tradesmen in our town, thus he sought to make himself as valuable as he could to his community. He strived to give to his community as much as he could, while only accepting small payments for his work.

My mother worked as one of the town’s clerics, healing the wounded and spreading divine light across every shadow she encountered. Sadly, her healing magics and devotion to the lawful good divines did nothing to prevent her own illnesses. Several times throughout my childhood, she was plagued by a recurring sickness. After each bout, a different High Priest declared that the sickness would not return, only for it to do just that, poisoning her body and draining her life force more efficiently each time. The scars left by the illness covered her body, the most recent one ripping her stomach from this plane. She gave up her devotion, realizing that the divines would not help her. To everyone’s amazement, however, even through her pain and suffering, she never gave up her dedication to healing others and spreading the most beautiful light imaginable, no matter the willingness of the dark to overcome.

My brother, being older than myself and of a different race, grew up being bold and carefree. From him, I learned more about what not to do than what to do. He was caught several times sneaking out of our home to cause mischief with his friends. When he grew just old enough to be considered self-sufficient, my parents exiled him from the home, not wanting him to influence my actions. They remained supportive of him where they could, offering to pay for expenses he could not or gifting him furniture for his home. My grandparents, from my father’s side, even gave him (and myself) a large sum of coin, under the agreement that we use it to pursue a higher education or to start our own business, before using anything left over as we saw fit. We both used this to pursue a higher education. I sought to learn a series of trades, as my father did, learning the basics from him, applying that to my education, and then bringing everything together again with my father. My brother yearned to study and practice the Arcane arts, wishing to use the knowledge to provide responsible magics for the town’s benefit. Most of the way through his education, however, he had a child and was forced to put aside his education to take care of his daughter. He never went back to finish, unfortunately.

While working on my education, I had decided to learn Primordial, should I ever meet with Sihu or any genie who knew of him. I finished my education and began to make a name for myself as a learned tradesperson, creating great works and teaching even other apprentice tradespeople when they visited the town. My father retired after a year of my entrance to the trades, tired of working all day and knowing I had surpassed him in ability, due to my young, sturdy body, and thanks to the particular form of crafting I had learned, utilizing newer advancements and techniques. Though I loved what I did, especially the smile and gratitude I received from those I served, something always felt out of place. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was wrong, until roughly six years ago when I realized that I felt a part of myself was missing, having gone unrecognized.

For four years, I tried to find that part of myself and become a fuller being. I began to meditate, experience nature more fully and regularly, and used various herbs to seek that which evaded me my whole life. I felt like I had grown much, but that I was still unable to find my true self. Fearing that it may have been due to the fact that I felt obligated to not grow too far from who everyone around me knew me as, I decided to leave town. I spent many months training others to take my place as the town’s tradespersons, until I felt the town was in excellent hands. I set off to seek enlightenment of some kind, unsure of where I was headed or what lay ahead. I may return one day, though I am not sure that would be healthy for me.

Traveling for close to 9 moons, I was starting to feel fuller and more complete. I had decided not long after leaving town, that I would change my name from what the Half-Elves called me. I had been hiding from my dao ancestry my whole life, but no more. I am an Earth Genasi, and I have never been more proud of it. I stopped hiding the crystals that grew from my skin, eventually turning to them as the source of my name: Tourmaline. It was around that time that I met with a tribe of outcasts, mostly consisting of Orcs. They were not welcome in their former homes for being too calm and peaceful. They sought to live a grand life with compassion to all beings and the world itself, focusing on improving oneself to live in harmony with that which is around them. Most of them were from the same clan, but there were some like me who happened by and decided to join their tribe and follow their path.

They taught me to hunt, scavenge, and survive with the land. With them, I visited marvelous new areas and saw beautiful landscapes. To me, they were a new family, one with similar views as my own. For the remainder of two years, I had stuck by their side, using my skills in woodworking to construct whatever we needed, and a few things just for fun, like a lute. A couple of them taught me to play, and we formed a sort of band, playing for the tribe most nights, a celebration of life and our vision. We welcomed a handful of new members and wished old ones a safe journey as they departed for the next chapter of their lives. Nobody was made to feel left out or unwanted, and they were welcome to stay as long as they felt comfortable.

On the way back from a meditation session, I found the camp utterly destroyed. Bloodstained, torn tents flapped in the wind, and the bodies of most of my family lay on the ground, motionless. For weeks, I grieved for them, unable to bring myself to leave the camp, unsure of what I should do. One night, they appeared to me in a dream. I came out of my tent and they were dancing and drinking, merry as ever. When they saw me fall to my knees crying, they rushed over to comfort me. When I finally got a hold of myself, they sat down with me around the campfire and listened to me express how sorry I was that I wasn’t there to help or at least die with them in honor. The two who had been in the tribe longer than I put their hands on my shoulder and lowered their heads. They spoke to me without words, their voices thundering in my head as one. “The time for grieving has been over for some time now. You could not have known, thus it is not a worry you should burden yourself with any longer.” Their unified words of wisdom brought some calm to my nerves, but I still felt like I had been defeated. “The fact that any member of our tribe is still alive is a miracle, and miracles are rarely without purpose. There are others who need you, and a greater destiny which calls your name, Tourmaline. Go now, and bring honor to our tribe. Through memory, we will stay immortal.”

The next morning, as I awoke, I heeded their words. I put on my traveling clothes, gathered some chain mail, a greatsword, trident, and what else I could reasonably carry, and started walking. I didn’t know what destiny I was to fulfill, but I knew I had to make sure the tribe, nor their vision for a more harmonious world, wouldn’t be forgotten.

#writing #dnd #d&d #d&d character #background #feedback wanted #genasi #fighter

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nancykali · 6 years

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❤️stoncy through the seasons

Winter 1984-1985

Nancy remembers how chapped their lips were, when she andSteve kiss for the first time after their fight. The wind is vicious and she can’tfeel her fingers grasping his coat, but she feels his hands around her waist andthat’s all that matters.

When the three of them pile into the backseat of Jonathan’scar, they can all see their breath, and it takes a long time for the car to warmup. But Nancy has her coat off long before then. Jonathan’s hands are warm frombeing in his pockets, as he’d stood on the driver’s side waiting for Nancy—andhopefully Steve, too. He ends up between Steve and Nancy in the backseat, Steveplayfully applying Nancy’s chapstick before he kisses him, while Nancy guides hisright hand beneath her sweater to reveal she isn’t wearing a bra.

Nancy counts down the days to Barb’s funeral, and each nightit’s harder to go to bed. She barely sleeps. Eventually she doesn’t even turnher lamp off. The night before the funeral she has both Steve and Jonathansneak in and sleep beside her.

They all remain clothed and Nancy always remembers how herboys’ clothes smell of snow and cold air, and how stiff Steve’s hair isbecause he’s recently showered and didn’t let his hair dry before goingoutside. They let her babble on, about school, about Mike and Will and El, aboutthe stupid Halloween party, about Murray, about the Upside Down, and finallyabout Barb, until she can’t hold back the tears anymore.

After Nancy tells them maybe eight or nine times it was okayfor them to sleep, Steve and Jonathan doze for a bit. She holds both theirhands, Jonathan’s draped over her stomach, and Steve’s laying across her chest,curled over her collarbone. She lets her tears dry on her face as she just liesstill and listens to them breathing. Trying to think more about them being withher instead of who they’d be “burying”.

Nancy waits until the last possible minute to wake them up.She knows her mother would be up at six. She watches the digital clock on hernightstand go from 5:20, to 5:21, 5:22…Finally at 5:30 she gives in and wakesthem. The boys sneak back out to catch maybe a couple more hours of sleepbefore the funeral. Steve has to arrive separately in his own car.

Christmas is better. Nancy sneaks a bottle of champagne outof the house on December 26th, around 12:15am, when Jonathan pullsup with Steve in the front seat. She’s still wearing her Christmas dinnerdress, but snow boots instead of heels.

They go out to the junkyard and start a bonfire. This is howthey like to celebrate. It’s almost out in the open, outside of their ownhomes, but away from any unexpected company or prying eyes. They get drunk andhigh and drunk again, and exchange their gifts. Jonathan gives Steve a newcoat, and Nancy the first mix tape he’s ever made for her. Steve gives Jonathana new Zippo lighter, and Nancy a gun. A real gun. “Pulled a few strings with the chief,” he says, kissing theawed look off her face, grinning the whole time.

Most of what Nancy remembers from that night is thefirelight in Steve and Jonathan’s eyes after she gives them her gift, two ringson two silver chains. They’re all close to tears. And the taste of roastedmarshmallows and champagne together. And how weed, wood smoke, and snow smellstogether on Steve’s coat that she wears on the ride home. Before she gets outof Jonathan’s car, she tries to give his coat back to him, but he’s still highand refuses to take it, and part of her doesn’t want to let it go. They have tokeep their secret, but she sleeps with Steve’s coat that night, tucked againsther chest. Her sheets smell of his hairspray and wood smoke the next morning.

When she sees Jonathan the next day she asks him if he’dgotten a picture of her last night wearing Steve’s coat. Of course he did.

That particular coat keeps getting passed around. SinceJonathan got Steve a new coat for Christmas, he sees no problem with lettinghis gf and bf share the old one. No one but Karen, who has a sharp memory andthinks the coat is vaguely familiar and out of place, suspects anything.

Spring 1985

It’s Jonathan’s favorite season, and the season of hisbirthday. It’s also the season Steve graduates high school, and reveals he’schoosing to stay in Hawkins and work at the mechanics shop. His parents arefurious, and for a few weeks he has to sleep over at the Byers, while his dad’stemper cools off.

He and Jonathan stay up past 1am nearly every night,watching movies, debating about different bands, Jonathan showing Steve how tomake mix tapes. Steve also learns how Jonathan gives such great foot massages,and they give each other back massages until they’re a hot, aching mess. Theytalk until their voices are hoarse, about their fathers yeah, but also aboutNancy, about Will and Joyce, about Mike and Dustin and what’s going to happento Max and Lucas. They talk about the video games Steve loves that Jonathanjust can’t get into, how Jonathan learned to cook, when Steve smoked his firstcigarette, when Jonathan smoked his first blunt. And a few times they talkuntil they start hearing birds chirping outside even though it’s still pitchdark, and drift off giggling inside jokes at each other and trading teasingkisses that go deeper just before fatigue can take over.

Steve does household chores without being asked and Joycecan’t dissuade him no matter how hard she tries. His dad doesn’t allow him touse his car, so Jonathan helps him get to his new job for the first few weeks.Nancy is the first to storm over to the Harrington’s and give Mr. Harrington apiece of her mind (as politely as she can). It works on Steve’s mother, but nothis father.

She does, however, get Steve’s car keys back. She drives upthe Byers’ driveway in Steve’s car on a sunny Saturday afternoon, the mosttriumphant smile on her face. Steve picks her up and spins her around, kissingher soundly in front of Joyce and Will and El, prompting Joyce to do quite abit of explaining to the two 14 year olds who’ve thought Nancy was just datingJonathan this whole time.

Steve and Jonathan and Nancy of course do their part in theexplaining, and Nancy begs Will to let her tell Mike, but to let this remain asecret for a little longer. (Hopper remains in the dark for a few more weeks.)El is of course completely trustworthy, and unabashedly intrigued, while Willremains confused but fully accepting. He and Jonathan have already talked a fewtimes about Will’s interest in boys by then.

Jonathan has to work a lot, so they celebrate his birthdayafter he’s done with a long shift at the movie theater, nearing 2am. Stevebrings a blunt for them all to smoke as a birthday surprise. Nancy does have to drive Jonathan home, thoughshe offers as a courtesy more than anything. The next day Steve teases Jonathanabout it mercilessly anyway, knowing Jonathan got most of the birthday blunt,and so was probably unfit to drive. Nancy later reveals that Steve fell asleepin Jonathan’s backseat last night, and she couldn’t wake him up (he sleeps likethe dead) so they’d have to ride with Jonathan to work that afternoon so theycould pick up Steve’s car from the theater parking lot.

Steve and his dad eventually reconcile, but things remaincool between them. Steve spends far more time at the Byers than he does in hisown home. This eventually results in Hopper accidentally finding out about theirpolyamorous relationship. He cuts off every single attempt Nancy makes toexplain the relationship further to him, and Joyce eventually tells Nancy to lether do the talking. “He’s not sexist, honey, he just doesn’t like young peopleexplaining new and unfamiliar things to him. He was like this when I firsttalked about smoking weed with him.” Joyce says this completely within earshotof Hopper and she knows it.

Summer 1985

Nancy gets a part time job as a waitress. Karen drives hermost of the time, she doesn’t get her own car. Sometimes she rides her bikethough, and Steve is quick to point out how quickly her legs get toned becauseof all the riding. This makes her blush crimson before she playfully punchesboth of her boyfriends in the arm for laughing.

Sometimes if their schedules coincide, Jonathan drives herto work. Steve usually picks her up, especially if her shifts go late, and theyspend the night at the Byers’. Honestly if they’re not spending the night atthe Byers’ it’s because they’re pooling their resources to get a cheap motelroom somewhere outside the Hawkins city limits.

They do this at least four times throughout the summer.Twice Nancy pretends she’s dating only Steve. The very last time they got amotel room, in August, at a motel they’d never been to, she pretends she’s withboth Steve and Jonathan, but separately, at different times, confusing thehell out of the staff.

They spend the fourth of July out by the lake closest toHawkins. It had been over ninety degrees in the shade that day, and they goskinny dipping after dark. Steve hides Nancy’s bikini, with Jonathan as hisaccomplice. But she couldn’t care less because it’s pitch dark except for moonand starlight and distant fireworks, and the only source of light out here isJonathan’s car, his Zippo lighter, and a few sparklers they got from the party.They don’t even light a bonfire, it’s so hot.

Nancy ends up falling asleep with only a duvet covering her,using Jonathan as a pillow, and Steve using heras a pillow. She wakes up first, maybe only a half hour after the sun rises,and drives them all back to the Byers (after finding her bikini hidden underthe passenger seat, and stealing Steve’s shirt right off his back—he sleepsthrough it of course). Jonathan wakes up during the drive and she tells him tolet Steve sleep with a mischievous smile on her face.

El is the only one up and is making waffles for everyone. Nancyquietly enlists her help in waking up Steve. She gets a can of Reddi Whip andshows El how to coat Steve’s hands in the stuff, then tickle his nose until hewakes up with the whipped cream all over his face. Nancy and Jonathan’scarefree laughter prompt El to laugh too, and she ends up laughing harder thanshe’s ever laughed. Steve’s surprise soon gives way to laughter too, and heeventually takes the Reddi Whip from Nancy and starts chasing her, trying toget as much as he can in her hair. The grass is still slick with morning dew andthey both end up slipping and falling on each other, laughing until they’rebreathless. Jonathan then calmly walks up, takes the Reddi Whip, and sprays aneat little dollop on each of their heads, before walking back inside with El,yelling over his shoulder for them to clean each other up with the garden hose.

Jonathan goes back inside with El to help her finishbreakfast, while Steve and Nancy clean up outside. After Steve gets all thewhipped cream off himself, Nancy gives him his shirt back. It’s only slightlydamp and reeks of lake water. Steve, seeing her back in her bikini, sprays her mercilesslywith the garden hose, getting her soaked. She gets him back of course.

Steve ends up carrying Nancy into the house bridal style,both of them damp and grinning like idiots. Seeing Jonathan at the sink, and Eland Will at the table, both of them hold a finger to their lips to signal thekids to stay quiet, and Steve sneaks up behind Jonathan with Nancy still in hisarms.

Nancy, hoping the running water in the sink has masked theirapproach, leans close to Jonathan’s ear and whispers, “You were gonna be ourcherry on top,” before she jumps out of Steve’s arms and they tackle theirboyfriend. The kitchen is suddenly full of yelling and laughter as Steve andNancy shower Jonathan with damp kisses, tickling him and pulling him away fromthe sink, until they’ve both got him on the ground, tickling him until he’sscreaming laughing and then trying to tell them their waffles are getting cold,which only prompt them to tickle him more. Joyce and Hopper run in at all thenoise, still half asleep, to find Will and El calmly eating waffles while all thisis going on. And that’s how they start off July 5, 1985.

Fall 1985

Fall becomes the season for monster hunting.

Nancy makes the connection first. The demogorgons, the mind flayer,they like it cold. The past two years in Hawkins, they’ve always been beatenbefore winter set in. The Hawkins gate is closed, but El helps them realizethere’s more than one gate that’s been opened, and there are more monsters outthere.

Hopper forbids them from leaving Hawkins when they bring itup. He says he’ll follow the leads, tell them what he learns. Nancy demands toknow if a monster has killed anyone outside of Hawkins. Hopper sees thevengeance and pain still burning in her eyes and knows he can’t stop her, so hesays he’ll tell her everything heknows, as long as she stays put. For now.

Nancy goes to do target practice in the woods a lot moreoften. Jonathan and Steve are usually with her, but sometimes she wants to bealone. She keeps the part time waitress job, saves up, works late nights, takesadvantage of her insomnia to study, catch up on homework. It gets harder tokeep her relationship with both Steve and Jonathan a secret, harder to keepfrom telling her parents she’s not going to some classy university next fall,she’s going to go wherever Jonathan goes, and so is Steve. Just as long as it’sfar away from Hawkins, Indiana.

And she begins studying medicine, first aid. It’s just ahobby, she thinks, at first. She likes science, maybe she’ll pursue nursing.But then Jonathan gets in a fight.

Steve never stops beating himself up that he wasn’t there. Jonathanand Nancy were walking to Jonathan’s car after school, he could’ve met themthere, like he had so many times before. But he’d been working.

A group of guys had surrounded them, accused Jonathan ofbeing a fag, claimed they saw him kissing Steve Harrington. Jonathan saidnothing. So they ambushed him. Nancy, powerless against four 18-19 year oldsmuch bigger than her, got pushed away once, smacked the second time for tryingto stop them. They only stopped when a teacher started coming over to see whatwas going on.

Jonathan was barely conscious, and his car was closer thanthe teacher. Nancy hurried to put Jonathan in the backseat, then sped off,heading for the hospital. She yelled at Jonathan to stay awake until her voicewas nearly gone, drowned out by her sobs and the aching in her skull.

Less than twenty-four hours after Jonathan is dischargedfrom the hospital, Hopper comes by the Byers’, knowing he’ll find Nancy there.

She’s dozing on the couch, Jonathan’s head resting in herlap. Steve is sound asleep on Jonathan’s other side, his hand resting inJonathan’s hair, where he’d fallen asleep in the middle of running his fingersthrough it. Jonathan’s favorite, BladeRunner, is playing on the VCR for the fifth time that day. Neither Jonathannor Nancy have been to school since it happened.

Nancy wakes up slightly at hearing Hopper enter, and resumescounting the stitches on Jonathan’s face as if she’d never stopped. He almostlost vision in his right eye. Would he have still been able to do photography?She didn’t want to think about it.

“Nancy,” Hopper says, his large form blocking out thetelevision. She looks blearily up at him, can’t imagine why he’s there.

“We found them,” Hopper says, and holds two files out toher. She takes them.

“The boys that beat up Jonathan?” she asks, opening the topfile. In the low lamplight, she recognizes four mug shots.

“Yeah, they weren’t hard to find. But there’s somethingelse. The second file. Open it,” Hopper says in his gruff way, indicating thesecond file with a small flick of his wrist at her.

She opens the second file. It’s a case file from a precinctin Iowa. She scans the first page, zeroes in on the words “unsolved” and “suspectedhomicide”. The victim is only fourteen years old. Missing for nearly a week.

“The first victim outside Hawkins,” she whispers. She can’tmove her eyes from the document in front of her, even as her vision blurs, evenas she feels Jonathan stir beside her.

She looks directly up at Hopper, sees his guardedexpression. “You’re going to let me kill it,” she says, her voice louder.

“Nancy—”

“I turn eighteen in two weeks, you can’t stop me.” The filebegins to shake in her hands. Hopper takes it from her, not too quickly. Hekneels in front of her, so they’re at eye-level.

“If you break the law I can. Don’t go barreling into thisbefore we know what we’re up against.” His voice is more hushed than hers. He’snever forgotten that they bugged his trailer. Nancy knows they haven’t buggedanything now, and his unnecessary caution only angers her further. She clenchesher fists, swallows the words that want to break out.

Hopper doesn’t touch her. He knows better. But his eyes aresteady on hers. “Listen to me. We’re going to get it. But you have to let me takethe lead on this.”

Jonathan lifts his head from her lap, braces himself up onone arm. “Nancy? What is it?”

Nancy blinks, turns her head to face him. “Nothing. Hopper’shere. Do you need more meds?”

“I’ll get ‘em, Nance,” Steve’s voice, only a little heavyfrom sleep, sounds from Jonathan’s other side, and Nancy watches him rise andhead for the kitchen. She absently kisses the top of Jonathan’s head, puts herhand on his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Head is pounding,” Jonathan murmurs, laying his head backdown in her lap. She pets his hair, his shoulder, his arm, wishing she couldabsorb all his pain.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” Hopper says to Nancy. “Restup, kid.” And he reaches out and pats Jonathan’s shoulder, before rising.

“Thanks,” Jonathan says drowsily, and Nancy looks down tosee Jonathan closing his eyes again. Hopper opens the front door, puts hiscowboy hat back in place, and then he’s gone.

Steve comes back in with a glass of water and Jonathan’smeds, gives Nancy a hard look. She just shakes her head. Later. They all settle back on the couch, much as they were before.

Nancy focuses back on the movie. It’s about to end. Shewatches the Replicant become acorpse, the rain falling mercilessly over him. The stillness of his deathencompassing the entire screen.

Feeling the heavy warmth of Jonathan’s body against her,knowing she had almost lost him, makes her anger roil closer to the surface allover again. Her own words echo back at her. I want to kill it.

She feels Steve’s fingers skate over her own, and claspsthem. They exchange glances again, their joined hands resting on Jonathan’sback. Steve glances at the screen and back at her, and she knows he’d heard.Heard everything she just said to Hopper.

The understanding she sees in Steve makes relief and pridejoin her anger. She smiles at Steve, and he smiles back, reassuring. Death isn’t coming for them. It’s coming for any monster that dares step out of theUpside Down.

I’m going to kill it.

#nancy wheeler #steve harrington #jonathan byers #stoncy #stonancy #jim hopper #eleven #jane hopper #will byers #joyce byers #jopper #the last part wasnt supposed to get srs guys sorry #FLUFF TO ANGST YAAAAAAAAAAY #and back to fluff #my writing #message #anon #all the links are links to my own hcs/fic

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punchfacefist · 3 years

Text

A New Chapter: The Restoration

"Excuse me, but are you Ilirria Lightsong?" Ilirria angled the hefty tome she had been reading to view the source of the question. Standing, and fidgeting quite nervously, was a Blood Elf. She brushed strands of her short, bright gold hair out of her eyes. "I am," Ilirria answered, marking her place in the tome and setting it down. "How can I help you?" "You probably don't remember me," the Blood Elf girl answered, "Or, rather, you will remember me, but this may be the first time we've met for you, but you'll know me in the later, since we're meeting now, and I saw you in the then..." "Breathe," ilirria gestured to the girl to calm down for a moment. "Just tell me your name." The girl paused her thoughts, inhaling deeply, and choked a cough as the smoke in the Wyvern's Tail filled her lungs. She hacked for a moment longer, accepting the offered flask of water Ilirria held out for her. "I'm Tila," the girl introduced herself, having drained the water skin in one go. "Tiladormi Sunhammer." Ilirria sat back, resting comfortably against the tavern wall. "Don't think we've met." "Not before, no," Tiladormi answered, "I know you, that much is certain, and you will have need of my help soon." This, in itself, was a bold statement, if Ilirria had ever heard one, and many a time she'd heard her share of bold claims; usually from men who never gave her much say in the date they wanted to take her on. In the end, she turned them all down or stood them up, just to teach them no one speaks for her. "And what makes you think that?" Ilirria challenged Tiladormi's statement. Tiladormi pointed a manicured finger to the water skin Ilirria offered her, and as if inflated, it grew full and sloshed with water. Tiladormi drained it once more. "I am a Chronomancer," she answered, "And I've heard you're in need of another Chronomancer's help. And I figured, since the Sunhammer family owes a debt to the Lightsong family, this will repay that debt." Ilirria marked her place in the tome, closed it, and slid to the side of the table, now very much interested in hearing this girl out. "And what debt would that be?" she finally asked, intrigued to hear this Chronomancer's response. Tiladormi inhaled a moment--careful not to choke any more of the acrid atmosphere of the tavern--and found her words. "Back during the Second War," she began, "Your father saved my mother from a Horde arrow. My mother swore an oath to repay that debt to your family, a debt she couldn't fulfill when the Scourge invaded. It fell to me to repay the debt and fulfill her oath, but I had no idea where or how to find you. Until now." As Tila said all of this, Ilirria sensed her sincerity, the fact she took something this seriously, she knew she meant it. Her face weakened from the bubbly, sweet expression of a girl eager and willing to offer assistance, to someone burdened with a great weight cast on them. Ilirria took a moment as she considered her words, and found herself speechless in the moment. Tiladormi's eyes sparked with a hopeful glint behind them as she looks again to Ilirria. "I'm not fully aware of your whole situation, but I know you're in need of help. And I want to help, Ilirria, more than anything, I want to help you. Not often I get to use my Chronomancy for more than entertaining others." She leaned on the table between her and Ilirria. Ilirria reached forward, taking a hand into hers. "And I appreciate the offer," she finally answered. "Thank you, Tiladormi. I was hoping for the aid of a Chronomancer to test a hypothesis of mine." "Is it about your brother Imara'el?" Tila asked without a beat. "I've heard about that, and the Hyper-Temporal Overlap your brothers experienced." She took a beat to summon some knowledge from her mind. "I believe there is a way to restore them. But we'll need them presently to make sure. If you can get in contact with them, tell them to meet us in the Caverns of Time." Ilirria blinked, taken aback at Tila's knowledge. She wondered how much Tila did know already, and how much else she withheld. Perhaps, Ilirria, wondered, she gained some sort of insight from her future self, which would explain her introduction. Within a few days, Imara'el and Istaniel answered Ilirria's summons, and the four met. Imara'el looked unnatural to Ilirria, dressed in ragged mail and holstering a rifle on his back. The Light-bleached hair was replaced with the more natural molten copper she remembered him having at a younger age; he looked so much like mother in those days. Istaniel, on the other hand, was lively and ruggedly handsome, reminding Ilirria of father with the soft brown hair and beard. The brothers Lightsong were so different now, changed entirely. Their unsettling presence to Ilirria didn't help matters in this sandy place, where the air in this arid cavern quivered with an intensity of magic Ilirria could never quite attune herself to. It felt like her very body was a frail leaf in the midst of a swirling storm, the power of it capable of tearing her asunder. Tiladormi, at present, offered some reassurance, seated beside her brushing sand from the pages of her tome. "So we're here now," Imara'el was the first to speak at this meeting. "What's this all about?" "This is about helping you two," Tiladormi replied. "Ilirria thinks she may have a way to restore you." "It's a hypothesis at this point," Ilirria elaborated, "but with Tildormi's help, I might be able to make you whole, the way you were before." The brothers exchanged a glance to one another before returning their attentions to their older sister. "What makes you think that we aren't whole?" Istaniel asked. "I mean, I was kind of upset and surprised how different this timeline was to my own, but I like it here. I have my sister, I have my brother, I have the Doomguard to serve again. I'm fine with this." "Same here," Imara'el voiced his protestation. "Lira, I sacrificed myself to keep the whole fabric of reality to from shredding when Kraysh tried to destabilize my existence. I had to merge my body with another Imara'el from another timeline, but his world was doomed from the start. I'm back once more." "Not for long, though," Tiladormi spoke up. "It's something I noticed the moment I saw you two. No doubt you must have been feeling it recently, too; some headaches that won't go away, nervous convulsions, nausea no doubt." "What are you talking about?" Ilirria asked. "Their bodies are deteriorating," Tiladormi answered. "In a way, the destruction of their own timelines is catching up to them. They're deteriorating in the same manner as their own Azeroth. It's only been prolonged because they were shifted from a different timeline. They're slowly, and probably painfully, going to die." The silence that fell upon the siblings Lightsong was palpable and impossible for any of them to break. "Is it too late to ask for that to not happen?" Imara'el asked finally. "We will have to make haste to prevent it," Tiladormi responded. "In a few days, we will need to converge in the Bronze Dragonshrine in Northrend. The temporal energies there will be sufficient to draw upon. There we can anchor Ima and Stan back to our timeline and pull versions of them from parallel timelines more stable." There was a full moon over Northrend, and a chill in the air that conflicted with the warmth of the magic permeating the sandy area of the Bronze Dragonshrine. Ironic, Ilirria thought, that the last place Imara'el was last seen, would be the same place to bring him back. While she was lost in her thoughts, Tiladormi was busily drawing a circle in the sands around them, marking runes and places to stand. She studied the tome levitating beside her, ensuring she drew the markings properly. "How is this supposed to work?" Stan asked, standing at the edge of the drawn circle. "For starters, anything you're wearing from this timeline has to be removed," TIladormi answered, still fixated on her tome and drawing the designs in the sand. "Armor?" Ima asked. "Armor, weapons, clothes, everything, otherwise it will interfere with the magical frequencies of the ritual." "Strip down naked in one of the coldest areas of Azeroth," Ima scoffed, "that doesn't sound like a red flag or anything!" "Don't be such a baby," Ilirria snapped. "I've seen you both naked enough times as children, there's nothing much to look at." The two groaned and stripped. Ilirria leaned over to Tila, who looked like she very much enjoyed the show. "Is it really necessary?" Ilirria asked concerned, "the whole stripping down, thing?" "No," Tila shrugged at her and smiled deviously. "But can't say no to a good show, can you?" Lira took a moment to process that. "They're my brothers." she stubbornly reminded Tila. "If anyone has to make my brothers do anything humiliating for my amusement, it's going to be me." "Fair enough," Tila sighed. "Just have to draw one more rune, and we can begin." Imara'el and Stan stood side by side stripped naked in the center of the circle drawn in sand. Ilirria stood on the outer edge facing Ima's left shoulder, and Tiladormi doing the same on Istaniel's side. The two mages clapped their hands together, and pressed them palms down into the circle. Ilirria felt the power she held flow up from her depths, coursing through her being and into her arms and hands. Her mana flowed blue through the sand, filling out the circle and drawing it more clearly around her brothers' feet. "Put more mana into it," Tiladormi instructed. "Once the circle is complete, the ritual will begin." Ilirria doubled her efforts, pouring her mana to flow across the circle. On the other side, she could see the iridescence of Tila's own mana, a bright shade of golden-yellow trace the circle from her side. The outer circles were traced in mana, and channels spiraling center-ward filled and surrounded Ima and Stan. The last lines were drawn, and Ilirria felt as her mana mixed with Tila's. In that moment, she could see TIladormi's life play out before her: a girl blessed by a bronze dragon in disguise at birth, capable of planting a seed, and growing it to bloom, then to wilt, then to revert to seed with but a twitch of her hand. Her parents feared her power, but loved her still. She was so lonely, unable to share her gift with anyone. She was even worse off when her parents never returned from the Second War. She reminded Ilirria a great lot of herself, what she had and was capable of, and all the ones she loved and lost. The circle shimmered and rippled in the sand, the runes drawn floated and danced upon the area around Ima and Stan. Images, almost like large, unwieldy soap bubbles, formed in the air around the brothers, each one beholding moments in their lives that played out. They were familiar to Ilirria, some more than others, but all the same they were her brothers. She concentrated, and poured her mana forth into the circle. "Chains of the Timeless," Tiladormi began an incantation, "Tether the vessels to the plane and rewrite the stone upon the past is written. Allow the lost to be found, and reborn upon the plane. I call forth the powers of time to reshape the sands of time." In a brilliant display of her power, Tiladormi's mana in the circle overshadowed Ilirria's, consuming her in the light of her magic. Time stilled. The air was stifling and unmoving. A pillar of light was caught mere yards above Imara'el and Istaniel, like a heavenly bolt of power cast from the Titans themselves. Ilirria could barely move in the thick viscous air, but she could see and feel everything going on. IN the distance, some yards away behind Tila, a shadow looked to be observing the ritual. Something about it felt familiar, the only features Ilirria could make out were the two glowing pinpricks of its eyes, cold and blue, piercing her through to her soul. In the midst of all this, the light bolt descended another few inches. Time resumed. The force of the impact knocked Ilirria backward, to sprawl onto the sand. Her muscles stung, her hands ached and every movement caused her body to cry in protest. Slowly, she picked herself back up, relishing the chance to breathe air in a malleable state rather than a temporal static form. The sand circle was blow clear, erased from the ground which it was drawn, and much like her, Tiladormi was on her back, spread eagle. She glanced about, seeing no sign of her brothers, and her mind raced to understand what could have happened to them. "Did it work?" she asked, unsure she'd like the answer. "As well as I could have guessed," Tiladormi answered weakly. "Pretty sure that was what we wanted to happen." "Then where are my brothers?" Ilirria asked, overwhelmed with panic. "Exactly where they should be in the world," Tila answered. "We did it, Ilirria. We brought them back." In that moment, Ilirria's hearthstone sounded. It was faint, like static, but through it, she could hear her brother Imara'el's voice. There was no mistaking it, and quickly as it became clearest, it was gone. That gave itself into a truth Ilirria could hardly contain, and was proof enough for her that Tila did exactly what she proved to her. Imara'el had returned.

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micahrodney · 3 years

Text

Thread; Prologue

The following was a commissioned piece for MatthewCaveatZealot.

Prologue “We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.” - Carl Sagan, Cosmos

Neil was racing down a corridor made up of alien stonework. The stone was silvery with glowing veins of a strange azure plasma. There had been no beginning, and as far as the young man could tell, no end. The streaks of blue became a blur which slowly faded, first into indigo and then a deep impenetrable violet.

“Is anybody there?!” Neil cried, feeling the walls closing in around him. “I need help! Please help me!”

This one rejects realignment.

The words were coming from inside Neil's own mind, and yet they seemed to echo through the halls; loud as an explosion but soft as a whisper.

“Who is that? Where am I?”

Another entity spoke next, in a deep monotone. It was as rigid as the rock around him; stern, unyielding, judgmental. The voice of a god who cared nothing for his subjects.

It cannot be altered. Its thread is broken.

The original speaker now cried out defiantly, over the first. They sounded almost feminine but it was impossible to tell. He had never heard anything like it before. With each word she spoke, her meaning seemed to manifest through the fabric of reality itself. Every sentence was a pronouncement, each phrase gospel.

Not broken! The threads cannot be broken! This is his doing.

“Who are you talking about? Where are you?”

Neil whipped his body around desperate to find the source of the conversation. As he spun the hallway began to fade, consumed by blackness. Yet Neil did not lose consciousness. He rode on invisible torrents of energy which swept him this way and that.

No crossroad will accept this one. No thread binds this one. It is an anomaly. An error.

Not an error! His is a spark. A Binder, no doubt.

Nonsense. Mortal. Temporal. Finite. It is unheard of.

The threads twist and tangle. It was inevitable.

A bright explosion of vermilion nearly ruptured Neil's corneas. There was an intense weight from his stomach that pulled him towards the calamity. Within moments thin white pinpricks of light dotted the blackness around him. The twinkling was so faint at first that it took Neil several moments to process what they were.

“Stars?”

A massive rock barely missed him as he sailed towards the sea of infinity stretched out before him. The boulder seemed to grow as it sailed further from Neil, expanding to the size of an asteroid and then a small moon. By the time it was planet-sized, there was a lurch that sent the waylaid dreamer rocketing in another direction. Relative to how Neil was facing, it was “down”, but floating in this distant pocket of space the actual trajectory was anyone's guess.

Rippling pockets of energy surrounded him as he fell through the wormhole. Neil could only scream as the sensation of rocketing towards certain doom overrode any other thought. When the hellish ride was over, he was floating freely around a cluster of stars. Though they were far too bright to look directly at, the visual symphony of their reflected hues on the varied celestial bodies around him was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever beheld. Blue, yellow, red, orange, and purest white, cascading in beams across a field of asteroids and moons, at the center of which lay a majestic planet.

The waters covered nearly all of its surface and the few large landmasses were vibrant green, untouched by anything other than nature. Life radiated from the planet, welcoming and warm. This was it; Neil had died, and this was surely the paradise that awaited him in the endless beyond.

Suddenly, a great red tear formed in the middle of the largest continent; an eruption. This was larger than any volcano, it was as if the very planet itself was being rent asunder.

This one defiles the thread. It must be purged!

It is not his doing, he doesn't understand his power.

No power. Finite. Error. We will purge it.

All existence ruptured as the planet was destroyed in an apocalyptic fireball, which sent cascading waves of liquid flame towards the young man. He tried to cover his face, in hopes of limiting the unbearable pain which awaited him.

It never came.

Lowering his arms, he found himself on firm ground, in the middle of a verdant field. A lone mountain towered over him but otherwise, the plains were surrounded by water. Seagulls cried overhead, barely audible over the crashing waves.

You have realigned this one?

No. I have saved it from your purge. It can transition. It remembers both the old and the new thread, and neither is its point of origin.

Impossible. Temporal. Finite. Mortal.

Possible, if you would only open your eyes and see what I've been saying. This one is not temporal. Not finite. Mortal, yes, but only temporarily. He will transcend, and join the other Somni.

“Who are you people?” Neil shouted, getting rather sick of these disembodied voices speaking about him as if he were not there. “What's happening to me?”

Curious.

Indeed curious. But nonetheless, inevitable, as I said before. He is a Binder.

Neil felt a hand on his shoulder, smooth but steadying. He started and turned around to face something utterly incomprehensible. The entity seemed to be made up of the stars themselves, roughly humanoid in shape, outlined by a thin purple line of translucence that contained the shimmering beacons. A particularly large white sun was in roughly the spot of the creature's face, and it pulsed gently as it spoke.

“You are human. Finite. Temporal. Mortal,” said the being in the same deep rigid voice that had moments ago had declared its intent to destroy him.

Neil found himself stunned into silence for a moment, unable to respond.

It had been over a year since he took an interest in perfecting lucid dreaming. At first, he could only direct the general course of his dreams, and within a few months, he had gotten to the point where he could make conscious decisions about what to do, fully aware of the fact that he was still asleep. He almost felt as though he was truly awake, but he had never crossed that threshold into genuinely tricking his senses into believing he was within another world.

Not until tonight.

But he didn't feel in control of this dream. And the longer the fantasy went on, the more genuine it felt. He tried to grasp at what could possibly be happening and even allowed himself the briefest glimmer of a possibility that this wasn't a dream.

“My name is Neil,” he finally stammered out, holding up a hand in a flimsy attempt at a greeting. “Who are you?”

“We are Somni. Infinite. Boundless. Immortal,” the entity replied. “You may call us Rem. We speak for the Dreamer.”

“The Dreamer? You mean me?” Neil asked. “So I am asleep after all.”

“Tiny dream. Immaterial. Phantasmic. Yours is not the Great Dream,” Rem replied solemnly. “Yet you seem to play a part within it.”

“The Great Dream?” Neil scratched his head. “I'm confused.”

Another Somni appeared just beside Rem, taller and more slender. This was clearly the other speaker Neil had heard.

“All will be explained in time,” she declared, her tone soothing and motherly. “I am Nox. And you are a very special mortal.”

Before Neil could resume asking the slew of questions that continued to flow through his mind, the eruption started again.

“This thread is also collapsing. Kosmaro follows this one with great interest,” Rem noted. “Hopeless. Endless. Chaos.”

“We will talk again, Binder of the Great Dream,” Nox said, placing her hand on his chest. “Do not be afraid.”

The collapse of the planet happened within seconds, but once again Neil was hurtled through space, seemingly into an endless abyss of blackness. There were no more stars or celestial bodies, and for a time there was still disquieting peace.

Then Neil realized he was no longer floating. He struggled against bonds made of silvery light, fastened tightly around his wrists and ankles, securing him to a translucent web. Beneath him was a black pit, fathomless deep. Neil's stomach quaked at the realization that being bound was all that kept him from the maw. His brown hair tangled in the springy thread, and the ever-present void below him made any attempt at escape futile.

A low guttural growl echoed up from the bottom of the pit, and a thin pinprick of green light wormed its way up from the depths. In response, a chorus of wails and shrieks rang out just above him. The agony of a million voices seemed to reverberate throughout every strand of the trap. The threads started to shake as the green light grew, now consuming the pit entirely. Neil forced himself to look away from the subtle, hypnotic light. His gaze fell skyward, and he screamed.

The spider – if it could even be called that – clicked its pincers menacingly as it lowered its teeth towards Neil. Oblivion was approaching, and Neil could do nothing to stop it. The green light now filled the entire chamber, and he saw that it was full of webs just like his, each with hundreds of thousands of people held captive in sinewy strands.

His bonds broke, the screaming now filled his very soul and Neil Brown fell down, down, down...

#writing commission scifi fantasy shortstory serial cosmichorror dream

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half-italy-half-austria · 7 years

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Werewolf ideas

Brought on by this post, but I go far beyond clothing in this.

I have a thing where I made up (or perhaps just grouped together, idk) several werewolf species that have different properties, however I’ve really only focused on one, so I’ll do the basic gist of three and pretty much all of the other one.

One species only transforms on full moons, which causes clothing to get ruined if they don’t get naked beforehand.

Another can transform at will (even during a full moon) and their clothes sort of “go with them” during the transformation and come back when they enter human form.

The third (which is the one I’ve fleshed out the most, so it’s really the first but whatever) is called Lupus Grandifauna, mainly because the people who fall under that category (males specifically, though females are no less imposing) get REALLY huge during a transformation. I based “grandifauna” on the term “grandiflora,” which is a cultivar of roses that are known for having large blooms. In human form Grandifauna men range in size almost as well humans, however the amount of above average sized men is much larger in quantity. Grandifauna men may also experience what I’ve called equilibrium, in which they may have been of average human size (or smaller, or bigger, or really anything) at one point, but due to an increased number of transformations (i.e. frequently transforming when not under a full moon), their height and musculature increase. While the transformations under a full moon may contribute to equilibrium, they will not have such a drastic effect as excessive transformations at will. Put simply: More big doggo=bigger manno. Grandifauna fall under the category of being able to transform at will and also being forced to transform on a full moon. Just like the second group I mentioned, when they do it at will, their clothes get preserved in the process, but their clothes can potentially get wrecked on a full moon, just like the first group. Grandifauna are humanoid from the knees up (about 3/4 the body minus the head, which is, you guessed it, a big wolf’s head) and possess the lower hind legs of (Shocker!) wolves, as well as having humanoid hands tipped by large claws. The structure of their legs allows them to stand upright like bipeds as well as sit, lie, and run like quadrupeds. Male Grandifauna are beasts with a massive, densely packed musculature coursing with extreme brute strength, whereas females possess long, graceful bodies capable of much higher agility and movement. While females on average are physically weaker, their strength is not something to misjudge, especially when combined with their high speed, mobility, and greater stealth capabilities. Males, despite their size are experts at stealth as well, but to a lesser degree. While a male may be able to silently track a herd of deer, the female is often the one to invade and kill off several before the herd notices, that way the male will still have a share should he not catch enough for himself.

In the case of equilibrium, I have a character who, in wolf form, is 10 feet tall standing upright and about 700 pounds, which is massive even for a grandifauna (they average 7.5-8 feet) and in human form he’s 6'5" and 300 lbs. Before a certain plot development he was 6′0 and 210 pounds, and because he began frequently searching for something in wolf form his height and weight increased, his transformations actually becoming so frequent that even his wolf form increased in size.

The fourth group is like the second, but they have an additional trait which is that the brightness of the moon affects their speed, full being the fastest, and new being the slowest. Other than that, there isn’t much of a difference.

In addition, there is a fifth group of werewolves known as the “Moonless,” which is a nice way of saying they can’t transform. The Moonless have to wear half moon necklaces depicting the First Quarter (the half moon before the full moon) to indicate their status in their communities. In old times the moonless were persecuted for being “essentially human failures” (ouch, right?), but modern communities are much more accepting of them. However, some still hold prejudice toward them, which is why they are given more security in the community than others due to the fact that they are still frequently attacked by members of their own kind. In the past, Moonlessness was thought to be a curse from the Moon Goddess, but modern science determined it was brought on by a rare gene. As mentioned before, the Moonless are essentially human, meaning they heal at the same rate and have the same average body temperature. They really are no different from humans aside from the fact that their blood doesn’t register as human on a DNA/blood test.

There is also Induced Moonlessness, in which an individual goes to the local witch/magical family (witches/sorcerers and all that jazz often get along well with werewolves) and buys a necklace or other piece of jewelry that catches their fancy (watches, rings, etc.) that is enchanted in a way that suppresses the wolf form, whether it be forced transformations under a full moon, or transformations brought on by those unable to control their emotions (read: rage). Induced Moonlessness is indicated on said jewelry by a Third Quarter moon, which is the half moon after the full. Some choose Induced Moonlessness of their own volition, whereas others are forced into it, usually because they have poor self control, criminal backgrounds, or both (instead of jewelry, which can be removed, the witch curses the individual.) Those with Induced Moonlessness still retain their accelerated healing rates and higher body temperature (around 105 degrees Fahrenheit).

As for reproduction, children (commonly referred to as pups) can be conceived in human or wolf form by way of sexual intercourse. It is believed a child is likely to be a better wolf when conceived in wolf form by its mother, and especially so on the night of a full moon. Conception in werewolves is the same as in humans, meaning it can take a few hours or up to 5 days for the egg to become fertilized. Should conception occur before the end of the full moon, the mother may be unable to transform into a human until after giving birth. Gestation is also the same as in humans: 9 months (about 40 weeks). Should the mother be unable to become human again she is often brought to an area of the community made specially for her and other expectant mothers, wherein they receive fresh meat and groomings from caretakers. Contrary to popular belief, most werewolves retain a large portion of their mentalities in beastly form, however mothers may become territorial and only allow mates and trusted friends into their areas. Mothers in beastly form will often give birth to a pup at night, after which the pup changes into an infant in the early morning. Other times both will retain beastly form until the child has been weaned off suckling the mother’s teat. Giving birth on the night of a full moon is considered good luck.

This leads us to imprinting, of which there are two kinds: child to mother and mate to mate. Child to mother imprinting happens when a newborn “latches on” to its mother as its primary source of care until it can move and (to a small degree) hunt on its own. The parents still have to watch over the child, but it can’t be considered fully defenseless. In some cases, children may imprint on the wrong mother and find difficulty adjusting when informed that the person to whom it has become so attached is not, in fact, its actual mother.

Mate to mate imprinting is when a werewolf feels an inexplicable connection to another (usually werewolf) individual, which results in them seeing that person and that person only as a mate. Very rarely will a werewolf imprint on another who does not reciprocate, which can lead to violent outbreaks and even acts of murder. Such behavior leads to the instigator being shunned, forced out of the community, cursed with Induced Moonlessness, or a combination of the three. As each community is different, they often welcome those who were forced out of others, but still take precautionary measures depending on the individual’s past. Should a werewolf lose a mate (by death, most commonly), they often find life difficult to continue, to the point where they may take their own lives or go live out their lives in isolation. Imprinting can also be extremely dangerous if one of the mates is abusive. In the worst situations, because the victim and the abuser have both imprinted, it is effectively impossible to get them away from one another, and attempting to do so may wind up in several deaths, including that of the victim, should the extremely possessive abuser become enraged. Due to a rise in mental health and welfare concerns, community members may ban together and perform an intervention to send the couple to counseling.

Small notes:

All of my species might possess a recessive gene that causes immortality. Some may get it, others may be carriers, and some don’t have it at all.

Werewolf communities (mine, at least) are very accepting of LGBT+ people. It’s generally believed all members of the pack are important (by most, ‘cause there’s always that one asshole.)

Thanks to @shawnlenore because I just randomly stumbled across their post someone had reblogged and subsequently spent a few hours writing this. It doesn’t really go with the post, but the post inspired all this stuff I just wrote, and I’m normally a very silent person online, so I want to thank them for making me want to voice my ideas for the first time.

I’ll put a link to the post here at the bottom, too. Just in case.

If anyone wants to use these, please ask/credit me.

And thank you to whoever took the time to read this, because it turned into something much longer than I thought it would be. You’re cool, and you get a nose boop.

#werewolves #my post #my ideas #long post

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promptistrashqueen · 7 years

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Rí Gealach/Rí Ghrian

Knights and Kings AU 3

The King’s shoulders are tight, his back straight, and his dark hair brushed back in a way that Prompto is not used to seeing. The curving silver circlet, shaped like the tendrils of magic that he’s seen pour from the man’s hands, sits gracefully. Prompto knows though, the weight of the crown, the weight of the ring that graces slender fingers as his King gestures for the Oracle, High Priestess of Shiva and the Vanishing Isle, to approach.

Lunafreya’s beauty has been said to still mortal men but Prompto finds his gaze drawn to the light colored Fyglia at her heels instead, the dog-shaped being seems to be amused at this as it tilts its head and makes a small yipping sound that the rest discount.

“Lady Lunafreya, you grace us with your presence here. To what do we owe the attention of the White Lady?”

Noctis’ voice is strong and Prompto’s gaze returns to him. He stands just behind Gladiolus to the King’s right, his traditional place as the third member of Noctis’ guard, Ignis stands at Noctis’ shoulder, advisor to the King. The Lady’s gaze flashes to him and he blinks in surprise, Lunafreya is not known for her distraction.

“My thanks, King Noctis, for your welcome. I have come to heal those touched by the Unseelie blight and to make report of your rule to our order. The Mad God has been stirring of late and we believe he may pay you a visit soon, it would be prudent to be sure you are all prepared.”

The last she addresses to the room at large and Prompto see’s the way that Clarus, Regis, and Cor glance at one another from their positions at the front of the receiving Nobles. Nyx and Crowe, stationed at the back wall draw his attention next, their tension obvious to those who know them. He forces himself to pay attention to Noctis and Lunafreya though, as they are not yet finished.

“My Lady, we welcome your counsel on such matters and thank you sincerely for the offer of healing. You are free to do as you see fit in all such regard, but I am sure you are tired and we are near finished with the matters of the day. Please, find comfort in these halls and join me for dinner?”

Prompto tries not to be jealous of the warmth that Noctis carries for his old friend, or of the way that many of the nobles titter of a joining of the Order of Shiva and the Lucian bloodline. He mostly succeeds as Lunafreya curtsies gracefully and assents to the King’s wishes.

Noctis is quick to dismiss court for the evening afterward and Prompto swallows the feeling of being forgotten when the King sweeps out of the room (really it’s only sweeping because of the cape that Ignis put on him, otherwise it’s just slouching). Gladiolus follows Noctis but he presses a hand quickly to Prompto’s shoulder and the blonde briefly wishes he were not so transparent.

Ignis stays beside him and they watch the room clear together before the advisor turns to him.

“He’s merely excited, Lunafreya did not have time for idle chatter after the coronation. Now, you and I have some stances to work through I believe?”

Prompto usually groans about training with Ignis, but it’s a welcome offer of distraction now. His skin has felt too small for several days and he knows he’s being ridiculously edgy lately, especially with this whole thing. It’s never bothered him this much when Luna comes and he can’t place why he feels like he’s going to turn inside out.

Ignis’ brow furrows in concern and he straightens his own cloak, heavy and formal, that conveniently hides the button down shirt and slacks he prefers to the robes of his station. Prompto takes a deep breath and nods to him.

“I’ve got a change of clothes in the chamber, it’ll give Noct and Luna time to catch up before dinner.”

Ignis accepts his answer but he can see the concern still lacing the man's expression as they walk together toward the training halls. He can feel it again, the well of something in his gut and it’s made worse by the heavy traditional armor he wears to court. The black metal is annoying, though the body suit beneath is quite functional and he toys with the idea of simply training in it instead of bothering to put back on his tank top and cargo pants.

When they finish Prompto feels pleasantly stretched. His mental walls are growing stronger and his ability to call on Noctis’ magic seems to be growing despite Ignis’ assertions that he appears to have a block around it. It’s no where near as strong as it should be, he knows that. He may have the best line on following the magic back to Noctis and might just be the closest to the King but he can barely cast for himself.

He usually jokes about his shortcomings but now, laying on the mat as Ignis changes into his own fresh clothing for dinner, he can’t help but compare his very limited abilities to Lunafreya’s. The growing frustration makes his out of place feeling worse and he sighs, closing his eyes and trying to focus again on finding that tiny notch in his mind that allows him to access the flow of Lucian power.

He’s so deep that he doesn’t realize Ignis is trying to warn him until Gladio’s playful movement is made dangerous. The big man spotted him and made a quick motion with his sword, fully expecting Prompto to roll away from the flat edge of the blade before it could do any damage.

The shield yells his name as soon as it’s clear it’s going to hit with bruising force. Prompto’s blue eyes are gold when they snap open and there’s an odd moment of blur. Gladiolus’ blade slams into the mat but he and Ignis are both staring at Prompto who’s standing next to the far wall with fading golden light dancing over his skin.

“Wha-what?”

He stutters out, swaying and collapsing as the magic takes it’s toll. Ignis turns to Gladio with wide eyes, spotting King Noctis frozen in the doorway beyond, eyes locked on his consort.

His voice is strong however as he commands, “Bring Luna.”

“A changeling?”

Lunafreya nods as the small brownie rolls it’s eyes at the King, clearly exasperated with the way he keeps asking the same questions. The small fey appeared as soon as they moved Prompto to the medical wing and started clambering over the blonde, chattering in a language lost to man before switching to very old gaelic, something Ignis could mostly grasp at least.

“Changelings are supposed to only stay with humans until they’re teenagers though! They feel the call of the faerie realm and leave us after a time and Prompto’s nearing his twenty-first autumn...I don’t understand.”

Noctis no longer sounds like a King, he sounds and looks likes a kid with messy hair who’s afraid for his best friend and it pulls at Lunafreya’s heart. She watches as Noctis moves to stand at the head of Prompto’s bed, gently moving hair out of his face and studying him. It’s clearer now, after the magic had burst through. There’s a shimmer over his skin and his hair appears to be haloed in light despite the lack of any source.

The brownie watches Noctis closely, his small face pinched in concentration, before he moves, walking over the mattress beside Prompto’s shoulder, small salve bottles hanging from his belt clinking with his steps.

Gladiolus tracks the little man’s movement so carefully Luna would think he expects him to grow ten feet at attack, but she supposes it’s his job.

His small brown hands come to rest on the King’s thumb, covering half of the digit but stilling Noctis just the same.

“Sun rí tá codlata amháin, eagla ní ghealach na linne. Is breá leis tú, agus nach féidir a fhágáil.”

The small man’s voice is deep and Noctis frowns at him, understanding only pieces of the mostly dead language. Ignis though makes a low noise and Lunafreya’s eyes widen.

“Noctis you did not say you had found a lover…”

Noctis’ head jerks at the words, it was meant to be a secret after all and he looks at the little brownie again but the small man is patting Prompto’s freckled cheek and grumbling as he searches his patchwork pockets for something.

“I-I didn’t...we were never...what did he say?”

Luna smiles at the concern and stress she see’s in the King and repeats the brownie’s words. “Leighas says “Sun King is only sleeping, fear not our moon. He loves you, and can not leave.” He...it appears your Prompto is someone very important to the Fae and I’d bet that Leighas was answering your question about changelings. Prompto has stayed with us mortals all this time because he loves you so. Has he been acting strange lately?”

Noctis frowns but Ignis is the one who answers her, “Yes, he’s been unfocused and fidgets a great deal more than usual. He’s a great painter but I have not seen him work for many days. He confided in me earlier this evening that he felt as though his own skin was the wrong size...I think we can safely say why now.”

Luna hums as Noctis nods in confirmation of the words, his gaze returning to Prompto’s face as Leighas carefully spreads thin lines of red over his cheekbones, the little brownie ignoring them in favor of painting the blonde’s skin.

“We can decide little while he rests. I’m sure that it is simply the toll of using so much power in one go, since he has little enough experience with it still, that keeps him from us now. I will to bed, dinner will have to wait until another day I’m afraid Noctis...for now we need to decide how to proceed. If Leighas is correct, Prompto is a Faerie King whose heart has chosen you...it would be prudent to seek the council of the Seelie Court, especially if the Mad God is coming.”

Noctis nods to her but she can see his focus is still on Prompto who is starting to look very unearthly with his power shimmering around him and Leighas careful designs dancing over his flesh.

Ignis and her leave without a word, Gladiolus settling against the wall to give Noctis space as he pulls a chair close to the narrow bed Prompto lays on. The brownie glances at him and Noctis devotes himself to watching the small man work.

“He’ll be alright. Kids tough, and hell, apparently magical as you.”

“Thanks Gladio...I’m sure you’re right.”

The shield makes a grunting agreement and they lapse back into silence. Noctis isn’t so worried about Prompto’s health now, but about how he’s going to be changed now that his heritage has been unlocked. He can already see the alien fae under the familiar face and his heart clenches...he has heard of many changelings wearing a glamour...what does Prompto truly look like?

#mixed religions #Knights and Kings Au #Knights and Kings #Fanfiction #FFXV fanfiction #Promptis #Lunafreya #Ignis #Gladiolus #Noctis #Prompto #FFXV #Gaelic #the fae #faeries #brownies

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kaldoreiyarns · 6 years

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The Nightsaber, the Hawk, and the Mighty Oak

[Note: This was not written by me, but by my husband HorusRe who plays Myth’s brother, uncle and mother in WoW when needed, so here’s a story of them coming together over conflicting ideas on what to do with Myth with mentions of Iyora and dear Ourrin.]

It had been a long time since Milyurae had been to the Darkshore and she had only once before set foot inside the great tree those of her ilk knew as “Staghelm’s last mistake”, but it was high time she had made the journey from her isolated home in Feralas. It had been too long, by her count at any rate, since her youngest child had left home for adventure and experience in distant parts of Kalimdor.

Elune curse all Panderans and thrice damn the female that had served as principle lure away from the relative safety of their jungle sanctuary, for it required her to follow suit and also leave the comfort of that tree home and the protection afforded by proximity to the veteran experience of General Feathermoon.

She was not impressed by Darnassus, for in her eyes the whole affair of Teldrassil was a mistake of no small error, so she walked through its stone and wood buildings with hardly a sideways glance. She was a soldier on a mission, a personal mission, so she made the beeline from the portal leading from the village of Rut’theran into the druidic region of the city in the clouds. She suspected she would not catch her youngest unannounced, she was a practical female after all, but she knew her oldest trained with Jartsam Skybright. Though she had little knowledge or experience with Jartsam she still had no desire to improve upon that situation, as he was the brother of the elf that broke her heart and left her pregnant with Mythlleass, but if that was where her elder child resided and trained that is where she would go first. Lhor’jonei might know where she can find her wayward youngest.

She was in luck. As she approached the semicircular crescent of tree buildings she saw her eldest child tending to a large equine beast, one of the horses brought by the refugees from Gilneas no doubt. She had to wonder why the humans had not yet returned to their own lands and their own home. The beast spotted her approach before her son, but Lhor was an amazingly perceptive druid and had a keen instinct for the behaviors of animals, so he knew someone was approaching the moment the horse did. He cast an eye aside and then returned to his work as Milyurea approached calmly. Her footsteps near to soundless, such is the innate grace of their agile kind.

“Bright greetings, mother,” Lhor said softly, in the rolling melody of the Darnassian tongue, in a calm voice to let the animal know that the unknown female striding to them was not a threat. A comforting hand on the animals withers.

“Bright greetings, son,” the female replied with a tender smile and a merry tone. She stopped well short of the pair as though horses were not especially well known to her people she still had a respect and sense for animals. One does not survive Feralas and not hone such animal skills.

Lhor finished with what he was doing and muttered something gentle to the animal in the human common tongue, which made Milyurae curl her lip and wrinkle her tongue at the coarse nature of the indelicate language, and then he handed the animal off to a human male standing not far away and wiped his dirty hands off on his trousers as he stepped toward his mother.

The pair embraced, as a parent and an adult child are wont to, and then Lhor put his calloused hand in the small of her back and lead her gently to a lean-to like structure where many of the tools of the animal trade were to be found.

“What brings you to Darnassus?” he asked gently though his expression told her the question was entirely rhetorical.

“My children,” she replied with a smirk at him. It wasn’t entirely untrue after all, but it was a defensive tactic to deflect his subtle probing.

“Oh? The both of us?”

She sat down in silence for the moment as Lhor washed and then dipped a ladle into a large tub of fresh water and doled out two tin cups of water for the two of them.

“Yes,” she replied as she gratefully accepted the drink. “Is Mythlleass around?”

Lhor chuckled and took a seat on the hard packed dirt floor beside his mother.

“Well, I am curious as to why you think he would still be in Darnassus? The last letter I wrote you that mentioned him was months ago.”

“Myth still writes me,” she countered with a wry grin back at her son.

Lhor nodded and chuckled again. “So he tells me, but he also has mentioned that he has not written you in some time as well. Which means you came based on assumption or other information.”

“So, he is around?”

Lhor nodded with a noncommittal smile.

“He is around the city, probably, but I am not his keeper. He goes where he likes.”

Her eyes narrowed and she gleaned more from the statement than perhaps Lhor intended.

“So, the Pandaren is no longer pulling on his leash?”

Lhor sighed softly and took a drink of his water.

“No mother, she does not,” he replied in a slightly flat tone. “She has not been present as his trainer in some time, and she never did control him to my knowledge. The tightest reigns Mythlleass labored under were placed there by another.”

“Oh?” Milyurae asked, concerned and bristling a bit at the concept that some other person had come along to brow beat her beloved youngest offspring.

Lhor’jonei nodded softly and looked to his mother with a sharp expression. “Yes, mother.”

She nodded to him to continue and caused him to sigh heavily as he looked at her with a mix of bewilderment and frustration to his countenance.

“You.”

She balked visibly and backed up slightly, almost as if she had been struck, but she retained her seat and stared at her son waiting for clarification on the statement.

“Mother, I love you dearly, you were the Moon in my eyes until I could feel Elune’s grace for myself in temple… but you have stifled my brother under your affections, you have stymied his growth in an effort to protect him, and you have shackled him to you no matter the distance that he places between the two of you.”

Milyurae sat there without issuing a word as she was too stunned to speak. Lhor saw that she was hurt by his words, and he did sympathize with her, but he had held his tongue for too long on the subject and her presence in Darnassus, uninvited, was an insult to his sense of duty. It stoked the defensive fires he felt for a younger sibling that he had helped raise.

“How… dare you,” she started with a swiftly building fury flickering in her breast, before Lhor slammed a lid down on it as he interrupted her.

“I dare a great deal mother,” he said sternly, as if he was the parent and she was the child. “I have walked the Emerald Dream. I am a fully recognized member of the Cenarion Circle and a druid in good standing for the last century. I have less than a percent of your age and experience and yet I seem to see this situation far clearer than you. You are blinded by the sins of Myth’s father, hurt by memories and ghosts, and you fail to see what your sense of motherly devotion has done to my brother. You have not been a Sentinel in over three hundred years, so do not think to impune me with a station you set aside voluntarily. In this situation, Miluyrae Shadesword, you will listen and I, as a druid and member of the Cenarion Circle, shall speak.”

Again she was stunned. She always knew her eldest child was made of a stern material. Before most of his age were expected to consider adulthood he was thrust into adult roles. When Ourrin vanished on her, leaving her pregnant and still an active duty Huntress in the Sentinel Army, she found herself alone for the second time in her life. Lhor’s father, the love of her life, had been dead for a century and she had raised Lhor’jonei mostly alone through that turbulent time. He was old enough to know his father was gone and for months he cried and tried to understand the loss. At that young age there was an aspect of blaming himself for his daddy “going away”, but he became amazingly self reliant and responsible in a very short period of time. Then along came Myth and he had to mature again before his time. He became the surrogate father in their little trinity, Milyurae always delighted in how strong Lhor became and how early… at least until this moment. His strength had trumped her and she knew, despite her annoyance to the truth, that he was right in many ways.

“You let me go when I was two centuries younger than Mythlleass to become a druid,” he continued with a firm tone but less unquestionable authority. “You released me into the care of druids long before was the norm however you kept Mythlleass under your thumb for far longer than is the norm for any other. Even when all he wished was to train as a cook at Feathermoon Stronghold you denied him the freedom to be. You could not even entrust him into the care of Sentinel Sisters and their support staff. You protected him from himself.”

“Because Mythlleas doesn’t know what he wants,” she said with a furrowed brow but a light tone.

“No mother, he didn’t not know what he wanted,” he admitted with a soft nod but a continuation of the firm tone. “Because you never let him decide anything for himself. You were training him to become like you, a warrior, a hunter, but you never wanted him to leave your side. What were you training him for?”

She heaved a frustrated sigh and snarled at the ground. “I was preparing him to face a world that is violent and dangerous.”

“I don’t think so. I think you were training him to be reliant upon you. A perpetual student,” he noted this and spoke it for the first time ever. He had thought these things over the ages but he never gave them voice. Now seemed as good a time as any, with the source of the speculation present to receive the conjecture. “Because you lost my father, you were abandoned by Myth’s father, and you were determined to make sure that the last male you wanted in your life to not make a repeat of the process.”

“I haven’t lost you…” she started but again Lhor cut her off before she got to far.

“And you never shall, but you clearly already knew that, otherwise you would not have let me go off to be trained by the druids of the Circle. This is not about me. You never saw an inkling of abandonment in me, you knew and you know I am not that way. But when you look at Mythlleass…”

He paused and followed her gaze into the worn ground.

“I think you see what you want him to be and not what he is. You don’t want him to leave your side, you want him to take the form you wish to give him, but he is not clay to be molded. You shaped us both mother, you made us who we are, but there comes a point when you have to let go.”

She stayed quite, jaw clenched, as he looked back to her to seek some opening to try and get through her resolution.

“As I see it you are holding on to him because you have nothing left. You have not known another male, or female, since Myth was born. I have my life and you blessed me with my freedom to find my own way. I think you feel that if you let go of Mythlleass you shall have nothing left, and then…”

“What shall be left for me?” she finished his statement and gave him pause.

She looked at him and kept his gaze captivated with her own steely, narrowed stare.

“So what shall be left for me, Cenarion Druid Bloodleaf? Do you have an answer to that question?”

He blanched and she pressed the attack.

“No? No wisdom from the Circle? No nuggets of sage advice from on high? Tell me what I should do with my life after devoting the last four hundred years to rearing my children? What do you suggest for me oh wise one?”

Lhor sighed and took a sip from his water and weathered her burning gaze.

“That isn’t for me to tell you, mother,” he replied gently, his staunch tone replaced by one of basic understanding and succor to the power of her resolve. “Your path is your own to walk, and by your demeanor I can see that suggesting actions would just be met with more of the same kind of animosity. What is clear to me is that you do not seem to think of Mythlleass when considering such things. He also has his path to walk… and you are not allowing him to do so. You have become so wrapped up in him that you have forgotten about what is best for him.”

“What is best,” she growled. “Is for him to forget this foolish obsession with adventure and come home to Feralas. He will get killed out there. He doesn’t know what the world is really like!”

Lhor weathered the outburst and nodded gently.

“No, he really doesn’t, but that is not important. He must learn for himself, as you did, as I have, and you must be willing to let him do so. If you try and protect him from life he will only become resentful and will be less prepared for the reality of taking responsibility for his own actions. If you try and be his shield maiden all of his life he will certainly die the first time he has to brave the darkness alone. More importantly, if you rattle the chains you have wrapped him in he will balk and rend those chains and run headlong over the cliff into oblivion.”

That gave her pause and doused the fires of her anger to some degree.

“Mother, you do not see it, but your dominion over him is still clearly seen, even here in this far off city and even now. Master Skybright mentions it to me often. Myth is holding himself back because he still hears some of your voice in his ears. He will not leap forward into his chosen path because he has a need to fill the gap you left in his life and he doesn’t know how to do such a thing. He cannot leave you behind and find his own path because, for so long, the only path he could walk was the one you lay out before him. He has run away from home but your shadow follows him like a nightmare.”

She darkened further as she considered these words but she said nothing.

“Mother, you and I both know that darkness looms on the horizon for our world. The Burning Legion has returned to Azeroth and we of the Circle can tell you with no uncertainty that darker forces are building their powers even now. Myth and I have been born into a world that could easily be as dynamic and deadly as the War of the Ancients. If you try and protect him, if you do not allow him to find the resolve to defend himself, to find strength in no other than himself, he will not survive.”

Lhor then lowered his head and let his thoughts glide to darker places.

“Worse, he may become a pawn of those dark powers. Too many elves have been lost to dark forces within the past fifty years… Myth’s half-sister Sharina included. There are demon hunters cropping up with frightening commonality, or at least they bear the aspect of that hopelessly lost group. I know of two that became corrupted with the fel by design of others.”

He returned his gaze to his mother and found her peering back with horror and surprise flashing in her eyes.

“Yes, they were made to be hosts of demon seeds. They never chose the path of the Illidari, they were drug into the fiery depths and burned with fel fire, changed into monsters that can only exist to lead this world into damnation. Horrible fates, as they strive to deny what they are, which shall make their inevitable fall all the more pitiable.”

He sighed again and looked out to Darnassus, sprawling before them like a masterpiece of Kaldorei order against the somber night sky.

“There are too many such beings that match those lost spirits. Ourrin is one of them. We have death knights and demon hunters and those that have been possessed by demons. We have creatures that seek to restore the Old Ones to power. We have the Betrayer himself restored and leading beings that make our lost immortality seem as amusing as a human lifespan is to us. We are standing at the horizon of dark times and the best any of us can hope for, at this point, is to enjoy what pleasures Azeroth still offers before darkness sweeps over us and bale fires fall from the heavens.”

They both looked up into the clear black sea above them, watched the twinkle of distant stars and breathed deeply of the natural scents afforded them by the design of the elven city.

“You and I shall fight that battle, I have no doubt, and perhaps we shall live. Perhaps we shall not. Regardless we shall do what needs to be done…”

As one they turned to peer at the other. Somber and dark thoughts exchanged silently as he nodded to her and she tipped her head in quiet reply.

“I ask you to allow Myth to find what joy he may before he has to make that sacrifice as well. We have lived longer. We have walked our path.”

With that Lhor set down his tin of water and slid himself closer to his mother, taking the hands she used to hold her cup inside of his own.

“Let Myth walk his.”

She looked down at the hands of her eldest son cupping hers, looked into the waters that swirled in the tin within her hands and how the lights from the stars danced in the softly disrupted surface, and then back to his golden eyes. Eyes that were blessed, as others had been in times long past, and were sage beyond their youthful years. She sighed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t want it to end,” she admitted finally.

Lhor understood the unspoken gravity of the statement. She knew all too well that letting go of Myth would spell the end of that stage of her life. She was no longer a Sentinel, despite her good standing with the Army, and she was very much a soldier lost in time. Her ways were no longer the ways of all her kind, the Kaldorei were no longer alone in the world as humans became more and more the drivers of destiny. She did not feel a belonging to anyone anymore, with the sole exception being her role as mother, and the thought of letting that slip away was as frightening a concept as facing the entire Burning Legion or standing against the magnitude of an Old One. Sadly, an answer to this wasn’t forthcoming, as he hardly could speak with certainty about such things. He had not lived long enough himself to really conceive how such things felt.

“Neither did I,” came a voice that was low, masculine, and melodic. Mother and son both looked around for a moment as neither had heard the approach of another, though Lhor knew the voice and how softly could fall the steps of the elder druid known as Jartsam Skybright.

He was not far from them, leaning against the tree that supported one side of the lean to, almost invisible in the shadows until someone looked for him. The presence immediately put Milyurae on edge and on the defensive while it made Lhor chuckle and relax.

“When Iyora, that’s my daughter,” Jartsam continued as he smiled and mused softly, almost as if he had been a part of the conversation all along. “When she told me she was leaving the temple to join the Sentinels I felt the bitter pang of realization. She was still mine as long as she was a priestess, I was still her father and she was still my little girl.”

He said the last words with a smile that beamed with his pride and his love of his only child.

“She was close and she was in little danger as long as she remained in temple. But,” he continued with a smile and a soft shrug of his broad shoulders. “She knew she could not help our people, our world, if she did not face her enemies and learn how to stand alongside her Sisters and fight for what she believes in.”

Milyurae just stared at the male, cool warning in her eyes, but Jartsam did not engage the glare though he did look to the female whom his brother had wronged and smiled to her.

“I did not want to let her go,” he admitted with a gentle candor. “I would have given anything to have been able to change her mind, but every child has to become an adult one day, and that was her time and her choice, and so a Sentinel she became.”

Jartsam took a few steps forward, out of the deeper shadows, and hunkered down closer to the pair. His whole demeanor one of openness and camaraderie. Milyurae watched his carefully, eyes narrowed, but did not shift to move away from him.

“Iyora is a Lieutenant now,” he crowed as his grin practically lit up the darkness. “She has seen action in the Broken Isles, she has faced Naga and demons and Goddess knows what else, and I am relieved that she has not yet given her light to the ages, but that she faces these threats in company of such noble Kaldorei does my heart good.”

“Myth isn’t becoming a Sentinel,” Milyurae said flatly, still not wooed by the males friendly nature. “He hasn’t joined such a noble company.”

Jartsam’s brow canted upward and he grinned.

“No? Well, perhaps that shall change in due time. He is here in Darnassus. He has Iyora as a regular example. He is surrounded by some of the most dedicated and moral of examples I have ever known, right at his fingertips. If he hasn’t chosen a path as of yet perhaps that is just a matter of patience? I know the Sentinels have been taking males for some time, and I hear tell that with current situations being as they are Tyrande and Shandris are considering opening recruitment to both sexes as a matter of commonality.”

He chuckled, a deep and infectious sound that did not visually affect Milyurae but she had to admit to herself she was starting to warm up to the male. His charm was different from that of his brother, Ourrin, in that it was not laced throughout with a somewhat clear agenda to get her naked.

“I even hear tell that my niece, Huntress Shiri Nyghtwhisper, may be recruiting soon,” he said with a wink at her. “I do think you would like Huntress Nyghtwhisper. She wouldn’t be your eyes on Myth but you could rest assured that he would be in capable hands.”

Milyurea paused for a moment and postulated on that. She knew Huntress Nyghtwhisper, at least since she had been assigned to serve under General Feathermoon.

“Huntress Nyghtwhisper lost over half her company in the Broken Isles,” she stated flatly but with a gentle perk of her own purple brow. Curious as to how the charming elder male would try and confront that retort.

Lhor, whom had fallen silent and was enjoying the display of elder wisdom, simply followed suit and arched his own brow, as he too was curious as to how his master would approach that unquestionable fact.

Jartsam’s smile didn’t fade but his expression did soften in respect to the dead.

“No, she did not lose anyone. Over half her company lost their lives, but she brought back every last one of her soldiers for proper burial services. She left no member of her company behind. I heard from her second that she went into combat three times, with only her honor guard of two, to make certain that the demons they faced would not desecrate the bodies of the fallen. I would entrust her with the life of my own daughter, for Shiri has the courage of the Goddess and the skill of a Sentinel. Very very capable hands.”

The former Sentinel nodded softly. She also had heard of the terrible loss taken by that Moonclaw company. She had been present when officers she was friends with spoke of the courage it took for a company of 150 to stand and face down a horde of demonic destruction 5000 strong. It was a vital position that the Sentinels had to keep lest the rest of the force in Suramar were to be outflanked and overrun. It had to be Sentinels as well, as no others could be entrusted to make a stand to the bitter end and make certain that if the last of the company fell they would make the action so costly to the enemy that victory to the Legion would be hollow indeed. They held the pass though their losses were staggering, and for her unflinching devotion to her duty and unquestionable bravery in action Shiri had been awarded a commendation for valor.

“I know of Huntress Nyghtwhisper,” she replied evenly, her voice losing the defensive ring it had been carrying. “She is a model Sentinel and, you are correct, I do like her, but I do not think Myth desires a place in the Sentinels.”

Jartsam smiled and tipped his head to give her a wry smirk while he stroked his long white mustache.

“Have you ever asked?”

She was about to answer when the stark reality struck her like an orcs mace. For a few moments her eyes searched the air, her brows knit in annoyance, and her face pointing here and there as she frantically searched her thoughts.

“I… no… I don’t think I ever have.”

Lhor would have applauded his master but he knew that would be wholly disrespectful and only undo everything the elder had accomplished.

“Well then…”

Jartsam left it at that and stood up, stretching his longer than typical arms up and over his head. A few pops could be faintly heard as the male flexed his powerful limbs and shifted myriad muscles around on his back and neck.

“I have to be off,” he stated gently as he looked to Lhor. “I have to meet with Nessa Shadowsong down in Rut’theran about her crab companion. It would seem her strand crab has a bacterial infection from eating one too many clams from the tidal basins around Rut’theran.”

He shrugged, strode over without another word to dip the ladle into the water basin, take a long drink, and then lower it back before striding off without another word. Just a merry tune whistled as he moved off toward his next animal endeavor. Mother and son watched him go.

“I cannot understand how he manages to sneak up on me like that,” Lhor said softly as he marveled after the master druid that was teaching him the trade of animal keeping.

“Eleven-thousand years of practice,” Milyurae answered gently and even she was smiling a bit at the retreating figure. “Nothing like his brother, that’s for sure.”

Lhor looked to his mother and searched her face for a moment, her eyes still lingering on where Jartsam had been, before she returned his gaze. They sat in silence for a long moment just peering upon the other. Mother and child.

“Why don’t you ask to be reinstated?” Lhor finally asked to break the silence of their thoughts.

The violet haired elf shook her head softly.

“No... not yet. I am not ready for that again. Not just yet anyway.”

They both nodded, mostly to themselves, and a silence fell across them again for a long moment. Milyurae broke it with a sigh and words spoken gently.

“I still do not want to let him go Lhor.”

Her son nodded and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder as she continued.

“I appreciate what Jartsam said but… it’s not so easy for me.”

“I know, mother.”

There was little more for him to say. His mother had come to a crossroads in her life and he could do no more to try and point her down the path of least pain and resistance. She would look at the choices and take the path she felt was best for her. Come what may the decision was hers to make and she would go where her destiny lay. Lhor could only hope that her path did not lead further to a place where she pressed her will down like a weight upon his brother.

He was free to grow as the mighty oak, spread his branches out into the sky and offer others his shade and his protection.

She was free to roar from her den and rend flesh and crunch bone between her teeth, the nightsaber matriarch that would not leave her territory and would guard it fiercely.

His brother would also be free. He was the fledgling hawk with wings that were only just strong enough to take flight. He had soared the sky above Lhor’s leaves but not so far from the den of the nightsaber where he was reared. Yet those wings were now ready to carry him to the far reaches of destiny and nothing would hold him back.

Milyurae sat there and pondered similar thoughts as she rose and gave her eldest a motherly squeeze of his shoulder before moving off. They had no more to speak of and too much indeed to consider.

As he had watched Jartsam depart he watched her, for a few moments at any rate, and then he sighed and returned to his work. Whatever happened now was out of his control and he had duties to attend to.

#world of warcraft fanfic #World of Warcraft #fanfic #night elves #family drama #kaldorei #kaldoreiyarns #darnassus #WoW

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