#jaina island

[fullslack]

Ritual Mask, Teotihuacan (c. 450-650 CE)

Standing Dignitary, Jaina (c. 550-950 CE)

#maya #mayan #teotihuacan #jaina island #archaeology #ceramic #stone #mask #Stone mask #art #History #ancient artifacts

[captainherasyndulla]

Tatis Jr is back and there’s playoff hockey happy 4/20

#the islanders aren’t playing tonight and I’m kind of thankful #I need some joy #jaina talks

[redisaid]

Learning by Doing

Uh, hi there. You guys voted for me to do bonus smut months ago and I forgot about it. Then I remembered and now we're here. Bon appetite. Have some very late pre-Third War elf love hotel sex magic fluff smut.

4709 Words

Read it on Ao3!

“This is a sex hotel,” Jaina observed, her hand still lingering on the ornate doorknob of the bedchamber of what was to be their private villa for the week.

“It’s a sex resort,” Sylvanas corrected, the buckles of their bags still slung over her shoulder jingling as she stepped behind Jaina to be greeted by the same view she was taking in. “There’s a hot spring, massage parlor, restaurant. You know, all of those sort of things.”

The view in question was of a massive bed, bigger than any Jaina had seen before, which dominated the otherwise warm and tidy room on the second floor of their own little spire. Unlike the sitting room across the way, which was completely lined with these, this room had only one large window facing a sea view, conveniently far from the bed. There was a doorway opposite it, no doubt leading to a bathroom. None of these things, however, gave away the purpose of the room.

No, that would be the arched alcove above the bed, inset with glass shelves, underlit by tiny magelights. From left to right, an assortment of bedroom accessories unlike Jaina had ever seen were on display, from more aggressively obvious ones such as a selection of dildos and restraints and paddles, to things she had to guess at the purpose of, like that rack of colorful potions in intricate little glass bottles.

And while Jaina would say that she didn’t necessarily dislike surprises, she was quite certain that this was not the destination she’d have guessed, or had any way of guessing, when her girlfriend had posed the idea of taking her on a surprise vacation. In fact, she had assumed and planned for much the opposite.

“You ass,” she said to the girlfriend in question, turning to find the Ranger General of Quel’thalas herself grinning and holding one hand up in some sort of apology.

“If you don’t want to be in a sex resort, then we can go,” Sylvanas offered. “Or we can just enjoy the spa activities and take this time to relax.”

“I packed for the outdoors. Hiking, hunting, fishing,” Jaina explained her offense. “Things one assumes their ranger paramour will take them to when they’re thinking of surprise vacation destinations.”

“You had talked about wanting to spend more quality time together,” Sylvanas retorted, her free hand still in the air, but shoulders shrugging regardless. The buckles on their bags jingled again. “And since you did so while you were about to pass out on my chest last time we--”

“I meant in general. And yes I talked about it in bed, and yes I enjoyed myself very much that night, but this was just not what I expected. I packed trousers and a sturdy jacket, not robes and negligees,” Jaina went on.

“Luckily, for this type of vacation, you don’t really need clothes,” Sylvanas noted, grin widening to the point of growing lopsided, the white of her fangs on full display.

How could Jaina stay annoyed at a face like that? The stern mask of the Ranger General had been gone before they’d even landed on the beach of this island resort, replaced by the goofy grins and cocky smirks of the woman few knew Sylvanas Windrunner to be. But Jaina got to see her, in bits and pieces like this, and regardless of the venue, would have enjoyed having a week of her to herself. She had to admit that doing so in a luxurious beachside private villa sounded much more pleasant than doing so in the mud of the forest floor.

“I can hear the gears grinding in your head,” Sylvanas noted. “So, out with those thoughts. Are we staying?”

Jaina leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Put the bags down, you unbelievable ass.”

A quick tour of the room told Jaina several things. One was that the large bed was both soft and firm at the same time, and the coverings that adorned it were a fine, soft linen. The connected bathroom was bigger than she expected, with a large soaking tub that faced a window overlooking the sea that would definitely see use later. It housed a collection of towels unlike any Jaina had seen before, but one she already found herself being grateful for. And as one might expect from a resort in the north sea, so near the Isle of Quel’danas itself, the entire place was buzzing with magic, absolutely alight with arcane energy. From the magelights that gave the rooms a soft and inviting glow, and could be brightened or dimmed with a mere word, to that rack of potions that still captivated Jaina, some aglow with that very magical energy.

Even her elven girlfriend seemed extra charged with arcane here, as Jaina exited the bathroom to find her sinking into the bed, eyes closed and limbs akimbo, seemingly testing the comfort of it.

Jaina took that opportunity to kick off her much too outdoorsy boots and climb atop her to explain herself. “I’m not mad,” she noted with a brief kiss on the bridge of Sylvanas’ nose. “Just surprised.”

“That’s the point of it being a surprise,” Sylvanas laughed beneath her, opening her glowing grey eyes to reveal that yes, the blue arcane sheen of them was a somewhat brighter shade here, somehow. “But I take it from the fact that you’re on top of me that it isn’t a bad one?”

“No. I think I can make the best of it,” Jaina told her with another kiss, this time aimed at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for booking it.”

“You’re most welcome,” Sylvanas said with another laugh. “And if you’d like to take a moment before we start the festivities, there’s snacks and champagne in the kitchen.”

“We’re in a sex resort, Sylvanas,” Jaina noted, this time kissing the other corner of that devious little mouth, which had curled upward into a smirk. “You didn’t bring me here to eat snacks.”

“I suppose I didn’t,” Sylvanas answered, pulling her into a proper kiss.

Teasing the sharp tip of fang with her tongue, Jaina wondered at how they’d ended up here, or together at all. A chance meeting in Dalaran had seen her befriending Sylvanas not long ago, introduced to her in a hurry at a restaurant by her younger sister and Jaina’s friend Vereesa. The defender of the high home of the elves herself then was suddenly full of excuses to come back to Dalaran after that, excuses that eventually led her to the bedchamber of the Kirin Tor’s newest agent not long after that. And now to celebrate the first year of their relationship, they were sinking into the bed of what was apparently a sex resort.

And Jaina didn’t mind it at all. This, she decided firmly, was much better than camping in the woods.

“What do the potions do?” was Jaina’s immediate question upon breaking that lingering kiss.

Sylvanas laughed beneath her, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold Jaina in place through her laughter. “I saw you eyeing them. That’s the first place you want to go?”

“I can sense the magic in them,” Jaina told her. “And frankly have never encountered magic geared toward sex before. Call it an academic interest.”

“Always academic with you,” Sylvanas teased, plainly ignoring the request to fiddle with the buttons of Jaina’s sensible cotton button up she’d worn expecting a day filled with a different kind of physical activity.

The labels on the bottles were no help. Though Jaina could read the Thalassian script with ease, the names on them meant nothing to her. Serpent’s Kiss? Leviathan’s Hunger? Cloud Nine? Even in a place as nice as this, the names might as well have been the same as some cheap love potion sold on the docks in Boralus to lonely and ignorant sailors. Jaina could only hope these weren’t just tinctures of low quality rum and lavender, not that she had any idea what was in those dockside love potions, not at all.

“You’re avoiding my question. And here I got the impression that you once frequented this place. At least you seemed to be very familiar with the way to this villa of ours,” Jaina noted.

“I’m just good with directions,” Sylvanas misdirected, freeing the first and second buttons from their hold on Jaina’s blouse.

“The receptionist said, ‘Welcome back General Windrunner’,” Jaina pointed out, taking her gaze from the potions to grab Sylvanas’ hand and stop her quest to rid her of that sensible cotton shirt.

“I may have frequented this place with other guests in different times,” Sylvanas acquiesced. “But I especially thought you might enjoy it, and must confess I’ve wanted to take you here for some time now.”

“So what do the potions do?” Jaina pressed, and slid Sylvanas’ hand into her partially open shirt in appreciation for that honesty.

“There are a lot of them,” Sylvanas noted, the warmth of her fingers tracing upon Jaina’s clavicle as she leaned back to look up at the rack of glowing colors. “Where to start?”

“Surely you have a favorite?” Jaina asked.

The wicked smile that lit up Sylvanas’ face told her she did. “I didn’t think we’d talk about the potions right away. I was planning on saving that for a little later in the trip, but you did ask.”

“In the interest of furthering my arcane studies, I think that I must insist, Ranger General,” Jaina demanded, propping herself up into a sitting position to cross her arms while still straddling the elf beneath her.

“Then let us not leave you uneducated any longer, my lovely Kirin Tor Agent,” Sylvanas said as she sat up with Jaina, balancing her in her lap, but also turning to pluck a potion off the rack in a flair of dexterous grace.

Sometimes, it was worth it to have a lover who was a devious little ranger at heart.

Said potion was Serpent’s Kiss itself, a glowing teal mixture in a vial shaped like a snake curled around a tree branch. A display of glass artistry that was worthy of something far more grand than a sex potion, but Jaina had to remind herself that this was Quel’thalas she was in. Everything was beautifully crafted and ornate, and if anyone would make pretty vials for their magic sex potions, it would be the elves.

Jaina decided then that she rather liked dating an elf. Well, she’d decided that many times before in this relationship--once for the access to new artisanal cheeses alone that came along with her visits to Quel’thalas--but decided again.

Sylvanas swirled the vial for her, still grinning like a cat that caught the canary as the contents glowed brighter for her efforts, and whirled in a storm of arcane sparkle.

“Let me preface this by saying that we do not have to make use of this, though I think you’ll enjoy it too. I shall tell you that for one, I drink it, and the effects last for four hours, or until I drink another potion that will reverse any of these, that clear one over there by the towels. As for the effect itself, that is best left to be learned by observation, if you’d like,” she offered.

“Then drink it,” Jaina challenged, finding an eager grin making its way to her own face. “And let me not linger waiting on another surprise.”

“Clothes off first,” Sylvanas said, and reached for those buttons again with the hand not holding the vial.

The bottle of glowing blue-green liquid was nearly lost three times in the process of their undressing. Jaina caught it the first time it slipped from Sylvanas’ hands as she pulled her sleeveless shirt over her head. Sylvanas took it from Jaina the second time and nearly dropped it in helping her shimmy out of her leggings. Her solution to this was to hold it in her mouth, but her fangs proved unwieldy to the point where she had to catch it again in the process of removing Jaina’s bra.

All in all, Jaina was almost laughing too much to be as turned on as she was by the time they were naked.

It was always like this with Sylvanas. The other lovers of her youth had been so serious in the bedroom. Sylvanas rarely was. She was serious everywhere else, a stern and hard woman who was difficult to please in the training grounds and apparently impossible to defeat on the battlefield. But in the bedroom, alone with Jaina, she laughed. She grinned. She smirked and whispered wicked things and terrible jokes in the same breath to the point where Jaina didn’t know whether to sigh in pleasure or in disgust at her lover’s abysmal sense of humor.

But she sighed all the same, and loved her more for it.

Sylvanas gave the vial one more shake, exciting another surge of arcane glow from it before she popped the cork and downed the contents. “Again, there’s no pressure to do anything you don’t want to,” she stated as she took a deep breath after swallowing. “But I think you’ll have fun with this.”

This didn’t seem to be anything. Jaina wasn’t really sure why she had to watch a demonstration of this potion, though she hardly complained about looking at her lover’s body. Sylvanas with lithe and fit, with an archer’s broad shoulders, and muscles that formed a V shape from her abdomen pointing downward to…something new. A glowing teal appendage that was most certainly not there a moment ago, erect and ready.

“You have a dick,” Jaina noted most astutely.

“Excellent observation,” Sylvanas said with another laugh.

“Then what are all the dildos for?” Jaina asked, puzzling for herself as she scooted toward Sylvanas.

“Their own kind of fun,” Sylvanas answered. “Different from this.”

“Different how?” Jaina asked.

An answer came to mind in the set of Sylvanas’ lips and the way her tongue ran across them. An answer, like many, that was best found in observation. The construct between Sylvanas’ legs was warm to Jaina’s touch, as she wrapped an exploratory hand around it, and found that it had a pleasant texture in addition to the temperature. Not exactly like skin, but still soft, and hard where it needed to be. Buzzing with arcane in a way that was pleasant to her magically inclined senses, almost as if alight with a faint electric hum.

And the fact that Sylvanas let out a little grunt as she circled her thumb around the head of it told her what she needed to know. “You can feel it?” Jaina asked anyway.

“I can feel that that feels very nice,” Sylvanas told her.

A thousand questions sprang to mind. How did this work? What combinations of enchantments did that potion contain? How were they balanced so perfectly? And who in all of Azeroth had the time to figure that out?

Whoever it was, Jaina was most grateful for their work. Another stroke wrung a low moan from Sylvanas’ throat, and she decided that she was extremely grateful.

But she had one question lingering on her mind, far more pressing than the others. “Can you come with this?” Jaina asked.

“If you keep doing that, I just might,” Sylvanas warned, gently reaching for Jaina’s hand to still it where it gripped the arcane cock. “And to prevent you from asking the question I know will follow this one, yes, there is a result of sorts from that. I’m told it’s quite pleasant for a magic user, as it is arcane in nature. For that reason too, it leaves little in the way of mess to clean up. Very convenient.”

“One more question, I promise,” Jaina ventured, letting go to bring Sylvanas’ face to hers and draw her in for a kiss. “Me on top, or you?” she asked against her lips.

Sylvanas’ answer came in the form of further observation, and she sank into that offered kiss, and used it to distract Jaina from the tight hold she took of her waist, flipping her down onto the mattress in the process.

While the circumstances and venues in which that had happened before were different, Jaina enjoyed them all, but perhaps was most excited for this one. She was just as happy to be on top, of course, but being underneath Sylvanas was always a good time. Even better now if she could enjoy it at the same time.

They’d used their share of toys in the past, and those were fun. Not as fun as this, or the sigh Sylvanas let out as the construct rubbed against Jaina’s thigh.

She kept one arm around Jaina, holding her close, and braced herself up on her elbow. And for a moment, she just looked at her, smiling.

“What?” Jaina asked.

“I think this is going to be a wonderful vacation, that’s all,” Sylvanas told her before kissing her again.

And despite the stiff insistence poking at Jaina’s leg, she kept kissing her. Along her neck and jaw, dragging the points of her fangs over the rounded shell of Jaina’s ear. Peppering her collar bones with little red marks.

Jaina, for her part, was more than ready to experiment with this new magic and learn by doing, but she allowed this teasing. She encouraged it, actually, running her nails across the broad plane of Sylvanas’ upper back, kissing along her long, pointed ears. She enjoyed the softness of her too, not just her hard elven angles, but the plush skin of her thighs, her breasts, the tender spot just below her jaw that always made her hiss when Jaina sucked on it a little.

There was a reason she put up with this haughty, off elf of hers after all. Not only did Jaina love her, but she loved loving her. She was, in fact, very glad to be in a place dedicated to that act, and with a week to continue exploring exactly what all these potions did.

Though this one, she thought, would probably be a favorite of hers as well.

Jaina knew for certain it would when she reached down between them and ran a hand over the stiff length again, feeling Sylvanas go tense at her touch.

“Inside,” was Jaina’s breathless command, and one that she guided Sylvanas to follow.

The sensation was both familiar and strange. The sense of fullness and warmth and the familiar aching stretch were there, of course. But with them was a jolt of arcane energy that at first made Jaina want to jump, but then settled into a pleasant hum that flowed through her body. She felt like a harp string plucked, made to play a pretty note, only hers came out as a shuddering breath.

Sylvanas too, seemed lost in the sensation, entering her slowly and fully, then stilling for a moment. She gave one tentative roll of her hips, then another, before letting out a moan that transformed into a sentence, “Gods Jaina. You feel amazing. I should have taken you here earlier.”

“Please tell me that we can get more of this potion to go,” Jaina mumbled as Sylvanas moved inside of her again, slow and deliberate.

“I’ll buy us a case,” she promised as she hilted herself.

Sex of this sort was good. Jaina liked any form of penetration, really, but seeing her lover so clearly enjoying her for it was something else. Even the men she’d been with before weren’t so reverent in fucking her as Sylvanas was. Each cant of her hips drew a new sound from her Jaina had never heard before. A new whispered praise. A new prayer to gods both foreign and familiar. And for her part, Jaina couldn’t get enough of it. The cock, the compliments, the building of a too quick crescendo, roiling her abdomen as Sylvanas fucked her.

She managed to open eyes that had long since screwed shut to look down between them, both amused and aroused by watching the arcane glow sink in and out of her.

“This is incredible. You’re incredible,” Jaina told Sylvanas.

Sylvanas seemed determined to keep this slow rhythm, hardly changing her pace even as she hefted Jaina up a bit with the arm beneath her, changing the angle just a bit. But gods what a welcome change it was, as each slow grind of her hips gave Jaina some extra friction against her clit now. Sylvanas seemed to realize this, and thrust deeper in, hardly pulling herself out at all, in order to keep the pressure up.

“That’s…” Jaina didn’t have to say it. They both knew. They could both feel it now. Her in the way she tightened around the construct, and in the way Sylvanas’ rhythm began to falter.

But that brought another incessant question out from Jaina’s lips, one that needed immediate answering, because she wasn’t ready for this to be over. “Does it stay hard if you come?”

“Mmm, yes. But just for asking that, I will make sure you come first,” Sylvanas warned through panting breaths.

It was a threat Jaina was fine being on the receiving end of. One she didn’t really have much hope of countering either. Her body was on a determined course, and there was little that could change it at this point. Even as Sylvanas slipped down from her elbow, her full weight resting now on Jaina, it only made it better. Her hot breath in Jaina’s ear, Jaina’s lips and teeth on her neck.

Jaina felt her body seize and clench and gods was it good. Back arched, mouth open, and Sylvanas buried as deep as she could go inside of her, she came hard. Hard enough that she was sure the hand not fisted in the sheets left a trail of angry red against Sylvanas’ back, doubly so as the elf’s hips lost their rhythm and thrust fast and wild into her.

That was soon followed by a rush of warmth that filled her, both literally and figuratively. A liquid of sorts imparted a wave of energy across Jaina, tingling her from her toes to the crown of her head. She felt as though the ends of her golden hair might spark alight with arcane. And that she might just come again for the sensation of having made Sylvanas spend herself within her, magical as it was otherwise.

“Fuck,” was all she could say to express any of that as Sylvanas went limp atop her, save for the smile that curved in the lips against Jaina’s cheek.

They caught their breath together until Jaina had recovered enough to seek Sylvanas’ lips for a kiss. “You should have brought me here earlier,” she told her as she pulled away.

“I knew you’d like it here,” Sylvanas hummed back at her, cocky even as she enjoyed the afterglow, eyes closed, head nestling atop Jaina’s chest.

But Jaina was invigorated, nerves set newly alight by that surge of arcane. And the delight of discovery, of course. Sex magic, who would have known? The elves. Of course the elves.

A tentative roll of her hips told Jaina that yes, Sylvanas was still indeed hard, still inside her, and still quite sensitive from the little moan she let out.

But Jaina wasn’t quite done with her experimenting, or with her questions. And she also very much wanted Sylvanas to come inside her again, if it felt like that every time. How was this place not crawling with eager mages? Well, maybe she didn’t see many on their way in because they were busy in their own rooms. No wonder.

It was her turn to flip them over, cautiously. And while Sylvanas did slip out in the process, Jaina sat right back down on the construct as soon as she was atop her lover, eliciting yet another almost pained groan.

“So what do the others do?” Jaina asked as she began to roll her own hips.

“Insatiable,” Sylvanas scolded, even as her hands went to Jaina’s thighs to guide the movement.

“I like this one, but I want to know all of my options,” Jaina told her.

“I meant the fact that you’re already going for round two, but you’re insatiable in both regards,” Sylvanas scolded.

“You make an adorable face when we’re doing this, do you know that?” Jaina asked.

Said adorable face was highlighted by a pair of wide grey-blue eyes, pupil dilated enough that Jaina could see it beneath the arcane overglow even. Long brows furrowed against the sensation that must have been amazing, even if Sylvanas had experienced it before. Jaina noted that she’d have to ask her later if these elixirs would work on a human, because they would definitely be trying the reverse if so. But most tempting was a fan of silvery blonde hair that spread beneath her, one that Jaina couldn’t help but tuck behind a long ear as she rode her.

“Tell me what the other potions do. Let’s see how many we can get through before you come again,” Jaina challenged.

“You’re going to be the death of me before this week is through,” Sylvanas grunted, but began to meet her thrusts with her own all the same.

“Don’t make it zero now, that’s no fun,” Jaina teased, running her hand down from Sylvanas’ face to her breast, and eliciting another gasp from her for it.

“The red and blue are temperature play. Red makes you a little hotter, blue a little colder. They’re topical, not for drinking,” Sylvanas explained.

This was addicting. The rhythm of their meeting hips, the way Sylvanas’ face betrayed her pleasure every time Jaina took her fully inside. And the way she felt in there, hard and soft and buzzing arcane. Jaina could see now why the elves would be addicted to magic. Anyone would be if it came like this.

“The cold one sounds interesting,” Jaina noted.

“It’s awful. The warm one though, I do quite enjoy,” Sylvanas told her.

Jaina wanted to make a quip about elves and their love of all things hot, but Sylvanas thrust up in a way that brushed a spot inside her that made her buck unbidden, and she lost the words she was looking for.

“Purple…makes you float,” Sylvanas informed her, though her glowing eyes had shut once again, and could hardly see the color she was identifying.

Her hands gripped Jaina’s thighs, holding on for dear life. Holding her in place too, so that she kept hitting that spot. Holding her so that Jaina could barely get out a chiding, “That’s only three, love.”

“Orange gives,” a moan, a breath, a pant, a mumbled curse. “Mirror image spell.”

Jaina had to give in then, falling atop her lover to kiss the beads of sweat forming on her brow. Gods this feeling, this closeness, this symphony of magic and pleasure. She was going to have a hard time wanting to do anything else but this for the rest of the week.

“One more,” Jaina pleaded. “One more before you come inside me again.”

“Green,” was the only word Sylvanas got out before she did, in fact, come again.

The arcane rush and frantic thrusts that followed sent Jaina to her own soaring heights again too. One intense orgasm so quickly after the other was enough to leave her dizzy and limp, draped over Sylvanas for her efforts, sated but not, awakened to a new world which required much more exploring, but perhaps in need of a few moments rest before she could continue. A few moments she intended to enjoy being held and feeling full and loved.

“Green,” Sylvanas started again, but couldn’t catch her breath to finish.

“I don’t care about green. Green can wait,” Jaina mumbled into Sylvanas’ hair. “I love you and I love this. I want to do this until I’m too sore.”

“There’s a potion for that too,” Sylvanas informed her.

“I think I love it here,” Jaina observed, though it was up to her girlfriend to determine if that comment was about the sex resort, or riding out their arcane-tinged afterglow in her arms.

It was both, truthfully.

#sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #sylvaina #fanfic #smut #when you bring your nerd girlfriend to a sex resort and she gets off on trying to figure out the sex magic #much of this can be blamed on one person who knows who they are #yeah you

[margindoodles2407]

heyyy margin I was wondering

for the sw high fantasy au, how are you planning to make the story go down? Will it be pretty similar to the movies, or will you be making any changes? Also, are you gonna be doing anything with all the crazy creatures found on every planet connect? Like, some of them are dragons and so on? Or there being different families all the creatures fit into? and finally, are you gonna include any ships that aren’t canon?

Ok that’s it XD

HI EVIE THANKS FOR CHECKING IN ON ME!!!

Okay SO. Let me answer these one at a time :D

(this is over a thousand words so it's going to be below the cut)

In terms of story, everything from the Prequels through the Original Trilogy is going to be pretty much the same. What I can tell you is that although I haven’t actually put that much thought into the Sequels yet, they are going to be markedly different from the current Disney canon in that they will combine elements from both the Disney canon and Legends, including Mara Jade and the other Organa-Solo kids (Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin as well as Ben) because they live rent-free in my mind. 

However, a few things in the Prequels especially are going to be markedly different because the way they are executed in canon doesn’t fit into a High Fantasy world, and I’ll put these as bulletpoints:

Kamino is going to be introduced very differently. While Dooku destroying all evidence of its existence works in canon, because it’s in the outer rim and canon Star Wars is a digital, data-based world, in a fantasy setting it would be extremely difficult to cover up all the evidence of an entire island- especially in regards to its references (or lack thereof) in the Jedi Archives, because these would obviously now be a paper-and-pen, books and scrolls and tapestries library, instead of a digital archive where data can just be erased. (Though, the mental image of Dooku checking out all the books on Kamino and then burning them is very funny to me. Especially if Jocasta Nu walked in on him. “Master Dooku… what are you doing?” “Oh, nothing, dear Jocasta.” *book makes a FWOOSH sound as it goes up in flames*) Instead, in the AU Kamino is an Atlantis-esque legend to the people of the Galactic Archipelago: in the days of the Old Republic, it was sunk in divine retribution for the unnatural genetic alchemy practiced by the Kaminoans. After leaving the Jedi, Dooku discovers that Kamino is, in fact, real, and that the Kaminoans preserved their ancient fortress undersea by way of a magic barrier. When Obi-Wan learns about the Kaminoan dart from Dex, his problem in looking for Kamino is now that no one takes him seriously because at every turn, it’s dismissed as just a children’s tale.

This isn’t necessarily a story thing, but the map is slightly different; the most obvious example of this is the changing of Mustafar’s location, because it and Coruscant are part of the same chain of volcanic islands- Coruscant just happens to be dormant. In fact, Coruscant’s underworld is built into the caldera of the volcano, because it hasn’t erupted since the early days of the Old Republic and is widely thought to be extinct.

C-3PO has his own new lore now. He’s the ghost of a knight- Sir Anthony Threepio, so I can keep it phonetically similar (C-3PO = Sir Threepio) and also give a little reference to Anthony Daniels- who died in a surprise pirate ambush on Tatooine centuries ago, and the stress he retains from the events surrounding his death has made him neurotically obsessed with being prepared for absolutely every possible situation. In life, he was also incredibly intelligent, and spoke almost every language in the Galactic Archipelago. When Anakin is a little boy, he meets and befriends Threepio’s ghost, and, being the kind soul he is, offers to build him a suit of armor so Threepio can be in the world again. In gratitude, Threepio swears a knightly oath to serve Anakin’s family for as long as he is able.

R2-D2 (and, actually, all astromechs) ALSO has his own lore. Astromech Gnomes are a race that lives far below the surface of the Galactic Archipelago, and have for so long that sunlight is actually toxic to them. They are gifted with a masterful knowledge of machinery- an art lost to the rest of the Archipelago- and can build and/or fix almost anything, including ships. In addition, because they live in near-total darkness, they have an excellent internal compass, so they often work as navigators. However, because they can only ply their trades on the surface, and sunlight will kill them, they use their mechanical genius to build themselves small dome-like suits from which they can safely practice their craft without endangering themselves. In addition, they can understand but cannot speak basic, due to the fact that they have avian-like mouth structures and can only speak in whistles and chirps. 

On a similar note, let’s talk about Battle Droids. I’ll try to breeze through this pretty quickly. Regular Battle Droids are necromanced skeletons (General Grievous is an ancient, undead Lich Warlord and necromances all of them), Super Battle Droids are centaur-esque automatons (in the classic sense, like in Greek and Roman mythology), and Droidekas I… haven’t actually figured out yet (if you have any ideas let me know!). 

Creatures! Well, obviously I just talked about Astromechs and Battle Droids. But yes, I have thought about this! I have a few ideas which I actually came up with while I was designing Padme’s area outfit from Attack of the Clones, and then obviously I’ve been thinking about the alien races that are too bizarre to just put into my system of “There Are Many And Diverse Human Cultures In The Galactic Archipelago”. And anyway, this is a fantasy world, we need fantasy creatures. I’ll put these in bulletpoints, too. In regards to all of these, I’m trying to keep their in-canon appearances as much as possible while just amping up the fantasy vibe, so- for example- Admiral Ackbar will still look like Admiral Ackbar, but with lobster legs. And such.

Nexu are manticore-esque

Acklays are something like a Cockatrice

The Rhino Thing whose name I can never remember? The thing Anakin fights? That’s a Tarasque now.

The Aquatic races are all types of merfolk: Nautolans are your classic mermaids, and still have their head tentacles (for reference, I’ll upload a picture of Heroforge!Kit Fisto at the end of this list); Mon Calamari are crustacean-legged; Quarren are squid-people; and the other fish-people (like the one who steals Ahsoka’s lightsabers in that one episode) are. Well. They’re fish mermaids. 

Heroforge!Kit Fisto:

Thisspiasians are like Nagas, but with four arms. 

Besalisks are centaurs. But with four arms. (There’s a lot of four-armed creatures in star wars.)

Yoda is a delightful little imp-creature. 

Kaminoans are. Well. Kaminoans. I think they’re weird enough to just leave alone.

Geonosians are malicious insect-like pixies (in the classic sense)

Darth Maul specifically is a Drider- a spider-legs person. The Clone Wars writers were cowards (affectionate), but I am not, so he keeps the spider legs.

If you have any more ideas for creatures to fantasy-ify, I’d LOVE to hear them!

Ships. Both in the boat sense and the romance sense. But I suspect you’re talking about the romance sense here :) So here’s the thing, most of my Star Wars ships are. Already canon. (A few I think might just be widely-accepted fanon, but that could just be because I’m not quite done with TCW and I haven’t started TBB yet, so that remains to be seen). HOWEVER. There is, in fact, Mara Jade, and as she is no longer Disney canon, I think it’s safe to say that she and Luke are no longer canon, so yes, there will be at least ONE non-canonical ship in this AU- that being the aforementioned Luke and Mara Jade. There might be others, which I will get back to you on upon completion of TCW and TBB. (Oh, and there’s also pre-Sith Dooku and Jocasta Nu, because old people in love is near and dear to my heart, and I don’t know if this counts as non-canon or not, but that will be at least briefly touched upon.)

I hope you found this enjoyable and enlightening. And also, you know me, if you have any follow-ups, I will be DELIGHTED to scream about those with you :D

#margin's high fantasy star wars au #margin rambles #you ask margin babbles #I WILL SCREAM ABOUT MY OWN AU FOR HOURS #star wars

[sixcostumerefs]

Happy Asian American and Pacific Islander Month to our queens!

In the US May is Asian-American and Pacific Islander month, so this month I'm spotlighting all the global Asian and Pacific Islander queens!

Pictured: Aragon: Nicole Kyoung-mi Lambert (Korean, pre-Broadway tour and Broadway), Jasmine Shen (Chinese/Hong Konger, Breakaway 1.0), Chloe Zuel (Mauritian, 2020 Sydney), Phoenix Jackson Mendoza (Filipino, 2021-23 Aus Tour), 이아름솔/Lee Arum-soul (Korean, South Korea), 손승연/Sonnet (Korean, South Korea) Boleyn: Andrea Macasaet (Filipino, pre-Broadway tour and Broadway), Amanda Lindgren (South Korean, West End), Danielle Mendoza (Filipino, Breakaway 3.0), Sunayna Smith (Indian, Breakaway 3.0 and 5.0), 김지우/Kim Ji-woo (Korean, South Korea), 배수정/Pae Su-jeong (Korean, South Korea) Seymour: Jasmine Forsberg (Filipino, Aragon Tour), Kristina Leopold (Chinese/Thai/Indian, Broadway), 박가람 /Park Ga-ram (Korean, South Korea), 박혜나/Park Hye-na (Korean, South Korea) Cleves: 김지선/Kim Ji-sun (Korean, South Korea), 최현선/Choi Hyun-sun (Korean, South Korea) Howard: Jaina Brock-Patel (Desi/Indian, 2nd UK Tour), Zoe Jensen (Filipino, Broadway), 김려원/Kim Ryeo-won (Korean, South Korea), 솔지/Solji (Korean, South Korea) Parr: Shimali de Silva (Hong Konger/Sri Lankan, original student cast), Vidya Makan (Desi/Indian heritage, 2020 and 2021-23 Australian Tours), Megan Leung (Chinese/Hong Konger, Bliss 2.0 and Breakaway 5.0), Joy N Woods (Southeast Asian and/or Pacific Islander, Broadway), Elena Breschi (Filipino, Breakaway 4.0), Roxanne Couch (Maori/New Zealander, West End), 홍지희/Hong Ji-hee (Korean, South Korea), 유주혜/Yoo Ju-hye (Korean, South Korea), Aoife Haakenson (Taiwanese and also lived in Jakarta and Hong Kong, UK Tour) Alts: Grace Mouat (Burmese, 1st UK Tour and West End), Cherelle Jay (West End and 2nd UK Tour), Karis Oka (2020 and 2021-23 Australian Tours), Shannen Alyce Quan (Eurasian, 2020 and 2021-23 Australian Tours), Alizé Ke'Aloha Cruz (Filipina, Bliss 3.0) Notes: All information is from this post. There may be additional info or queens missing, as it's only information I specifically have been able to verify. This list also doesn't encompass the full breadth of many queens' identities; many of them are of mixed race and ethnicity, or of several nationalities. For more information on any given queen, check that same post. Also note that Izi Maxwell (alt, 2nd UK Tour) was born in Hong Kong. However, she lists herself as British and white on her Spotlight. Additionally, Fia Houston-Hamilton (Cleves, original Breakaway 2.0) is Indian but was never officially announced. Credits below.

-------------------- Aragon: Lloyd Bishop; _jasmine_shen_; jamesmorganphoto; sixthemusicalau, unsure of origin; ymduck_pic; _young_img Boleyn: Sara Crulwich; Pamela Raith; raisaroni10; sunaynasmith; _young_img; _shannon1025_, unsure of origin Seymour: Joan Marcus; Joan Marcus; hbiiii._.iin; jjang_beautiful Cleves: hbiiii._.iin; gren_pic Howard: Pamela Raith, Joan Marcus, day_star_._, 890110kr Parr: sixthemusical, unsure of origin; sixthemusicalau, unsure of origin; meganswleung; michaelah.jpg; elenabreschi; Pamela Raith; jjang_beautiful; yoozuyoozu, unsure of origin; emilyshows Alts: anniekwithacamera; jonalderson_; daynaransleyphoto; daynaransleyphoto; alize.kealoha

#six the musical #이아름솔 #손승연 #김지우 #배수정 #박혜나 #박가람 #김지선 #최현선 #김려원 #솔지 #유주혜 #홍지희 #식스 한국 #andrea macasaet #sunayna smith #amanda lindgren #jasmine forsberg #nicole kyoung mi lambert #jaina brock patel #zoe jensen #megan leung #joy woods #aoife haakenson #karis oka #six south korea #six broadway #six uk tour #six west end #roxanne couch

[blueiskewl]

Archaeologists Find Funerary Urn Depicting Maya Corn God in Mexico

The artefact is the latest archaeological marvel unearthed during the construction of the controversial Maya Train project.

Archaeologists from the National Institute of Anthropology and History (INAH) have made a significant discovery during ongoing construction of the Maya Train project, a 966-mile intercity railway traversing Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula whose first section was inaugurated last month.

Specialists located a funerary urn depicting the Mayan god of corn in the Paakztaz style native to the Bec River area. The artefact dates to the Classic era, a pre-Hispanic period between 680CE and 770CE. At a press conference on 8 January, the INAH's general director Diego Prieto Hernández described it as “a raw clay pot that contains the mortal remains of a person”.

The vessel is thought to be half of a pair, leading archaeologists to suspect that it was originally constructed as a foundational offering. It is decorated with glyphs of the Mayan symbol “ik”, a reference to the wind and its divine characteristics, as well as a a small anthropomorphic figure constructed from pastilles, a reference to the deity “in his representation as an ear of corn in the growth stage”, according to the INAH.

The lid of the urn is adorned with an owl icon, considered a harbinger of doom and war during the Classic period. Thought to be both symbols of good luck and visual metaphors for death, owls are considered guides to the afterlife in Mayan culture. The second vessel in the pair is covered with the thorns of a ceiba tree, flora long regarded as sacred by the Mayan people.

Archaeologists have reported finding similar sculptures of the corn deity on the island of Jaina, a pre-Colombian Maya archaeological site and artificial island off the coast of the Yucatán gulf that once served as a necropolis for elites. The name “Jaina” roughly translates to “Temple in the Water”, and the island contains more than 20,000 graves, only 1,000 of which have been excavated to date.

The years-long construction of the Maya Train project has been a boon for archaeological finds in the region, yielding thousands of artefacts and immovable objects, along with the rediscovery of the city of Ichkabal, which opened to the public in August of 2023. But the infrastructure project has faced challenges, too, including its cost tripling and opposition over its impact on the region's environment and the very same archaeological treasures it is intended to make easier of access.

By Torey Akers.

#Archaeologists Find Funerary Urn Depicting Maya Corn God in Mexico #ancient graves #ancient tombs #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #maya history #maya empire #maya art

[seccndchances]

CORDOVA WOOD CAMPSITE || Open

Jaina's memories had hit her like a freight train. One moment she was just normal, no force, no destiny or fate pulling her strings. Now she was Jaina Solo. The Sword of the Jedi, the hope for a better world. The sole survivor of her siblings, the only one after all they endured. She remained under the water, screaming into the ether. She remained under until her lungs screamed for relief. She remained under for an extra beat before finally surfacing.

The force pulling her toward shore. It had woken up inside of her with all her memories. Like an old friend wrapping her in a warm blanket. It had guided her life once before, now it seemed to pull her around the island. "This whole Island has gone crazy." She grumbled her hands shaking as she worked to dry herself off. "First a murder and now--." She huffed. She didn't even know who she was trying to talk too. Well, she knew who she wanted to talk too, but knew it was fruitless to even think of her twin.

#ivycoveopen #The dark side doesn't make you any stronger | jaina speaks

[bansheeys]

Chapter 2

Jaina awoke with an aching head and a sore body, finding herself nestled in a cozy bed adorned with plush linens and soft blankets. As she continued to wake, she surveyed the room around her. It felt strange how oddly familiar the space was.  A few scattered candles dimly lit the room. The furniture was crafted from dark woods and accented by shades of purples and greens reminiscent of her homeland of Kul Tiras. The colors harmonized pleasantly. Jaina noticed the lack of windows and mused that perhaps she had awakened somewhere underground. Running fingers through her hair, Jaina discovered it was clean, as though she had recently bathed. It smelled of juniper and eucalyptus. She was dressed in a white cotton nightgown that felt too old-fashioned for her taste.  As Jaina lay in the cozy bed, she couldn't recall the events that led her here. Her memory was hazy, the last recollection being her conjuring massive water elements to attack the small island of Fray. There was a faint remembrance of Kalecgos begging her to stop and the thrilling rush upon harnessing the strength of the Focusing Iris. After that, her memories blurred, and she only remembered the urgent need to execute her plans to lay waste to Orgrimmar.

Read More

#sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #sylvaina #bansheey writes

[offense-is-the-best-defence]

The Ranger General had spent an entire week in Kul Tiras on a diplomatic mission to strengthen ties with the island nation & Jaina Proudmoore, daughter of the Lord Admiral, had been tasked with giving her a tour of the city.

Every day after Sylvanas was done with meeting with the Lord Admiral & other prominent citizens of the city, Jaina would collect her & show her a specific part of the city. First had been Proudmoore Keep followed by the docks & the Tradewinds market, each day Jaina showed the elf a different part of the city, she even took her to meet the tidesages which Sylvanas later learned was a rare privilege.

The day before Sylvanas was due to leave, Jaina picked her up as she usually did but instead of some landmark she found herself in a tavern.

‘I couldn’t let you leave without a drink, General.’ said Jaina. ‘What’ll you have?’

‘Not the ale.’ said Sylvanas firmly, the awful drink had been served during the meeting & she had felt a powerful urge to shoot whoever had invented the swill. ‘Do you have wine?’

‘Of course.’

A bottle of Kul Tiran red was produced which Sylvanas sipped cautiously.

‘Not bad.’ she said. ‘Not great, but it’s better than your ale.’

‘How gracious of you.’ said Jaina pointedly.

Sylvanas paused, realising she had offended her host. She drained her glass, poured another & downed that too.

‘What else do you have?’

Jaina grinned.

Various bottles & mugs appeared during their visit & Sylvanas sampled them all. To Jaina’s surprise, she took a liking to the black rum & the pair emptied several bottles.

‘Kul Tiran rum is very, very good.’ grinned the elf, her ears drooping. ‘Will you visit Silvermoon? I would love to show you the city.’

‘Of course.’ beamed Jaina, she took in the elf’s glassy eyes & drooping ears & realised Sylvanas was drunk. The fact that an elf could be inebriated by human alcohol surprised her. ‘Maybe we should go back to the Keep.’

‘But the bottle isn’t finished.’

Despite her misgivings, Jaina poured them both another glass of the rum. Sylvanas drank hers with relish & paused as the potent brew hit her. The elf’s eyes closed & her head hit the table with a thud.

‘Oh Tides!’ she swore. Jaina tossed the tavernkeeper some coins & lifted the general’s head. ‘Sylvanas?’

The elf was out cold. Jaina sighed & hoisted Sylvanas on her shoulder.

‘I am so not sober enough for this.’

Inspired by @slackergami

#sylvania #sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #world of warcraft #sometimes i write shit

[namor-the-submariner-dot-net]

Monday MCU

ART OF RUTH E. CARTER

Brand new and just out now! A monograph of Ruth E. Carter's costuming work, including chapters on Wakanda Forever with pictures and sketches, including this one of Namora's dress.

From the Marvel.com article, an excerpt from the book.

ON THE DESIGN OF THE TALOKAN IN “WAKANDA FOREVER”:

"The most challenging costumes were built for the Talokanil. I immersed myself in studying Maya culture. Not only were the Maya colonized, but also the research about them contained many misrepresentations, and sometimes they were erased from the history books all together. It was imperative that we work closely with our historian to check our work and learn about a civilization that contributed to the culture of Mesoamerica as we know it today. Through resources like the Dresden Codex and the Maya Vase Database, we learned that the Maya wore ceremonial garments and that there were leaders and families whom you could identify through their dress and adornment.

We learned that Maya traditional costumes included sheer fabrics, prints, jewelry, adorn­ments, wraps of all types, and headpieces. There were specific elements we used to stay authentic to the culture, one of which was the ear spool. The ear spool, or flare, was made of jade and at times mimicked a flower. Worn on the ear, it was considered a pathway to the gods, and there’s hardly a Maya painting or sculpture without this detail. Using ear flares throughout the Talokanil’s costumes helped achieve the right look.

We also printed our own sheer fabrics using images seen on Maya vases, painted by different artists and depicting many true-to-life scenarios of the post-classic Mesoamerican period. The vases were so incredible; using imagery from them was a way to have Maya history present in the costumes, even if, once the fabric was made into a garment, the effect was more abstract. The colors and patterns created a beautiful palette.

Then I was inspired by the Jaina figurines—a set of clay sculptures excavated on a pre-Columbian archeological dig on an island off the Yucatán Peninsula. We studied the adornments on these figurines, and they presented a plethora of ideas for clothing, jewelry, and headpieces. The sculp­tures were a significant help in creating the look for an underwater society that lived parallel to their relatives on land.

I needed to blend the rich culture of the Maya with the fact that the Talokanil were an under­water civilization, thousands of years old. This created an additional layer of difficulty. Ancient Maya costumes were made of natural fibers, jade, shells, and clay. These elements needed to be mimicked and made of materials that could withstand being submerged in water for hours. As we had seen with M’Baku’s costume, costumes underwater can be beautiful, but understanding the dynamics of buoyancy and color refraction is necessary when designing them. Fabrics float up. Weights are sometimes required to achieve a desired effect. Chlorinated water and salt water both wreak havoc on fabric dyes.

Namor, brought to life by the wonderful Tenoch Huerta, was to wear a ceremonial headpiece and shoulder piece designed to reference the feath­ered serpent, a Maya deity that is seen repeatedly wrapping the bodies of nobles in Maya art. The serpent symbolizes life above and below the earth and is associated with the underworld. Namor’s neck ring also contains two feathered serpents that meet at the center front, greeting a large pearl with open mouths. The pearl represents the ocean. The neck-ring design was inspired by the pyramid at Chichén Itza (also called Kukulkan), which has a staircase with two feathered serpents descending on each side; at the base the two heads face a cenote. We modeled the headpiece first in clay. The feath­ers were made to resemble kelp and fish fins. The serpent was cast and painted gold with elements inspired by blue and green jade and mother-of-pearl. The blue stone in the head­piece was to represent Talokan’s vibranium."

#Namor #Sub-Mariner #Namora #MCU Namor #MCU Namora #Wakanda Forever #Book #Merchandise #Monday #Monday MCU #Behind the Scenes #Costume #Ruth E. Carter #MCU

[artifacts-archive]

Maize God emerging from a flower

Maya

7th–9th century

This object is probably from Jaina Island (present-day Campeche) in Mexico. It bears striking similarities to other hand-modeled Jaina figurines and effigies that depict deities emerging from flowers or other vegetation. While the depiction of identifiable deities is relatively uncommon in Jaina figurines, this sub-group of Jaina sculpture seems to portray gods exclusively.

source

#Maya #artifact #pre Columbian #figure

[zponds]

(Credit goes to JWBtheUncanny on Deviantart)

PreCure Allstars Multi World Garrison Mantles 16-1

In light of the Event's of the Meeting the Marvel Heroes Illuminati and PreCure All Stars Held in Aozora Middle School's Auditorium on 07/11/21, learning of Gaito's true intentions of Planning to Gain the Power of the Aquarian Gods and may plan on Stealing the Cthonic-Tridens behind the Witch of Delay's Back with them Speculating He might plan on Betraying the Witch, It has now become a Priority on preparing for what ever Gaito might have planned in the near future, Knowing that Tropical-Rouge PreCure will have to journey to the Grand Ocean sooner of later, Cure Mermaid Advices that She with Poseidon, Dr. Strange, Caren, Noel and Coco accompany them, Not only to bring some of there Allies (Thrall, Jaina, Anduin, Baine, Aerith, Yuna and Prince Noctis) home, But also to Warn the Mermaid Queen of what Gaito is planning. (Whish will be the 14/11/21)

On a Special side note of when they Return, Cure White and Cure Magical Ask the Group to Participate in trying our there new Multi-World Garrison Mantles, that they will Ultimately and officially dawn in there Initiation into the All Stars Pantheon (Finally for filling Tropical-Rouge PreCure's Dreams of Joining the Pantheon to bring honour to M91).... Chloe of the Pokemon World Explains that They are Upgrading the Mantle Cloak's that will give them Protection against Dark Magic that can Steal Energies from the Body... Including Motivation... Which will give PreCure a Advantage against Gaito's and Davy Jones Faction with the Army of Malodia Backs them up to Reclaim the Grand Ocean, Leaving Tropical-Rouge PreCure to Focus on the Witch herself, That's what I can speculate at this point.

This First Pic shows us Manatsu Natsuumi / Cure Summer and Laura / Cure La Mer wearing there Mantle Cloaks, For Cure Summer's since her theme is Tropic and is more White and Rainbow for Theme Colour (Pink on sub areas) So I wanted her Cloak to make that with Mermaid's on the Edges.... and in the Inside of her Cloak, Want it to feel like looking into the the Night Sky on a Tropical Island, As for Cure La Mer's Cloak, Wanted to fill in the fact that since she's Destined to be the next Queen of the Mermaid Village, Why not replicate what I did when it came to Go Princess PreCure's Mantle Cloaks (With Poseidon and Cure Mermaid giving there input on it) and if you look closely, You will see that on the side are Shell's that are Pink, Light-Blue, Green, Purple, Dark-Blue, Yellow and Orange, The Shell's represent that Cure La Mer has been Blessed by the Seven Mermaid Queens of the United Kingdom of Melodia (AKA the Princesses from Mermaid Melody) For the Badge, I wanted to make it that Aquarian feel like it's not only native to V85 but also M19 as well.

Hope MLPFan053 and DeviantMaster2014 like these designs.

Also.... There's one thing about Tropical-Rouge PreCure's Home world I always keep getting wrong my Mistake.... I keep calling it M19 instead of M91 when I sometimes do Pics.... This have been happening on me and MLPFan053 is the only one able to point it out for me so I could Correct it in the Typing, I'm hoping when I do M91's Colony leader Cure Marina... I'll officially get it right.

#precure #pretty cure #tropical rouge precure #manatsu natsuumi #cure summer #laura apollodoros hyginus la mer #cure la mer #precure all stars #precure fanart #drawing

[enjomo-arch]

thought i'd share the npcs i work on regarding ace's birth island Dryville.

zed  is  the  saloon's  bartender  that  usually  stands  behind  a  weathered  wooden  bar.  he  has  a  sturdy  figure  with  a  grizzled,  rather  unwelcoming  at  a  first  glance  expression.  he's  usually  dressed  in  worn,  dark  pants,  a  faded  in  color  button-down  shirt,  and  suspenders.  he  looks  like  someone  who  has  endured  the  harsh  elements  of  the  frontier  and  by  no  means  that's  basically  coming  from  his  younger  years.  zed  was  an  outlaw  before  he  settled  down  in  the  town  where  rouge  came  from  as  well.  you  could  name  them  friends  from  past,  long  before  she  met  roger  he  was  like  an  older  brother  for  her. 

on  his  head  zed  wears  a  wide-brimmed  cowboy  hat,  that  adds  to  his  weather-beaten  face.  he  has  a  greying  beard,  his  skin  is  adored  in  many  wrinkles  from  his  old  age,  his  hands  are  calloused  and  scarred  after  years  of  taking  care  of  his  saloon.  when  rouge  was  pregnant  with  ace  and  she  was  escorted  to  the  island  by  garp,  zed  took  care  of  her  and  later  of  ace  as  well  when  he  was  growing  up.  he'd  let  rouge  work  with  him  in  the  saloon  as  a  waitress  and  usually  ace  was  spending  his  time  up  the  stairs.  whenever  zed  could  check  on  him  he  spent  time  with  ace,  explained  him  why  rouge  had  to  work  so  hard  for  him  and  hers  living.  he  respects  zed  a  lot  and  if  needed  he'd  sail  back  the  whole  new  world  to  get  back  to  his  island  and  help.  currently  zed  is  around  70  years  old.

miss  jaina  is  the  keeper  and  the  owner  of  the  general  store  in  the  tanmesa  town. she  wears  a  modest  ankle-length  dress  made  of  soft,  green  fabric,  a  white  -  faded  apron,  stained  with  dust  and  challenges  of  daily  chores  and  transactions  wrapped  around  her  waist.  her  blonde  hair,  often  is  pulled  back  into  a  neat  bun  or  held  by  a  black  net.  some  of  her  blonde  strands  may  escape  from  the  bun,  hanging  around  the  conturuous  of  her  face.

the  general  store  itself  is  her  most  important  business  where  she  welcomes  many  locals  with  her  fresh  food,  flowers  and  items  she  can  receive  from  trades  at  the  south  part  of  the  island  where  the  docks  are.  inside  you  can  see  well-organized  shelves  putting  on  display  an  assortment  of  the  goods  ranging  from  canned  food  to  ammunition.  jaina  is  overall  a  very  warm  and  welcoming  person.  she'd  often  sell  rouge  items  by  a  lesser  price  and  give  ace  some  sweets  when  he  came  along  with  his  mom.  he  might've  destroyed  or  tripped  some  things  from  her  shelves  but  she  was  never  mad  at  him.  truly,  jaina  was  like  a  good  grandmother  to  ace  and  a  bit  of  financial  help  to  rouge.  currently  she's  around  60  years  old.

#ii. hiken › out of character . #ii. hiken › meta . #i'll make more npcs soon but brief description of my own canon for ace : D

[redisaid]

Beneath the Blue Moon - Chapter 8

Full

Oh hi. I missed the girls. I’m back on the train of this bullshit again. 

Expect a new poll for choices on chapters 9 and 10 in a few days.

7052 Words

Read it on Ao3!

When the wind bends the branch to softly touch me, When the band plays your song, I feel strong enough to keep dreaming, Even when I'm all alone, Our love goes on and on.

Sylvanas decided that there was no worse idea ever had than that of trying to host a luncheon across the span of two ships tethered to one another. And as painful as the creaking of rope and wood and canvas against one another was to her elven ears, the fact that Jaina was just a gangplank away from her, and had been this entire time, yet still would not look at her, was far worse.

Otherwise, the summit was going well. As well as could be imagined, really. Horde and Alliance alike were enjoying tea and finger sandwiches on a sunny day in the harbor of an offshore island deemed too far away from Dazar’alor to pose a threat. Both of them were digesting Sylvanas’ words with their food, her explanation of the threat that faced them all, and the price she feared the world would pay for the theft of her soul.

Her selfish dooming of Azeroth. Nothing unusual, really. Old news before it was even news.

Just as the situation was with Jaina. The only time she’d looked into her eyes in over a decade was across the throne room in Lordaeron—when Jaina had come to save the Alliance’s bid to take her city from her.

And succeeded.

She was powerful, a ball of stress that was honestly only more beautiful for it. She looked incredible in her Kul Tiran uniform, even today, sulking with a greatcoat draped over her shoulders, unbuttoned otherwise for the heat of the Zandalari sun.

Just because she wouldn’t look at Sylvanas didn’t mean Sylvanas couldn’t look at her.

And honestly, over the years, in the scant times that they’d shared space since, all she could ever do was look at her. To look at her, going on, changing, becoming something without her. In the absence of her.

Sylvanas wondered if the emptiness had gnawed at her? The lack of what once was? Their connection, bone deep, severed even as Sylvanas still walked this world. Maybe it was the years of having had time to process it properly, as Sylvanas didn’t, that had hardened Jaina to her. To this need.

It was a need. Like the living needed water and air and food and shelter. Sylvanas was dead, still, and needed none of these. But she needed Jaina. She needed her like withered elves needed mana. Like—

“Warchief, a moment of your time?”

Anduin Wrynn. A lad of annoying height that he’d only gained in the last few years, loomed over her in his ceremonial lion armor, a polite smile tugging at the corner of his beardless lips. Last she’d seen him wear that armor, it was when she’d run from him, defeated at Lordaeron, wondering after the apology that seemed to echo in Jaina’s eyes.

Still too broken to understand it, but questioning all the same.

“By all means, High King,” she said with a nod.

In all her life and thereafter, Sylvanas had never imagined she would be nodding to a king. A boy king besides that, but even so, she had thought she would remain nothing more than a General, still giving a full bow to Anestarian, hoping he’d hold on a few more centuries and spare her from doing the same to Kael’thas.

Anduin came to stand with her on the aft deck of the Banshee’s Wail, mounting the stairs with a plate of tiny sandwiches still in hand.

“I have to admit I was rather fascinated by your tales of the Shadowlands,” he told her. “And what you’d experienced there. I was hoping you might answer some questions for me, about the nature of death.”

He would be disappointed to know how little she knew. How little she cared to know. Sylvanas could tell him exactly what death was. Unfair. Broken. A thing that ground one down, bones to dust. Souls to anima. A transformation to smaller parts, in which, along the way, the whole was lost forever.

A thing that made the decay and disgust of decomposition seem kind.

But instead, she said to him, “You may ask what you wish. I will share what I know, but I would hardly call my knowledge of the Shadowlands encyclopedic.”

“You mentioned there being other realms of death, besides the place you called the Maw. I was wondering…”

Wonder away, she almost wanted to tell him. Sylvanas herself had only seen glimpses of them as the Jailer’s servants had escorted her through a tour of the unfairness of death—the great separation and unending that awaited all living things.

Beautiful Bastion, its angelic embrace a front for a great lie—consuming the souls of heroes to turn them into willing servants and ferriers of yet even more souls. Malevolent Maldraxxus, where the souls of the warlike could play at war for the rest eternity, never satisfied with an end to their violence. Repentant Revendreth, whose aesthetic honestly didn’t miss, but otherwise enslaved the souls of the evil to extract from them in exchange for the slim hope at a better fate.

There was no better fate. Not even in Ardenweald, among the eternal forest, caring for slumbering gods. The Jailer had taunted her, telling her this was where she’d been headed before Arthas had rent her soul in twain and damned her to undeath and her eventual bargain. But even in her kindest end, Sylvanas now knew she would have become nothing more than a nymph of the woods that did not remember herself.

Or Jaina.

Or Lirath. Or Mother and father. Their souls too, were already lost in this machine of death. One that still very much deserved to be broken.

But not at the costs she had already paid.

Sylvanas waited for him to seem to finish his question, though she did not truly listen to the rest of it. “I’m afraid I’ve seen little outside of the Maw.”

She lied through simplicity. Much as she wished Anduin to enjoy his little sandwiches and hear out her request for peace, she was not here for him.

She was here for the woman who wouldn’t so much as set foot on the Horde side of the ships, and had all the reasons in the world to stay where she was. The Alliance side was made up of one of her ships, actually. Her flagship was larger, but sat lower in the water overall to the point where such side by side anchorage was possible for them. Still, it made Sylvanas nervous. All canons and teeth.

Jaina had a right to every one of those guns.

“I just wondered if you might know where my father went. Where a man like him would go to his eternal rest?” Anduin asked.

The porcelain plate in his hands reflected sunlight dully up at her amidst an array of cucumber, mayonnaise, and white bread. King Wrynn could not look her in the eye as he asked.

Bastion? Perhaps. Varian was a hero, certainly, and Sylvanas remembered well the time they fought side by side, deck to deck on different ships in the sky and not at sea. The way it made her thick black blood seem to race again to fight beside a warrior of equal skill, despite their opposite factions. It was only recent, very recent to one with both an elf and an undead’s lengthy perception of time. She would not soon forget the feeling.

But Varian was headstrong. Willful in the way Alliance men seemed to excel at. A warrior through and through. Perhaps he fought in the endless battles of Maldraxxus.

But death was infinite and terrible. Its realms expanded on and on, like the twisting tower of Torghast. It was not for mortal comprehension. It was not meant to make sense, or to be fair.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” was the most honest answer she could give him. “But, as you do, I would hope he rests peacefully, and remains as such. I cannot recommend the alternative.”

Anduin Wrynn had never heard her make a joke before. That occurred to her as he stared at her, one bushy blonde eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

Not many people from the other ship had heard her make a joke before, actually. Or even on her side of the gangplank.

Among the many disservices of her death and the loss of her whole soul was that the world had forgotten she was funny.

She used to be very funny.

“Right,” Anduin eventually said, catching the gape that his mouth was starting to form and closing his teeth with an audible click. “Perhaps I might draft up a letter with a list of questions, or put you in contact with a scholar to chronicle your knowledge.”

“No doubt many will be interested. I’ve already been approached by the Reliquary and my own Apothecaries since my announcement to the Horde,” Sylvanas informed him.

She had no doubt that she would be made to recount her singular experiences a hundred times over. If Azeroth survived to care about them, that is.

“But,” she continued. “My priorities at the moment are ensuring that we work together to protect the world of the living and my people alike from that which may threaten us.”

Diplomacy never felt right to her. Even as successful as she had been at it here and there. She was a creature of trails and trees, not of contracts and meetings.

Or graves and the ink darkness of night. Lingering fog and dripping horrors. Teeth gnashing at rotting flesh.

Reconciling the two was still too difficult to keep in the forefront of her mind. Both parts of her had known a life of duty and objectivity coming first. That, at least, Sylvanas could focus on.

Even as her eyes tracked the deep blue of Jaina’s greatcoat from across the deck.

“Right,” Anduin said again, nodding along and picking up a tiny sandwich in meaty hands that must have come from his father. “If you want to discuss anything in specific about the draft agreement I’ve put forth, before we bring it to the table here, let me know.”

It was good, for a draft. Sylvanas had nothing to bring up. She knew that the other leaders of the Horde would be happy to squabble about the particulars and pick it apart. She was only concerned with setting a limit on the time they could do so. Dread and anxiety were her constant companions, even as she didn’t settle her thoughts on her disparate existence. Time, she felt, was a borrowed luxury they did not have to throw around, though she could not say why exactly.

She hadn’t bothered to go into descriptions of the Jailer’s forces to great degrees. “The Scourge, but worse,” was approximately what she had told the Alliance to watch out for. But her vision had been clouded by the black feathers of Mawsworn. The dull gray metal of armored constructs. The sharp bone of skeletal horrors.

“It is a fine agreement for the time being,” Sylvanas told him. “One that I will work to ensure the Horde honors as we face this threat.”

“I will tell you there is some skepticism on my side that there is a threat at all,” Anduin said, still holding the sandwich. “Not from my part. You are quite obviously changed to my eyes, if you don’t mind me saying so. Something has happened to cause that, and I believe you there. But others aren’t so quick to trust.”

No, they would not be. Not Genn Greymane, his silvered fur bristled as he stalked the deck of Jaina’s ship, one of the many not to leave it. In fact, the only ones to cross the gangplank thus far were Anduin and Baine.

As Sylvanas’ eyes flitted briefly away from Jaina, they noted her sisters were nowhere to be found on the Alliance ship. Neither, it seemed, had the courage to face her, or represent their factions of stolen elves. Stolen names.

“I honestly hope that I’m wrong, Wyrnn,” she told him. “I hope that nothing happens. But I fear that we will feel the Jailer’s wrath and fear we will feel it soon. My promise remains regardless of whether that happens or not, though. Azeroth has spent too long at war, and I no longer wish to be the cause of it.”

“What changed your mind?”

Sylvanas was hardly prepared for the question.

A dead body, dripping salt water on her table in the cabin just below them, was the root of the answer. But Derek Proudmoore’s rotted corpse was mostly a symbol. A message to her from her. From beyond her.

You are better than this. You are better than a pawn in someone else’s game.

Sylvanas knew what she wanted, and knew then, as she stared down a decision she did not want to make, that it wasn’t that. She wished she made this long ago, honestly. At the peak of Icecrown Citadel. Over Vol’jin’s dying, fel-ridden body. Before the flames were launched at Teldrassil.

Early as she could go back, honestly, but it would never be enough.

Her hands were already stained with blood from the moment they’d become her own again. From the first flex of spectral fingers that was her will and hers alone, after her death. But before then, they’d been used to rip the faces off of elven children. To rend the land that had birthed her so deeply that it was still scarred to this day. Bodiless, monstrous, and broken beyond repair—she had been irredeemable from the very start of her unlife.

Even now, soul restored to wholeness, hands corporeal but still stained with that blood and so much more, there was no fixing it. There was no forgiveness. No justice. No redemption to be sought.

There never would be.

Sylvanas’ eyes still tracked the blue greatcoat across the deck of the Kul Tiran ship. No doubt it was hot, but Jaina kept herself beneath it as if it were a shield that protected her from the foulness of the very air.

Foul, perhaps, because of who it was shared with. Truly, all Sylvanas could get from her over their renewed bond since the ships both docked was a feeling of general annoyance bordering on aversion. It pulled at the bottom of her stomach and tightened her chest.

Only then, as he waited for an answer, did Anduin’s eyes follow hers and land on the real answer to his question.

How could she explain that to the boy king? That even in her undeath, her brokenness, her grief over her own life, she could not violate the bond that had once tied her to Jaina. She could not bring herself to attack her directly. The thought had repelled her, like one magnetic pole to another of the same charge. It was never an option.

And even Jaina, in all her disgust, had looked sorry at Lordaeron for being willing to do what she was not.

A memory stirred in Sylvanas’ mind, so vivid now with her newfound ability to connect to the fullness of its emotions. Once, she and Jaina had sat on the beach outside of Windrunner Spire, an outing prompted after their recounting of similar childhoods spent by the seashore. The beach outside the Spire was mostly rocky, and only had a small strip of smooth sand on which they’d laid out a little picnic.

It had been the day before they had to leave one another. Jaina laughed and teased and loved her. She smelled of mana wine and pomegranates and honey pastries. She leaned in for a kiss, on that perfect afternoon, and asked as she pulled away, “But where will we live?”

The question was a loaded one. No answer was correct. The first difficult to navigate strait in the sea of their union. Sylvanas wanted to answer that here at the Spire was good. But Jaina was an agent of the Kirin Tor, based in Dalaran. Sylvanas hated Dalaran, and was the Ranger General of Quel’thalas. But Jaina was also technically heir to the Kul Tiran admiralty, and would presumably need to return there or name her younger brother heir instead some day. Back then, her father still lived and was still young enough to the point it wasn’t the forethought on anyone’s mind, save maybe Sylvanas’ as she worried for them. And then there was the Alliance, based in Lordaeron and not Stormwind back then, that called to the loyalties of both of them.

Sylvanas had listed all of these in a panicked tirade of sorts, wanting to find the answer.

It was Jaina who had arrived at the real answer with a smile, “Don’t worry so much. We’ll figure it out.”

They never got to even try.

“I see,” Anduin started. “Well if—”

“You wretched beast!” A Thalassian screech came from just below them, causing both Anduin and Sylvanas to lean over the railing to see the source.

That happened to be Velonara shaking an offending pest off of her boot. The offending pest being a small pink dinosaur that was clinging onto the black leather, gnawing at the laces.

Nathanos ran over from where he’d been entertaining Gallywix and his goblins, prying the creature off with a desperate whisper of, “How did you get out?” before carrying it back into the aft cabin with a huff.

He was successful in that at least, despite the creature’s protesting squawk and sharp little teeth that no doubt left a few tiny holes in his gloves.

“Fascinating wildlife here in Zandalar,” Anduin noted as distraction was removed.

“Yes, fascinating,” Sylvanas agreed dryly.

She’d have a talk with Nathanos about smuggling his newest pets onto diplomatic missions later.

Thankfully, as Anduin seemed to be following her gaze across to the other ship again, another distraction was provided in the form of red hair and golden armor. Lady Liadrin stood on the last step up to the aft deck, seemingly waiting to be invited to join them.

Still a stickler for decorum, after all these years. Sylvanas hadn’t spoken to her since, save to grant orders. Once, she had considered her a friend.

They even went on a terrible date once, centuries ago. Absolutely awful. Liadrin had tried to order for her at the restaurant, and it had only gotten worse from there. And now here she was, waiting to be acknowledged. It must have physically pained the control freak that Sylvanas knew lay beneath all that armor.

“Matriarch,” Sylvanas said with a nod in her direction.

Liadrin still looked like shit. Like she’d been run over by a goblin trike and left in the streets of Orgrimmar to die for it. She did her best to hold it together and bowed gracefully and appropriately to Sylvanas and Anduin, but the signs were there. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

And Sylvanas was struggling with wanting to actually ask what that was, when she was owed no such answer.

“Warchief, High King,” Liadrin said as she rose.

Anduin was respectful in his own nod to her, offering a greeting, “Bal’a dash, Lady Liadrin.”

His pronunciation was not terrible, for all it was worth. And while Sylvanas expected Liadrin not to have any interest in his attempt, her golden eyes only settled on the young king. A question burned in them. A question she did not ask.

Her gaze instead flitted around the boy king, left, then right, then back to him. Searching for something.

There was nothing up here but Sylvanas, Anduin, and the ship’s wheel. Maybe it was some Light thing? That, at least, Sylvanas had never understood in any of her lives. Nor had she cared to. Especially now. Religion was not the realm of the dead.

“It’s no rush,” Liadrin began, finally, “but I was hoping I might borrow a moment of your time before we reconvene, King Wrynn.”

“Certainly. We have not spoken since the Legion’s invasion, and I treasure any opportunity to speak to a sister in the Light,” was Anduin’s very warm and seemingly genuine answer.

Only he didn’t get to continue on to the point of turning Sylvanas’ undead stomach with his religious drivel.

The afternoon sun flickered strangely out of the corner of her eye. Sylvanas banished the thought, just another vision of dread. Another fantasy of what could come for her, for all of them. The price she would pay for the faint blue glow of the moon she kept hidden on her wrist beneath her clawed gauntlets, matching that which would be similarly hidden by the golden gauntlet on Jaina’s casting hand.

The price she’d paid to be ignored and shunned yet again. Sylvanas was coming to the conclusion that she did indeed deserve it. Her best hope was this peace, and buying herself a few years of good behavior, of attempted redemption where there could truly be none, just to be heard. To be seen. To be looked at, even, with anything other than pity or silent apology.

But then the sun flickered again, this time catching the hard gold of Liadrin’s eyes enough to rouse them from the dark bags that sunk beneath them. Enough for Sylvanas to follow her gaze to the west.

“Mawsworn!” she shouted.

No one but her knew the meaning of the word, of the dark silhouettes that flocked toward them, shading out the sun with a mass of black feathers. They looked not too dissimilar from her Val’kyr, but larger. Fiercer. Intent. Whereas the Val’kyr waited on orders, inert but for the occasional flap of wings, Sylvanas had never seen a Mawsworn that didn’t have some terrible mission on their mind, always flying toward something.

And now they were flying toward her, and her peace summit.

Deathwhisper was in her hands in an instant. No Thas’dorah, certainly, but she could make it work. No doubt things would be better if she’d accepted the Jailer’s gifts, the chained arrows he’d promised in exchange for more and more dirty deeds.

Only now did she regret not taking him up on the offer.

“That’s what they look like? I don’t under—”

Anduin was cut off from his confusion by Liadrin drawing her sword and standing between him and the western sky.

“Arm yourself!” she ordered someone she had no business ordering, gruff voice grated even deeper by her apparent exhaustion.

That was enough to shake Anduin out of his questioning, though he muttered, “They look like angels,” as he drew his father’s famed sword.

They were not angels. Angels lived in Bastion and forgot themselves. Angels carried the dead into the machine to chop them up at the behest of yet even more masters. Nowhere could anyone be free, even in death.

Not, at least, if they didn’t fight.

Sylvanas knocked an arrow and looked to the combined forces of Horde and Alliance leadership on the decks below her, scrambling to her warning call. Satisfied that the Horde ship had a suitable amount of Dark Rangers with bows drawn as she had, even Nathanos, and plenty of Orcish axes and Tauren totems alike joining them, she cast a look over to the Alliance ship.

And to a blue coat beneath which hands were forming to host an icy spell. Jaina’s eyes glowed with arcane, visible even from this far away, as she stood between most of her own people and the new threat.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Sylvanas shouted over the water and wood. “Watch for their chains!”

And then they were upon them. So fast did their black wings carry them across Azeroth’s sky that it was seemingly unnatural. No time to think of where they could have come from or how or why. Well, the why Sylvanas was certain of, at least.

They’d come for her.

She fired the first shot, an arrow that ripped through the black feathers of the winged skeleton, slicing just the corner of its dark cloak. Wide and misaimed.

The product of fear. A deep fear that Sylvanas had not felt in years. A fear not for herself, but for those around her. For Anduin. Liadrin. Even traitorous Baine, who didn’t think she’d known of his dealings with the Alliance. And Jaina.

Of course, Jaina. But she shot second, and her ice lance hit true, striking a Mawsworn from the air and into the ocean with the force of it.

Truly, what an honor it was to be destined for such a powerful woman, who had only grown into that power and beauty over these last hard years. What a privilege, even if she wouldn’t deign to look at the broken creature that was Sylvanas Windrunner.

Sylvanas knocked another arrow. She fired. She hit deep into an eye socket this time, causing another Mawsworn to fall. She listened as Liadrin and Anduin whispered blessings under their breath, laying hands on one another to trade them.

She knocked a third arrow, but didn’t get a chance to fire before a chain shot out toward her.

Liadrin dutifully deflected this with her shield, offering Sylvanas cover to fire behind. The fear dissipated, and suddenly her dead heart was full of a feeling of ancient camaraderie. Of memories of Liadrin when she still wielded the mace of a priestess, and was no less fearsome in her white robes than she was in her golden and crimson armor. Of times when she’d done this before, standing between Sylvanas and an Amani troll. An Alliance footman. A shambling undead horror. A massive, horned demon.

This was just another enemy. Another in the unending chain of threats that Azeroth seemed to face. And as shaped by war as Sylvanas was like no one else, she had to remind herself that she was not the only one so molded. Maybe not to such a degree, but she wasn’t about to debate that with Liadrin.

She was grateful, she realized, as she fired over her shoulder with a little smirk on her face.

“Ready yourselves!” Sylvanas delivered one last final warning as she made a fifth shot over Liadrin’s red ponytail.

The decks became crowded with black feathers and magical chains. They were just as soon filled with broken bones and battered pieces of dull gray armor. While she didn’t like being caught off guard, the place to do so was certainly around the best and brightest that each faction had to offer, as it seemed none of them had a problem with this initial onslaught.

Nathanos had hopped up on the aft deck to join them, and flashed her a grin as he buried one of his axes into a screaming skull. Midship, Saurfang headbutted another skull with such force that it cracked loudly enough to draw her attention a moment later. She caught sight of Genn Greymane with a fibula in his wolven mouth. Maybe an ulna. The area around Jaina was just coated in ice, several Mawsworn either frozen within it or shattered by it.

They were many, but they were fragile. They were not meant to be here in the living world, and it seemed to be a weakness to them. Their bones were brittle, Sylvanas realized as she cleaved yet another skull near in two with a close range shot.

This was a battle that could be easily won.

Even Anduin was holding up next to her, green boy that he obviously was. He’d made a good run of it at Lordaeron, and had shown courage then, but his heart was not in it. That much was clear to Sylvanas. He didn’t have that streak of joy in the kill to him. She doubted he’d even enjoy a good hunt, and would weep instead for the animals.

But, he still cut clean through a ribcage. A leg. An arm. A haze of black feathers.

And somehow missed the chain that wrapped around him.

His grunt of surprise was what alerted her as he was lifted into the air. The Mawsworn that had tangled him made haste to fly up, up, and then off.

They weren’t here to fight. They were here to take. Zovaal didn’t care how many of his abominations he lost in the process. He only needed to rob Sylvanas of one of her allies, or her own freedom, to prove that his vengeance was not to be trifled with.

And she wasn’t about to let him win another battle. Never again.

She rolled out of the cloud of Mawsworn that had descended on the aft deck, up to the rail that stood between her and the sea. She took aim, willing the necromantic magic that bound her to unlife into her arrow until it swirled with darkness, hoping that would be enough. She fired at the chain that held Anduin aloft, slowly raising upward to bring him into the embrace of the Mawsworn that was carrying him off.

Her shot hit true, determined as she was that it would. It snapped the chain, but left the boy king falling rapidly toward the ocean.

Sylvanas didn’t hesitate. Much as she hated her banshee form, and the memories she still carried of those days where she watched its clawed hands move against her will to aid Arthas in destroying Silvermoon, she slipped into it without lingering on those thoughts. There was no time for it.

She shot forward at speed that almost matched that of unnatural Mawsworn, managing to catch him just before he hit the waves. He would have hit them hard, covered in that ridiculous plate, and sunk below them immediately. There was no other choice.

Even though he shied away from her and the scream that echoed from her spectral mouth unbidden as it must when she was this way.

Sylvanas wanted to warn him to cover his ears, but she couldn’t speak when she was like this. She could only scream.

No wonder Jaina wouldn’t look at her. She was still dead. Broken. Monstrous. A war criminal on her best day. An abomination no different than those that attacked them at her worst.

As she soared back upward to the aft deck with him in her arms, Sylvanas couldn’t help but notice the blue glow on the wrist that curled around Anduin. Even temporarily banishing her physical body, and the mark that contained that fire, she was not without it.

But she didn’t have time to contemplate that either. She surged upward with one last blast of a scream, reminding herself to beg forgiveness from Anduin later, and summoned her corporeal form once she had him dumped safely onto the deck once more.

A little bit unceremoniously, perhaps. A little rougher than necessary, surely.

For the Undercity, Sylvanas thought to herself as she took up Deathwhisper again, and went back to filling Mawsworn with arrows. For the Undercity indeed, she stood over Anduin as he got to his feet and got ready to continue the fight. She made sure to turn around at her earliest opportunity, and shoot down the one that was coming back from the sea, having realized its prize had been stolen from it.

As easily as they fell, their numbers were so great. So much so that Sylvanas lost count of how many she’d downed quickly. She was also busy keeping her eyes on the sky to ensure that no one else was being taken, but it seemed only Anduin had been caught unaware by the chains thus far. She’d dodged more than a few of her own, grabbing him by his tabard to drag him with her up to the railing overlooking the lower deck. Large as he was, she was stronger. Yet another point for undeath today.

What she saw there was nothing short of disappointing. Most of the Mawsworn were clustered on the aft deck of her ship, and between her, Anduin, Liadrin, and Nathanos, had mostly been dispatched. The Horde below had dealt with nearly all that assailed them already.

But the Alliance ship didn’t fare as well. Only Jaina seemed to be a deadly force enough to leave her icy corner of the Kul Tiran flagship fully clear. Otherwise, it was still a haze of black feathers and battle cries.

“Horde, what are you doing?” Sylvanas questioned of idle axes and swords, arcane and Light alike. “Protect our allies! We must work together!”

With one last quick check to make sure that Nathanos and Liadrin had a handle on the remaining Mawsworn on the aft deck, Sylvanas turned to Anduin and told him, “I’m afraid your little papers must wait. Allow me to prove the truth of my words. Fight with me.”

“I didn’t doubt you in the first place!” Anduin protested as she led the way across the gangplank to the deck of the Kul Tiran ship.

The Kul Tiran ship, where it seemed the Mawsworn had realized who was to be feared there. Who was to be prioritized. Or perhaps, who the Jailer had sent to target.

Whose capture and subsequent torture in the bowels of hell itself would hurt Sylvanas most.

The remainder of them were closing in on Jaina, chains lashing out only to meet wave after wave of ice, shattering them each time. Impressive as it was, Sylvanas knew she couldn’t keep it up forever. Mana was a thing in limited quantities, even for one of Azeroth’s most powerful mages.

Certainly its most beautiful, eyes aglow with magic, greatcoat forgotten and frozen to the deck beside her, white braid whipping in the wind.

As much as Sylvanas enjoyed looking at her soulmate in her battle fury, she was here to help her, wanted or not. She took aim and fired at a Mawsworn that was getting too close, and nodded to Anduin as he ran to assist the woman he apparently would refer to as his aunt, despite their lack of blood relation.

Bones clattered to the polished wood of the deck, darker and slicker than that of her own ship. Ice smashed and shattered into crystalline explosions that tingled Sylvanas’ sensitive elven ears. A dwarf threw a thunder-laden hammer that whizzed past her. Genn was snarling off to her left, but at the Mawsworn he was biting at and not her. And finally, the Horde followed. Saurfang crashed into a skeletal figure that was flanking her right. A spectral dinosaur came across the gangplank, summoned by the muttered words of Talanji to assist. A goblin rocket was aimed with surprising care and managed to hit only a pack of Mawsworn that were cutting off the aft deck of the Alliance ship from the rest of the fight.

In her efforts to get to Jaina and help, Sylvanas hadn’t realized how close they were. Suddenly, it seemed, they were nearly back to back—Sylvanas facing west to keep an eye on the sky, and Jaina facing east to blast the last big group of Mawsworn with a cone of ice wind, freezing them in place for the coming rush of melee fighters to smash to bits.

Only when she heard the panting breaths of Jaina thrumming against her ears, did she realize this was the closest she’d been to her in over a decade. The last time she’d heard her this winded, this close, it had been for much better reasons. Much more pleasant, at least.

Sylvanas turned to the east to see if there were anymore enemies, but was only met with blue eyes.

Blue eyes, looking at her for the second time in all these years. This time not begging for an apology Jaina would not give. Could not give.

This time, they were regarding her as if she’d never seen her before. Curiously. Cautiously.

Almost like the first time Sylvanas ever saw them, when Jaina came through the portal with Vereesa in tow, chattering to her about how excited she was to have potentially found her sister’s soulmate for her.

How beautiful she’d been then too. Young, but knowing. Her hair shining gold to match the leaves of the forests of Quel’thalas. She’d been a vision in the purple and white livery of the Kirin Tor. With her curious blue eyes, and the smile she’d given her after that first cautious look.

Sylvanas hadn’t been what she expected. Jaina hadn’t been what she’d expected either. But somehow, they’d been perfect for each other.

But this time—thirteen years and countless tragedies later, Jaina did not smile. She turned away, searching for Anduin before asking him, “Anduin, are you all right?”

He wasn’t in the best shape. Sylvanas could see blood dripping from one of his ears, likely the fault of her banshee wail. The foul magic of the chains that had wrapped him had left a nasty red mark in their pattern across his cheek. He was far more winded than Jaina, even, but was able to give her a nod.

Still, she checked him over, pushed at his breastplate to stand him up straight so she could confirm he was otherwise unhurt.

“Sylvanas saved me,” he blurted out when he managed to catch his breath.

“I saw,” Jaina told him, speaking under her breath, but not quiet enough to avoid being heard by an elf.

Sylvanas watched as she flexed her casting hand, and the other one briefly came to touch it, shaking. She turned and looked at Sylvanas again, still seeming to be undecided.

But across their bond, weak as it was, Sylvanas felt a tug. A pull. Magnetic in the opposite way she’d been thinking of before. A draw that demanded they be together. The very laws of physics itself would not allow for anything else.

The deck was soon awash with activity that swept Jaina from her vision before they could connect. Leaders gathering, now all on the Kul Tiran ship for the first time—examining remains of their enemies, wondering at the suddenness of the attack, the strange chains, the purpose of it all. Some mutters, too, of how convenient it was that this had come just after Sylvanas had warned them. Of how it could be another one of her tricks.

Again, she’d not given them reason to suspect otherwise. It would not take one battle, one rescue of an enemy leader, to prove her intentions.

Sylvanas knew this would take years, if she was lucky. Restoring even the smallest amount of trust in her among the rest of Azeroth would be a near impossible feat. But, at least they would all understand what to watch out for now, if nothing else.

She was about to look for Nathanos or one of her Rangers to ask for a report from them when a hand reached for her upper arm. A gap between her pauldrons and gauntlets that all Ranger armor had, to allow for the movement of one’s arms. A gap one would only reach for if one was familiar with it, and looking to make contact with skin.

A gap where Jaina Proudmoore’s hand started a feedback loop that Sylvanas hadn’t felt in thirteen years. Even through the cloth of her glove, Sylvanas could feel her feeling her feeling her feeling her. The coldness of her skin. The curiosity. The hesitation. But still, she was touching her. Trying to get her attention in only the way she could.

Sylvanas turned to face her, wordless, only feeling. Only feeling her and Jaina’s sensations of one another mingle and merge until they were indistinguishable. Was that her shock or Jaina’s? Was the cloth on her skin or Jaina’s? Was she surprised at herself and how she reacted, how much this took the wind out of her sails, or was that Jaina’s Kul Tiran expression leaking through her thoughts.

It was too much and not enough at once. Sylvanas wanted to run. She wanted to pull away. She wanted to pull Jaina to her, cover her skin with hers, regardless of how cold and dead it might be, and lose herself in this heady feeling. She wanted the true completeness of her soul that was only found in her arms. She wanted to rewind time itself, and forget all these sins that had kept them apart, had kept her desperate enough to commit them in the name of the hope of this.

“Tomorrow, Theramore,” Jaina whispered to her, hand still on her skin. “I will meet you. We can talk. I…”

Sylvanas’ eyes traced down from Jaina’s own blue eyes to her lips. Lips she could still remember kissing. Lips that she remembered setting alight the mark on her wrist with the sweetest kiss anyone could ever receive.

The kiss that marked a life that would no longer have to be lived alone. That meant she would have a partner, forever. For as long as this chaotic world of theirs would let them both live, at least.

And perhaps beyond that.

She watched as those lips mouthed a word, seemingly running out of breath and will to speak it.

A world Sylvanas had taught her.

“Rea’anath,” she’d said once, cradled in Sylvanas’ arms in her bedroom at the Spire.

“Bonded soul,” Sylvanas had translated for her. “In case you hear anyone call you that in reference to me.”

“Should I call you that?” Jaina had asked.

“You can if you’d like,” Sylvanas had told her before leaning in to kiss the word out of her mouth before she could say it again.

But now, on the deck of her ship, surrounded by shattered bones and ice, Sylvanas could only stare after her as Jaina’s hand left her arm, and she ran to catch Anduin again as he surveyed the damage. She could only chase after the echo of their looped feelings. Of a touch she didn’t deserve and wasn’t ready for, even if it was what she’d wanted most, killed and died again and again to get back. Of a word she was so certain she’d never hear her say again, not fully voiced, but still attempted.

A bond renewed. A flame fed to roaring. A longing that consumed her as emptiness once had.

#sylvaina #Sylvanas Windrunner #Jaina Proudmoore #fanfic #beneath the blue moon #sorry for the months long hiatus on this #but damn if it wasn't a treat to write catty sylvanas again #i missed her so much

[rinwellisathing]

It's A Thankless Job: Part 10

“Wyll, I'm worried about Karlach.” Jaina frowned across the table as they sat together at her favorite little sushi place by the docks. “This Gortash situation is really messing with her recovery and I'm kind of afraid that my whole situation has taken away a lot of valuable energy we could have been spending making sure she was alright. I don't want to be the reason she slips up...I mean, obviously, preferably she flourishes and has a chance to get better and doesn't slip up at all, you know what I mean.” Jaina's tail swished nervously behind her, she wore a sea green ribbon around it today with a small silver charm in the shape of an anchor sewn in the center. The breeze billowed her navy blue shawl around her like a cloak occasionally granting a small peek at her delicate white lace trimmed sundress. “I know, but he's running unopposed and even if my father and I were on speaking terms, he would never listen to me, not after the damage Mizora did...” Wyll glumly rested his face on his hands with a sigh.

Jaina's expression softened and she reached for his hand, running a soft fingertip across his calloused skin. “Hey, you did the right thing, okay? You saved thousands of lives. If your father can't see that, if he'd judge you for it, he doesn't deserve the joy of being near you.” She gave him a reassuring, fond smile. “I know that, and I still don't regret it, but that doesn't help Karlach right now.” Wyll sighed, gently taking Jaina's hand and squeezing it softly. Jaina looked deeply into Wyll's eyes, as though searching for something and then her own bright blue eyes widened and she grinned. “Hey...I have an idea! Maybe your father isn't the right Ravengard for the job....After all, he isn't exactly a paragon of understanding and he hasn't faced decisions as difficult as you have....Maybe the people need a man who's been there, who isn't afraid to make the tough choices, who they can trust to put them first.”

“Jaina...” Wyll began, looking away nervously. “No, I'm serious, Wyll, you would be good at it! And on top of that, if you ever needed advice, my father had political authority back on the island, he was raising me to do what he did, I can help!” Her heartbeat quickened. Somewhere in the back of Jaina's mind, a little voice told her this was selfish, asked her if this was really for Wyll and Karlach or just her chance to no longer feel like she was burdening them, to have some semblance of control, but she ignored it. She forced it down and told herself it was necessary to see that Gortash never got into that sort of position of power, it was just her and Wyll working together to help Karlach. “I....”Wyll bit his lip and thought for a moment, searching for the right words, the right choice. He felt anxiety welling in his chest, prodding at a piece of salmon on his plate for a moment as he considered. Jaina was right, Gortash couldn't be allowed to simply take power unchallenged, it wasn't just detrimental for Karlach, it would be bad for everyone. Wyll had heard some of Gortash's ideas since he'd caught Karlach obsessively checking up on the campaign, they sounded horrific to say the least. That, and there were certainly changes Wyll could think of that would benefit the people he loved and the city as a whole. True, he didn't want to leave his work, but this was a higher calling, a greater duty. He supposed he couldn't ignore it. “Alright. We can work out some details when we get home. I do have some thoughts....”

--- “So you're gonna run against Gortash for mayor? Fuck yeah! That's brilliant! You would be great at it!” Karlach grinned as she watched Wyll carefully writing in his beautiful handwriting on a piece of lined paper, occasionally raising the pen thoughtfully to his lips and considering before he continued. Jaina stood at the book case, her fingertips tracing the spines of several books, stopping briefly to select a few and then sending them over to Wyll on the couch with an elegant pale blue mage hand which smelled of fresh sea air and water lillies. The books neatly laid themselves out across the table, flipping open to the correct pages where the most relevant information could be found. “Hey, you could use Scratch and Nibbles as your mascots! People love cute animals!” Karlach looked over to the two, who were currently very deeply involved in pulling a rope toy back and forth with playful growls and shrieks. “I love it, the likeable everyman, adored by every living thing!” Jaina grinned. “Gortash doesn't have that kind of charm.” Wyll frowned a bit. “Doesn't that feel a bit manipulative? The focus should be on the issues. We have him there, Gortash wants to solve the city's problems with crackdowns and fearmongering, my ideas are community focused and start with offering resources. I think that's a clear point in our favor.” “Yeah, but the average person doesn't get that. They say stupid things like 'Oh, I don't want my hard earned gold going to some tiefling refugee!' while not really considering that those same resources will help them too. People are pretty selfish most of the time.” Jaina frowned, lowering her head.

“I don't think that's it, I think a lot of them just don't really stop to think about what's going on. They're tired, overworked, just trying to live their lives.” Wyll replied, leaning back on the couch, his expression pensive as he looked over all the books Jaina had pulled out, the clever wording, the painstaking research that went into them. “I think I'm going about this all wrong...people don't want empty promises or grand speeches, they want someone who speaks to them, not over them. I think I know what I need to say.” He stood up and walked towards the bedroom, opening his phone as he went. Jaina and Karlach watched him go, surprised at first, but neither one could help but smile a bit. His confidence was reassuring. They knew when he felt strongly about something he saw it through. “Need help putting those books away?” Karlach asked with a gentle grin. “Yeah, I'd like that....Oh I wish I hadn't pulled so many, if I'd known he wouldn't need them I wouldn't have messed up so many shelves.” Jaina bit her lip with an exaggerated, playful little whimper. “Aww, don't worry. Mama K always pays attention when you talk about your library stuff.” Karlach reassured her, her tail playfully entwining with Jaina's tail as she gave her a gentle, reassuring kiss and brushed past to replace two books on the shelf. “See? Alphabetical order by genre. I do listen.” She beamed. “Oh, you.” Jaina grinned. ---- “I know what it's like to worry about a loved one, how I'm going to get them help when they're sick, if we'll both still have jobs to return to when it takes so much time just to deal with health. I've seen good people like you feel defeated rather than relieved when you're pulled from a fire or a collapse because now instead of being able to recover from that trauma, you have to worry about whether or not you'll be able to rebuild your life or if some faceless company is going to decide you can't, and all based on reasons you have no way of knowing. That's why I'm running for mayor. I've seen all of these things first hand and I know that improving life in our city starts with making it easier to live.” Wyll concluded, reaching down subconsciously to rub at Scratch's ear for reassurance, the dog happily obliging with a hearty, slobbery lick to his hand.

Cameras flashed from the gathered crowd, scattered applause and sounds of appreciation could be heard, and Wyll grinned with pride. He'd been confident his message would resonate, but to see it for real was something else entirely. “You did well. Your points were salient, your message connected, and I think with my insight into the medical community and your experience dealing with it from the outside, we can certainly come up with some concrete proposals.” Kroger smiled as he approached from the audience. “You certainly have my vote and I'm sure my sisters' as well.” “Thanks, I think I have a good chance.” Wyll nodded. “Now that you're campaigning, how would you feel about attending an event? Octavia's fiance is a professor at Blackstaff Academy and he's hosting a party for some of the faculty. I think the academic community could be a good place to start rubbing elbows so to speak.” The Githyanki suggested. “I suppose it couldn't hurt.” Wyll replied with a soft smile. “Sure, why not?” “You have no idea how relieved I am that you agreed. I didn't want to go to another one of these things by myself.” Kroger grinned sheepishly, blushing a bit. “It's this weekend, I'll meet you at your place?” “Sounds great.” Wyll gently laid a hand on Kroger's thin shoulder. “Well, I look forward to it.” The Githyanki gently brushed his fingers against Wyll's hand, pausing a moment before the two parted. As Wyll smiled after Kroger, he noticed his phone buzzed with a notification. He pulled it from his pocket and opened it, scrolling through and clicking on the message he'd just received.

Message from: Sentry Ojeda 'Pretty speech, there, Ravengard...But can you back it up? I feel like this city's got a few more things to worry about right now.' Wyll's brow furrowed as he clicked on the name. Why was it familiar? Who was this guy? The link led to a profile page, an image of an attractive male tiefling around his own age, maybe just a little younger, greeted him. He was dressed in dark clothing and posing in a bedroom full of macabre sketches and paintings. There was nothing publicly available other than the profile image and a friends list, so Wyll proceeded to the friends list, looking for anyone he might know.

---- A few days later, Sentry was waiting in the back alley behind Sorcerous Sundries, his hood pulled low over his head, shadowing his face. He kept watching the street that led to the alleyway until finally, the figure he was waiting for approached. Nocturne also wore a fairly nondescript black hoodie, hiding her face in shadow. She approached slowly and silently, nodding to Sentry as the two tieflings began to assess their way in. “Do you think Rolan's home right now?” Nocturne asked. “I wouldn't want him to do anything stupid and get in the middle of this...” “Knowing him, he's out side hustling doing deliveries or something. He doesn't have on off switch, you know that.” Sentry replied with a shrug. “Hey, there we go. That drain pipe should get us close enough to the fire escape.” He pointed up and without waiting for Nocturne's reply, he jumped up onto the nearby dumpster and then to the drain pipe, sharp nails digging in for support as he began to shimmy up before leaping to the fire escape, pulling himself up with a bit of effort. “You know, not all of use went through your crazy paladin cross fit whatever training.” Nocturne rolled her eyes, but with a bit more effort, managed to follow Sentry, smiling gratefully when he gently helped her up onto the fire escape. The two tieflings scurried up the rest of the way, approaching the window to the apartment above the store. Each pressed to one side of the window, peeking towards it and listening in.

“Wrong again, how many times must I teach you this, boy!?” A voice neither of them recognized was shouting, followed by several percussive thuds. “I...I'm sorry, sir, I'll do better next time...I...” Neither of them had ever heard Rolan sound so nervous, so apologetic. “Fuck...we need to think of a plan...”Nocturne began, turning her head and wincing when she saw that Sentry was already kicking in the window. “Or....you can just steamroll, that works too..” The scene before them was tense, a large library with a hardwood floor, shelves of books, and cases of arcane trinkets and treasures all around. A tall, gangly red haired human stood in the center of the room dressed in red and silver. Rolan was sprawled a few feet away from him, bruised, burnt, and bleeding, staring in numb shock at his friends now standing in front of the broken window. “Hey asshole, that's our nerd! Back off him.” Sentry snapped.

Rolan cursed under his breath and it was hard to tell whether he looked away in embarrassment from his friends of from his employer. Neither Sentry nor Nocturne backed down though, both of them hurrying to put themselves between their friend and the human. Nocturne turned towards Rolan and knelt beside him. “Hey, so this is gonna be a little chilly at first, but it'll fix you up.” She assured him, laying her hands gently on either side of his face and whispering a few words. There was an icy, stinging prickle, after all, Loviatar's blessings had their own unique note to them, and the bruises began to face, the lacerations stitching themselves back together, and the burns cooling and fading. Rolan looked away and scoffed, but there was a gratefulness in his eyes underneath the annoyance. “Wow, I'd tell you to pick on someone your own size, but that might exclude me from beating the shit out of you, you absolute pencil neck twat.” Sentry sneered at Lorroakan. “I'm supposed to be frightened of a pair of obviously criminal tieflings breaking and entering? The Fist will have you locked up and beaten the moment they arrive.” The human scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah that's true...but what can I do to you in the mean time?” Sentry shot back, pacing back and forth, eyes never leaving the wizard. He noticed Lorroakan's eyes turning towards Nocturne and he snapped to attention, locking eyes with him as authority filled his voice, eyes glowing brightly. “Hey, eyes on me, fucker! I'm your problem right now.” Lorroakan's head snapped back towards Sentry, a look of surprise crossing his face at being cast on before he could notice it. His eyes narrowed and he snapped his fingers. “Fine. If you can't wait for The Fist, I'll simply dispatch you myself.”

From each corner of the room, an elemental spawned. From a collection of gems and stones, an elemental of solid rock, glinting in places with crystals. From a fan in the corner, a blustering air elemental, blowing papers about as it moved. From a tea pot on a side table, a water elemental, hissing and bubbling. Finally, from the fire place, a crackling fire elemental. “Well, shit...” Sentry winced. “I might actually need some help over here.” He glanced anxiously at his friends. “This is exactly why I told you everything was fine, I wanted you to stay out of it because you two always make something implode!” Rolan snapped. “Well excuse us for not wanting to see our friend abused by some hack who's half the spellcaster he is to begin with!” Nocturne shot back. “I...wait...you really think I'm more talented than Lorroakan?” Rolan paused a moment, a look of genuine surprise on his face as he looked at Nocturne as though searching for some sign she was lying. “Of course I do! We both do! You're the smartest guy we know...and anyway, now's the chance to prove my point.” Nocturne gently placed a hand on Rolan's shoulder and nodded towards their current predicament. “Yeah, okay, I think so too. Rolan's great, super powerful and stuff, now can you both please help me out here?” Sentry just barely deflected a roaring fireball as he spun around, his tail glowing with bright light as it cracked Lorroakan across the chest and threw him a few feet across the room. “In retrospect I should have brought a weapon...” Sentry wanted to look back to make sure his friends were faring alright, but he couldn't take his focus off his opponent, one little slip up and the wizard's focus would be free to move from him to anything else, including his companions. It was difficult to get in close to throw a punch with someone who could attack from range, and his tail only made up for distance so much. He tried to look for an environmental advantage, Gary had always taught him, if you can't fight well, fight dirty. There was the window they came in through, enough force could throw Lorroakan out and beyond the fire escape, and that was a fall he wasn't likely to survive. There was also the potentially of driving him into the fireplace somehow, but that ran the risk of causing the whole shop to go up and that would draw attention.

“Shit!” Sentry turned his head at Nocturne's exclamation and the sound of a crash and shatter. The tea pot had collapsed to the floor, breaking to pieces and when it did, the water elemental shuddered and vanished. Nocturne grinned. “Hey, that's good to know!” She eyed the fireplace and made a swift gesture, murmuring the words to a spell and water rained down, dousing the fire as the elemental disappeared as well. “He needed anchors to conjure those simple elementals?” Rolan scoffed, a look of absolute disgust and betrayal crossing his face. “And I really believed I was lucky to study under you!” He spat, turning towards the gems and aiming a spell, reducing them to dust in a single blow. Sentry was glad his friend seemed like himself again, but the happiness was short lived as a spell hit his chest, causing him to double over in pain, vomiting heavily. He coughed and sputtered, prone when another blow came, six bolts of arcane energy sending him skidding across the floor. “Damn....” He coughed, slowly scrambling to his feet as Nocturne finished smashing the fan and rushed over to his side. Lorroakan glared at Sentry, advancing towards him. “You've violated my sanctum, destroyed my things, and worst of all, wasted my valuable time. When I'm through with the two of you, they won't be able to identify your---” His words were cut off as he passed in front of the window and from the corner Rolan had been positioned in, a rolling wave of energy rumbled across the floor, sending the human flying backwards, his body colliding with the sturdy brick wall of the building across the street and then crashing to the ground, his spine snapped across metal pipe. The three tieflings rushed to the window to look out. Sentry whistled, impressed. Nocturne nodded her head. “Practically an art piece, I'd say.” Rolan paled and looked like he might be sick. “I....just killed someone.” “I mean, technically it was self defense?” Nocturne offered with a shrug. “I'm not saying he didn't deserve it! But this could be the end of my career, everything I've worked for. All the sleepless nights studying, everything he did to me...If I go to jail for this, it would all be fore nothing...” Rolan tensed, his body shaking a bit. Sentry gently placed a hand on Rolan's shoulder. “I have an idea. You go downstairs and pretend you were stocking the shop or something, Nocturne can clean up up here...I'll take care of everything.” He assured him with a gentle squeeze.

Rolan paused, studying Sentry's face. A million thoughts and worries ran through his head at once. This was Sentry, there was every chance he was going to cock it up somehow. Sentry who had never passed a class on his own in his life, Sentry who was the text book definition of failing upwards. But then again, he was a paladin, he knew what The Fist would be looking for. Besides, maybe he was being too harsh, Sentry and Nocturne had come to help him, after all, and they had been his friends for such a long time. “Alright...I trust you.” Sentry smiled and stood up, climbing out the window and down the fire escape. When he was sure Rolan had walked away and was headed back down to the shop, he looked around the alleyway, checking for any prying eyes. When he was satisfied, he dipped his fingers into Lorroakan's blood and began to draw a circle of twisting blood droplets around him. In the center, beneath where the body lay, a blood red skull. “Hey, Fel. I need your help.” He hissed. Rising up from the blood, his butler brushed himself off and shook out his hat before replacing it neatly atop his head. “My dear master, it is a genuine thrill to see you back to working on your still lifes...Ah...what can your humble butler do to assist?” “I need some parts harvested and then I need it to look like he was killed down here, preferably with Bhaalist weapons.” Sentry explained. “The way I see it, this happy little accident can kill two birds with one stone.” “Ah, but sadly with only one corpse to show for it.” Fel clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No matter. I know your dreadfulness will certainly find more prey before the day is out.” He patted Sentry's knee like an indulgent grandparent and set to work.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #tiefling #oc #dark urge #durge #writing #oc: sentry ojeda #fanfic #OC: Jaina Thalassia #OC: Kroger of Creche K'liir #karlach x wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #karlach x tav #karlach #karlach cliffgate #wyll x tav #wyll #tav #bg 3 #bg3 #rolan #bg3 rolan #bg3 nocturne #Nocturne #Modern AU

[lajulie24]

7, 23, 49 for the ask game!! 🥰

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

A few things! One was the backstory I came up with for Epic Love and what all had happened to get our heroes to where they were at the beginning of TFA. Why did it look like Han and Leia were apart and Luke was hiding out where nobody could find him? If I was trying to come up with a reason why they actually weren’t estranged but people still thought they were, what would that be? And what the hell was Luke doing on his lonely island? Once I brought protecting a younger Jaina into the picture as the reason, I then had fun coming up with a bunch of details that explained what the hell was going on in the movie. Why were Han and Chewie hauling rathtars? Why did Han keep giving Rey these weirdly meaningful looks, like he’d seen her before? Why did Han and Leia have such a strange conversation in the command center on D’Qar? How could everyone we saw on screen have thought Han died at Starkiller Base but then actually survived? And of course filling in some of the details about what had been the inciting incident, how Han and Leia kept in touch when they were supposedly apart, what all their friends thought was going on, why it was important for Luke (and Jaina) to come back now, and what was up with Finn (specifically that he was definitely Force-sensitive too).

Another one was in Tear Down the Walls — the fic was centered on New Year’s celebrations, so I enjoyed coming up with different traditions that might have been celebrated on Kashyyyk, on Alderaan, on Corellia to reference throughout the fic. I also enjoyed coming up with an Alderaanian holiday for Han to help Leia celebrate in Let Me Call You Sweetheart, and an Alderaanian holofilm and a Shryiiwook folk tale for The Book of the Lovers.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I’ve never written a time travel AU, but have been fascinated to read several, especially those involving Leia or Leia, Luke, and Han going back to the prequel timeframe and altering history a bit. I don’t know if I’ll ever write one — the ones I’ve read are so good but I could see myself definitely biting off more than I could chew trying to write one — but it is a concept that really interests me.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it?

Answered here!

Thank you so much for the ask!

Fanfic writer asks!

#ask lajulie #fanfic writer asks #favorite worldbuilding #TBR tropes AUs concepts #current WIPs #organanation #thank you for the ask!