#pleasant hill: quiet council

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

With some of their own abducted by S.H.I.E.L.D. and assimilated into Pleasant Hill, the Quiet Council of Krakoa met for an emergency meeting to discuss how to proceed. Although they came to a solution, it turned out to be rather unconventional and paved the way for conflict in the future.

THIS IS OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

EMMA FROST/WHITE QUEEN (616): Unacceptable. It was simply unacceptable. There was no way around it. Some offenses were excusable and others were absolutely not.This? This was not. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been disrespectful more times than anyone could count in the past. They had lied and betrayed and done just about every other offense, but straight up kidnapping and brainwashing on a scale that warped reality was a new one. The former White Queen was far from impressed. White gloves covered the hand that propped Emma’s head up. She watched the proceedings with disinterested eyes before straightening when the group fell silent. “They have my daughter.” Her voice cut across the chamber. “My daughter. Your friends, your loved ones. Gone. Even the ones we’ve reclaimed still aren’t ours. Are we to take this laying down or we will finally act?”

KATE PRYDE/RED QUEEN (616): "We should've stormed the gates a long time ago." Kate glances up from where she's picked her cuticles raw. "I'm tired of meetings, aren't you?"

SCOTT SUMMERS/CYCLOPS (616): Scott takes in the room around him; goes from chewing one side of his cheek to the other. He'd not technically a chair on this council -- that was a decision he'd made years ago. But Jean is gone. Naturally, he is the one to take her place. "While I'm more than aware our people need to be rescued, we can't go in with some half baked plan and not expect to end up just like them. Any got any ideas?"

ORORO MUNRO/STORM (616): The Council sits fractured. Hope is gone, lost to Pleasant Hill. Irene has been recovered but is not herself. Sinister is -- well, Nathaniel is something else entirely that they don’t have time to get into. Shaw has declined to attend. Ororo herself sees the cracks where they should have been unified and they concern her. She isn’t scared, but she isn’t pleased. “Half baked plan like the last time.” She points out. “The time when we let Natasha Romanoff lead a charge into the town, resulting not only in gunfire but explosions as well.” That’s aimed at the blue skinned mutant who sits across the way. “I believe we take matters into our own hands now.” That’s why she’s invited Erik to sit in, in part. He’s a man of action, and that’s what they need.

CHARLES XAVIER/PROFESSOR X (616): “Judging by how dreadful everyone looks, I’m not to keen to believe it won’t just be half baked plan part two,” Charles shook his head, one hand reaching up to swipe at his brow from beneath the helmet before folding his arms in disdain, “This conversation isn’t exactly instilling confidence.”

KATE PRYDE (616): "You're doing a whole lot of blabbing without any contribution, Charles." Kate snaps, sliding further down in her chair. She remembers a time when that man basically walked on water and then turned it into wine in Kate's eyes. And then there was Krakoa. And then there was quite literal death. Her patience is thin at best. "What if we just wage war against SHIELD? I feel like we could make it stick this time."

RAVEN DARKHOLME/MYSTIQUE (616): Irene was gone. Irene was gone. They had taken her. From right under Raven’s goddamn nose, her wife had been kidnapped. Some would consider her resulting actions to be extreme. Shooting the ( LMD ) of Maria, attempting to blow up the town. They weren’t extreme. They were necessary. Even now with Irene back in their home, it wasn’t the same. Her wife had been warped into a stranger who, although had eyes that could see, was blind to reality. “When I suggest waging war it’s frowned upon.” Raven’s tone remains low. “But perhaps it’s more palatable if coming from Katherine.” Everyone at the table must know that there’s nothing that can stop her from righting this. She doesn’t care about Jean or Hope or Esme. It’s about fixing Irene now. “We shouldn’t be focused on breaking out those we’ve left behind, but healing those we have.”

EMMA FROST (616): “Maybe that comes from the fact that Katherine hasn’t proven herself to be rash and illogical.” Emma flashes pointed teeth. “She thinks through her actions and presents them to the people she’s working with instead of flying off the handle.” Is Emma bitter that Irene got Hope and Logan got Jean but Esme remains? Of course she is. Emma is nothing if not petty. “Just a thought, darling.”

CHARLES XAVIER (616): Charles scoffed audibly at Raven’s declaration before standing up out of his chair and leaning in her direction, palms on the table, “What, and leave the rest of them to rot?”

RAVEN DARKHOLME (616): A shoulder shrugs. “You win some, you lose some.”

KURT WAGNER/NIGHTCRAWLER (616): “Fighting amongst ourselves is not going to bring our friends back.” Kurt finally spoke up from his seat next to Storm, eyeing Kate sympathetically. It wasn’t as if he wanted to call her out, but the bickering wouldn’t help anyone. The Council needed to be united on this. Raven was more than distraught over Irene’s capture, which meant that Kurt was distraught. Seeing his mother in such pain… Something had to be done. But war? That didn’t feel like the answer either. “Is that even possible? Their reality has been altered.” Unless they just killed the lot of them and resurrected everyone. But without Hope the process was sure to be tedious.

KATE PRYDE (616): Kate tries to hide her grimace. She can't. "This is more than just about rescuing our people." Her voice is quieter now, as if she's testing our her thoughts before committing to them. "This is about making sure this can never happen again."

ORORO MUNRO (616): “We must think about what we are saying here.” The words are a gentle warning directed at Kate -- a woman Ororo dearly loves. “If we attempt to wage war with S.H.I.E..D., we do not know how they will retaliate. This is them unprovoked.”

BENNET DU PARIS/EXODUS (616): "Ah, now there's an idea." Bennet smirked, hearing Kurt's last thoughts. He looked to the blue mutant before speaking, but didn't plan on giving away who it was that truly came up with the plan he was about to expose. "Rescuing everyone from the town might be a fruitless endeavor. We need to be thinking outside the box, don't you think? We wouldn't need to save them all if they were all dead. Then we could simply resurrect them here, safe and sound. And of course, it would be helpful to have Hope first. But it could work."

KATE PRYDE (616): "Are you fucking insane?" This time, her voice is not anywhere near quiet.

CHARLES XAVIER (616): Seated again, Charles removed his helmet slowly, revealing a horrified and disappointed expression hiding beneath, “Yes, because that’s more logical than waging war against S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Charles eyed the pink man from across the table, “Honestly, Bennet it’s insulting to even suggest—” Charles trailed off, eyeing Kurt as well. He was well aware of where the thought had originated. Kurt at least had the decency to keep it to himself.

EMMA FROST (616): “I’ve heard worse ideas,” the blonde muses. “An exception to harm no man isn’t unheard of. It’s not as if we’re killing the people we know and love.” She can’t help but slide her gaze to where Scott sits as a silent sentinel. It’s then she see Charles’ expression and something curls in her stomach. “Oh, Charles. Now you pretend to have morals and a conscious?”

KURT WAGNER (616): Yellow eyes widened slightly at Exodus’ words as he started to speak Kurt’s thoughts aloud, and then Kate spoke up and he just shook his head softly. It was an… outlandish idea, but that was why he hadn’t voiced it. His eyes drifted towards Charles as the Professor took his helmet off and he couldn’t help but to bow his head in shame. “We don’t even know if resurrection will work if their reality has been completely rewritten.” His voice was quiet.

KATE PRYDE (616): She wishes she could kick Emma's perfectly groomed calf under the table. "You want to take that chance? Listen, not that I'm the expert on this or anything, but sometimes we don't come back. Do you want to take that chance with what's left of us?"

RAVEN DARKHOLME (616): “You will not touch my wife!” Her voice raises, tone lined with steel. It was nearly impossible to get Irene back the last time. Raven will not toil in the dark again, alone and cold as she’s been her entire life. She will fight tooth and nail to keep Irene safe, even if it means diverging from the Council.

CHARLES XAVIER (616): “We’re all well aware that’s a foreign concept to you, Emma,” Charles shook his head, tone resolute.

EMMA FROST (616): A smile crosses her face, cold and removed. “Oh, darling,” she all but sighs. “Words are weapons, and I would watch yours.” She knows too much about him, too much about Erik. Emma knows how and why Krakoa was formed, and with that all their dirty little secrets. “We could always begin with one and see how it goes.”

MAX EISENHARD/MAGNETO (616): "Start with one." Max almost laughed, but didn't. It was a ridiculous thing they were proposing, but it also could be their best option. "And who do we propose should be the one to die?"

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "I think that's obvious." Scott speaks up. "We start with the one that matters most."

BENNET DU PARIS (616): "Yes. Hope. I thought that would have been an obvious choice." Exodus stood up to speak this time, leaning forward with his palms flat against the table. "And while a war against SHIELD could have been quite interesting, if we wanted to get this done quickly we could easily have someone teleport in and retrieve her." He looked to Kurt again.

EMMA FROST (616): Emma points a gloved finger at him. “As hurtful as it is to hear, I concur.” She has four other daughters to think of. She doesn’t want Esme to be the guinea pig. Let it be Cable’s little trash goblin. “We can always go to war after, I suppose.”

KATE PRYDE (616): "So we murder Hope." Kate is now slouched down against the table, her chin resting in her hand. She's drawing nonsensical lines into the flat top.  "Quite hilarious when taken literally."

RAVEN DARKHOLME (616): Raven is seething, but Kate’s words elicit a small smile. “It used to be hard to kill an Omega level mutant. Now, it’s common place. We’ve lost all the fun, I fear.”

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "Can you do it?" Scott is now angled towards Kurt. He doesn't bother asking Kurt if he wants to. There is no room for wants.

BENNET DU PARIS (616): "No one can ever truly kill the Messiah. She will always rise again." He aimed his comment at Kate, his tone very serious.

KATE PRYDE (616): "Oh bite me, pink face."

EMMA FROST (616): There’s an audible groan at that. “Just fetch the girl and kill her already.”

MAX EISENHARDT (616): "So this is what I've been missing." Max mumbled to himself with a small shake of his head.

ORORO MUNROE (616): Ororo can barely believe what she’s hearing, but she makes no motion to stop it. The terrible feeling in her gut is confirming that they may have no other choice. She just watches with light eyes and her fingers tightly knotted together.

KURT WAGNER (616): Scheisse. They were all looking at him now.  Of course they were looking at him, it was the most logical choice, teleport to Pleasant Hill, grab Hope, or whoever she was right now, bring her back. Easy enough. This entire plan was insane, but leave it to Exodus to do whatever it took to save the Messiah. Standing up from his chair and clearing his throat, he took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes at Emma. “I’m not going to be the one to kill her, just so you all know.” That was a given, but it felt like Kurt needed to say it anyways. Taking a deep breath, he paused and closed his eyes, envisioning the green grass and friendly aura of the Connecticut town that he’d visited once before, and then bamf. Purple smoke lingered in the air for a few moments in before Kurt returned with a smaller figured blonde girl thrown over his shoulder, who was clearly losing it as she screamed and swatted at his tail in an attempt to get down. He dropped her in front of him, making sure she was steady on her feet as he held his hands out. “Well, this has gone just as poorly as I expected.”

KATE PRYDE (616): Kate contemplates. And she contemplates. Her brow knits, smooths out, knits again. If anyone is speaking, she doesn't hear it. Then, suddenly, she stands. Her long coat rustles behind her; she readjusts the leather on her shoulders. "I will not be a part of this." She glances to Emma briefly. There is no surprise in her gaze; Emma didn't earn her spot playing nicely. "You can all sit witness to the literal murder of mutantkind as if resurrection is just some factory we can toss people into and then they come out fresh and new on the other side. I won't. I absolutely fucking refuse." And in a sweep of red, Kate is gone.

EMMA FROST (616): “Quiet.” The word rings out both verbally and telepathically. The eyes of the flailing blonde briefly flash white before she falls limp in Kurt’s arms. Kate leaves then, red coat billowing behind her. She and Emma will always be fundamentally different in some ways. Emma will do what it takes. This is not a childs game and she intends on always being one of the deadliest players. Her gaze falls on Exodus. “She’s your Messiah, isn’t she?”

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "Someone should alert the rest of the Five." He directs his attention to Ororo. She is both complacent and uncomfortable, neither make for quick action. "Sorry Kurt. Can you go?"

KURT WAGNER (616): Kurt sighed softly as Emma telepathically calmed Not Hope down, his arms holding her up so she didn’t fall onto the ground before he slowly laid her into one of the Council chairs. This was getting to be very serious, and suddenly he was realizing the gravity of what they were about to do. The fundamental law of Krakoa that they were breaking. It made him sick to his stomach, but thankfully Scott caught his attention and he quickly nodded as he exited the chamber, heading towards Arbor Magna.

BENNET DU PARIS (616): Bennet nodded. "Yes. I should be the one to end this life of hers. So that she can be reborn again. It is a great honor." He walked over to the unrecognizable Hope that Kurt had brought back with him, and gently took her face in both of his hands. "This will not hurt, I promise you. We will see you again soon, Messiah." Hope hated when he called her that, and he knew it. But it felt fitting for the moment. After a moment he took in a breath and then telekinetically snapped her neck. It was over in an instant, and when she went limp he gently lowered her body to the ground.

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): They were really doing this. Scott stands on surprisingly stable legs and meets Bennet on the adjacent side. Under any other circumstances, he would be quipping right now (he most certainly would not). "Do you mind." he shifts to nudge Bennet out of the way and gently picks the body up from behind the shoulders and the back of the knees. They have a place to dispose of them; he'll meet the rest of them after.

EMMA FROST (616): Harm no man. That’s the law, isn’t it? Harm no man, and yet, they have. They had killed one of their own in the chambers that Hope ruled over. Emma chooses to believe that this is worth it. For the cause, for the children. She watches blankly as Scott removes the corpse from the chambers. It’s easiest to be impassive right now. It’s with the others that she rises to move towards the Arbor Magna where they will wait for the four to resurrect Hope. “Ethically, we’re all rather fucked, aren’t we?” The crassness of her language harkens back to her Bostonian beginnings. “The people won’t be happy if they ever find out.” The Hope they killed has done nothing wrong other than being a victim of S.H.I.E.L.D. Instead of fighting to save her, they’ve killed her. “The optics are absolutely dreadful.”

CHARLES XAVIER (616): Charles didn’t even have any words for the scene in front of him. Hope Summers, dead in the Council Chambers. And by the hands of her own mutantkind at that. It was against everything Charles stood for and yet, he didn’t stop them. S.H.I.E.L.D. had overstepped and taken innocent mutants away from their homes. Kidnapped and brainwashed them to be complacent prisoners, and that couldn’t go unpunished. But this? He moved sullenly behind the others to the Arbor Magna as he stood behind Emma and shook his head. “No, they won’t. But it’s been done. Now, we focus on getting them back, if this works.” And God, he hoped it did.

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "The people don't need to know." Scott responds smoothly. "Not the details, anyway. We'll figure out how to spin this." He sounds confident, sure of himself. He isn't quite sure what exists beneath the bravado, a complicated cast of emotion he doesn't extrapolate on.

ORORO MUNRO (616): They’re watching Hope bake, more or less. Her form is growing inside of the husk as the Four work frantically to resurrect. Ororo’s gaze wants to soften but remains hard. “We have done something we can never take back.” Has she already been this tired? It fees as if she has been forever.

EMMA FROST (616): There’s an indignant huff. “Because we know all about spinning things, don’t we?”

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "We have done what is necessary." He ignores Emma, arms tight across his chest. They stand in silence for a stretch of time, watching with a tired impatience that has Scott standing completely rigid, lest he start pacing around. The four work, quietly, privately. Though they can be witnessed, they seem to form a cocoon around themselves, blocking out the rest of the world around them. And then it fades and Scott notices that the sound seems to be returning, the air seems to settle normally again. The four step aside.

HOPE SUMMERS (616): At first, there is darkness. It is nothingness; it is just floating in a void. She has no name or sense of being. She just is -- and she isn’t. There’s a moment when consciousness kicks in and her body stretches outwards. It causes her to reach out until her hands finds something hard. Pushing against it, she break into the air as her chest constricts so lungfuls of oxygen can be inhaled. She crawls then out with the orange clumped to her skin, bare and fresh. Green eyes fall on the group that stands above her, mind blank and unknowing.

CHARLES XAVIER (616): Charles steps forward then, this process that once brought him a sense of fulfilment now tainted with a pit in his stomach as he reaches forward and places a gloved hand underneath her chin, and then onto her forehead as he presses his lips into a sad smile. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to telepathically link the husk to the last scan of Hope’s from before Pleasant Hill, and then Charles lowered his hand. “Welcome back, Hope.”

BENNET DU PARIS (616): "She has risen!" Bennet announced, arms raised high into the air.

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): Scott shrugs out of his coat and approaches from the side, slinging it over Hope's body to give her some much needed cover. He's looking at Bennet as he does this, as Bennet shouts some stupid fucking line that makes him consider sending a little plasma beam at him. "Let's give her a second to adjust before you blow her hearing, yeah?"

HOPE SUMMERS (616): It all comes back at once. She’s Hope Summers: Omega level mutant and member of the Five. She servers on the Quiet Council of Krakoa and was once believed to be the mutant Messiah. Some still believe she’s one, if Exodus is any indication. “I’m fine.” Hope pulls the jacket around her tighter. It’s thankfully big enough to cover everything, and she climbs to her feet. “What the hell happened?”

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "S.H.I.E.L.D. happened. How much do you remember?"

HOPE SUMMERS (616): Her mind is wracked to no avail. “Uh -- nothing. I was in the Arbor Magna with the Five. Why? How outdated is my last back-up?” Something bad has to have happened. Eva moves to hug her, and Hope squeezes her friend back before turning furrowed brows to her colleagues on the Council.

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): Scott takes a measured breath. Most of the council still stands around them -- only Kate has gone and not returned. He explains, in short detail, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s project. The mutants still trapped inside. At the end, he considers how honest he should be. He ends up telling her their plan to resurrect them all. "Any questions?"

HOPE SUMMERS (616): “You guys are fucking insane.” She scoffs. “But this is war. They declared war. If this is what being on the defensive means, then we don’t have a choice. I want to make a motion to the Council.”

CHARLES XAVIER (616): “A motion?” Charles inquired.

HOPE SUMMERS (616): “A motion that we consider this an act of war. We shouldn’t have to play defense. If my dad taught me anything, it’s that offense counts. We need to push back.”

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): Scott looks over in Emma's direction and mouths: her dad?

EMMA FROST (616): Your son, you insufferable fool.

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): He rolls his eyes and gives her the subtle finger.

KURT WAGNER (616): Kurt straightened behind everyone, guilt weighing on his chest as he stared at Hope while she officially declared war. He had been the one to suggest this violence in the first place. Maybe not outright, but the sins were committed regardless. He decided to move past the war comment, deciding that there was other important matters to bring up before they pushed for something so drastic. “We can’t handle bringing everyone back to Krakoa at once. The town is too guarded. If we are to do this, we should bring Jean and Destiny back first and send a team in to get the others separately.”

RAVEN DARKHOLME (616): “You’re not touching my wife.” It’s with a heavy heart that Raven will deal with it alone. She’ll apologize to Irene when she’s back in her arms. Glancing to her son, Raven watches her fellow blue skinned mutant warily. “I agree with Hope. We reclaim our mutants, we return them to their senses and then we strike back.”

ORORO MUNRO (616): “I agree with Hope’s motion.” Ororo finds her voice. People may think her a pacifist, but she’s not. She’s worn the skin of a vengeful goddess more often than not as of late. “We will do as we must.”

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): "You don't get to make that call." Scott is back to his rigidity. "Get them. Bring them here. We'll do it here." He's talking to Kurt again. As soon as he's gone, Scott shifts his gaze to Exodus.

BENNET DU PARIS (616): Exodus gave Scott a nod, teleported himself next to Raven. She fought him, but once he was able to get a grip on her he teleported them both away. It just needed to be done.

SCOTT SUMMERS (616): The cave is quiet, like it's holding its breath. In a sudden pop of sound, Kurt unceremoniously drops two women onto the cave floor. They're scrambling, immediately kicking up dirt and dust as they panic crawl towards the wall. Away from the cluster of them. In a moment they both seize and fall quiet, subdued. They're really doing this, Scott thinks again. He's really going to do this. He approaches Jean, she's look up at him,  glassy eyed and quiet. He moves with no haste; carefully lowers himself into a crouch. He does not recognize this face, this body, but he still runs his fingers through her hair to the back of her neck and pauses. In the next moment, there is a resounding crack of bone breaking and the body slumps to the floor.

EMMA FROST (616): Emma steels her jaw as it goes down. She does not flinch at the sound of bone cracking as Jean is executed, nor do any tears well in her eyes. All eyes then move to Erik and what used to be Irene.

KURT WAGNER (616): As Kurt phases back into the Hatchery, yellow eyes quickly scan the room for Raven, since she wanted to be the one to handle Destiny. But the other blue-skinned mutant was nowhere to be found. “Where is my mother?” He asks sternly, watching as Emma sets her gaze onto Max. “Raven, where is she?”

ORORO MUNRO (616): “She is gone, Kurt.” Ororo speaks gently. “Exodus removed her from the room. They thought she would be a... liability. She will be allowed back in when it is done.”

MAX EISENHARDT (616): Just as Scott approaches Jean, Max approaches the unfamiliar face of Irene. While he did know that this method would get them back, and it would be fast, it wasn't something that he was happy about doing. But, even though time has softened him, Magneto would always step up and do what was needed. This, unfortunately, was needed. He didn't say anything to Irene, even though part of him wanted to apologize. He simply mirrored Scott, and quickly snapped her neck. After lowering her body to the floor, he stood up and looked around the room. "It's done. Let's move on."

JEAN GREY (616): She’s been resurrected before. Jean knows how it goes, and yet, it still feels unfamiliar as she slides from the husk and into herself. Once her memory is intact once more, Jean wraps her arms around herself to cover her body.  “I had a nightmare like this once.”

KURT WAGNER (616): “Gone?” Kurt repeats the word, blue brows furrowing as be just shakes her head at that. “No, that… This is wrong. She needs to be here for this. After everything the two of them have been through, she..” Trailing off, he just grimaced as Max stepped forwards towards the Pleasant Hill resident that was formerly Irene. He’d wanted to step out before it was done, but his feet wouldn’t move from their spot on the floor as he just stared blankly at the floor, jaw clenching. Even if he wanted to leave and go find his mother, Irene was being resurrected. Someone needed to be there for her.

HOPE SUMMERS (616): She’s impatient now that Jean and Irene are back. “Can we take a vote now?” Hope asks. When the others agree the voting commences. It’s six yes, three no and three abstained. The motion passes. To war they’ll go.

#mvmevents #event: pleasant hill #pleasant hill: quiet council #chatlog: quiet council

[er-osion]

Flower Crowns

pairing: Legolas x gn!Reader

summary: Legolas and reader are enjoying a calm moment on the journey to Mordor, reader makes a flower crown for Legolas and the elf must bear the teasing of his friend [‘Y/n’ used]

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, fluff

∾∾∘⋅∗⋄⋆⋄∗⋅∘∾∾

You and Legolas sat in a meadow a few paces from where the Fellowship had set up camp. The sunlight was warm and wrapped around the two of you like a blanket. The green grass was soft and dotted with bright flowers all across the rolling hills. Very few were the times when the Fellowship was able to sit back and take a moment to breath and rest on the journey to Mordor. The hours of sun were spent walking, and occasionally running, on the track to Mount Doom. The majority of your moments of rest were at night, when it was time to sleep. But sleep was not the same as resting during the day. Thus, you and Legolas were very thankful for this short moment you got to spend calmly in the sun.

You look over at Legolas, who sat close to you. The blonde elf was gazing out across the meadow without much focus, mind surely wandering somewhere else. There was a ghost of a smile on his pale pink lips. The question of how soft his lips must feel suddenly popped into your head and you had to look away in embarrassment at the thought. You had met the elf prince at the Council of Elrond, and for the duration of the journey this far, you’d grown closer. Legolas was definitely the member of the Fellowship you spent the most time with. You deeply enjoyed the conversations you two had, but you equally enjoyed the ability to have comfortable silence with him. In all honesty, you’re starting to think you might be crushing on the Woodland prince. You’re not sure how to make any advances— or if you even should— but you know you want to spend more time with Legolas, and you know you want to be closer. And so here you are, sitting only inches apart from the elf, sharing a comfortable silence under the golden light of the sun. You’re looking at your surroundings and taking in the many wildflowers around you, when suddenly an idea strikes. You begin gathering a bouquet of these flowers with long stems to serve your plan.

Legolas noticed the sudden movement from his side. His attention was pulled from the beauty of the nature around him to the beauty of you. He cocked his head in confusion at your gathering of flowers, but said nothing and watched as you collected the colorful sprouts. Legolas watched softly as you settled back into your spot next to him, and he took your moment of distraction as a chance to inch a little closer to you.

“What are you doing, mellon nin?” Legolas asked curiously as he eyed your collection of wildflowers.

“You will have to see, mellon nin.” You replied coyly. Legolas let out a quiet chuckle at your response. But he did indeed watch as you began making something out of the flowers. Legolas watched, entranced, by how your fingers expertly braided the stems to connect each flower in your pile. You worked in silence, concentrating on not breaking the stems or the band of flowers that was becoming your crown. While you focused on your craft, Legolas focused on you. He admired your expression as you concentrated on the task at hand, your features were pleasant to say the least. He felt a little guilty, friends should not be having these thoughts of each other. Friends should not be admiring one another in a way that is more than platonic, yet here he is. Greedily, Legolas basks in your presence and he can’t tell if it’s the afternoon sun or your company that’s making him feel warm. He’s not sure what the stirring inside his stomach is, or the fluttering in his chest, but he’s become aware of the fact he’s only subject to such things when he’s around you.

It took you a few minutes, but eventually you finished your flower crown to much satisfaction. The bright colors popped under the sunlight, and it seemed fit for one of the fairies your mother used to tell you stories about. You smiled happily at your work. Legolas now was able to conclude what your project had been.

“It’s lovely. I did not know you were able to make such fine things out of flowers.” Legolas said with unfiltered admiration.

“Well then, now you know. My talents do not lie only in combat, I have many other skills as well.” You replied with a proud smirk, finally meeting his glowing eyes.

“I envy your craftsmanship.”

“Do you not know how to make flower crowns, Legolas?”

“I’m embarrassed to admit, I do not. It’s ironic—now that I think about it— that a Woodland prince does not know how to make a crown out of flowers.” Legolas looked down at his fingers and picked softly at the skin. “But yours is truly beautiful.”

A bold idea suddenly popped into your head, and a devious smile spread on your lips. You turned suddenly to face Legolas and then gently set your flower crown atop his head. The bright flowers lay perfectly on his silky golden hair. Your breath stuttered as you looked at the ellon, he truly seemed to be something out of a fairytale.

“There, a beautiful crown befitting a beautiful prince.” You meant to say that more as a tease, but your tone ended up a little too sincere than you’d wanted. Legolas’s eyes widened in shock at your forward comment and rose coloring began to dust his sharp cheeks. He opened his mouth to quip something back but shut it after failing to come up with a response and quickly averted eye contact with evident embarrassment.

“I-” Legolas cleared his throat and tried to start saying something but was interrupted when Aragorn’s approaching voice rang throughout your clearing.

“Pretty crown, Legolas. Though, I wasn’t aware it was custom for Mirkwood elves to bring their tiaras with them on life threatening journeys.” Aragorn walked up to stand in front of you and Legolas, wearing a teasing smirk and a raised eyebrow. Legolas let out a dry laugh and rolled his eyes while Aragorn continued, turning to you. “I take it you made this, Y/n.”

“You couldn’t tell by its outstanding appearance?” You responded sarcastically with a grin to match the ranger’s.

“I could tell by the fact that our favorite elven prince is wearing something only you could convince him to wear.” You began to laugh at Aragorn’s comment but then picked up on the underlying seriousness of his statement. There was something in your friend’s tone that was a little too genuine and it made your laugh die out rather fast in your throat. Thankfully you were saved from an awkward silence when you heard Merry and Pippin calling for you from the camp.

“Y/N!! Y/NNN! C’mere!! We need you to settle something, we need your help!!” You heard a loud rustling from where they were and then more shouting and you easily assumed the two hobbits were now roughhousing. You chuckled under your breath and began to get up from your comfortable spot in the grass. Legolas watched you get up with a saddened look that you didn’t notice.

“Apologies, it seems I’m needed elsewhere.” You turned and took your leave, heading back toward the camp to help Merry and Pippin settle their dispute.

Aragorn and Legolas watched you leave, and the elf’s longing gaze did not go unnoticed by the ranger. The Dunédain had the tack to wait until you had disappeared from sight before commenting on his friend’s apparent more-than-platonic watch over you.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” Aragorn said slyly, walking closer to his friend.

“It’s a nice day.” Legolas deflected with a growing blush.

“A very nice day for you, considering how close you were sitting next to Y/n.”

“Oh, shut it. Don’t you have hobbits to be fretting over?”

“Don’t you have a friend who makes flower crowns for you to be fretting over?”

“It was a one off thing, you’re making a bigger deal out of it than it is. And correct your tone, Y/n is a friend, nothing more.”

“Oh, and friends often make each other flower crowns and gaze at one another longingly?”

“Aragornnn.” Legolas groaned in exasperation and got up from his sitting position, being careful to keep the flower crown from falling off his head. He would be incredibly sad if something were to happen to the crown. Aragorn chuckled under his breath and walked beside Legolas as they began trekking back toward camp.

“Maybe you’ll just have to learn how to make flower crowns as well, so you can return the favor.” Aragorn suggested with a hint of playfulness.

“…I think, after all of this is done, I’ll give Y/n a far more substantial crown.” Legolas muttered with a small self-satisfied smile. The ranger’s eyebrows raised in surprise at his friend’s confidence, but internally he looked forward to seeing such a day take place.

∾∾∘⋅∗⋄⋆⋄∗⋅∘∾∾

sindarin translations:

mellon nin - my friend

#legolas x reader #lotr #the lord of the rings #legolas #legolas x you #x reader #x you #lotr fluff #lotr fanfic #legolas imagine #legolas thranduilion

[thexdesk]

THE PREAMBLE:

The minutes from the Quiet Council of Krakoa’s meeting as explained by Mister Sinister.

 This meeting was called to take a vote. After several high profile mutants were kidnapped and absorbed into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Pleasant Hill, the Council made a wartime decision to execute the reality warped victims and resurrect them as whole beings once more. This was done without an official vote. Word has officially leaked to both Krakoa and the Avengers, neither of which are happy. Now, a new problem presents itself. The mutants who weren’t saved are now trapped under a faulty spell by the Scarlet Witch and Wiccan that has returned them to themselves but left their Pleasant Hill counterparts in their heads. The Council must now decide if they will once again execute and resurrect, or if they will have to find another way to fix things.

The following come from the private journal of Nathaniel Essex, the mutant known as Mister Sinister. These private musings are indicative of his personal views. They also seem to imply that Essex is working on some other plot, but no other journal entries have been recovered.

THE PROCEEDINGS:

It seems everyone was quite naughty in my absence. It figures, of course, that the meeting I missed would be the one where they finally reveal their bloodlust. Oh, Quiet Council. You dirty, corrupt thing you. How bad you’ve been. But alas, the Council sits whole again with the exception of Storm. Her hands are in so many pots that I hope she won’t see my true designations until it’s too late. In any case, she refuses a back-up. If she happened to eat it (oopsies!) there will be no resurrections for the so called goddess. This is very good.

Back to the matters at hand.

The Council’s little transgression has been revealed to the world. The snapped necks of Jean Grey, Hope Summers and darling Destiny may have solved the problem in the moment but now have created a larger one. Harm no man. A ridiculous rule, really. Man has harmed man since before Cain offed Able. But no, no. Krakoa is oh so very good until it has an excuse to not be. It’s almost commendable how gray the moral center of Krakoa is.

Today, the Council takes an “official”  vote on if the murder spree can continue. At least four mutants have returned from that little town corrupted. Shall we snap their necks as well and give them a good ol’ resurrection? The proceeding are as messy as always.

The Question: should we stick with the tried and true method of snapping necks and resurrecting the poor souls? 

The responses are as follows:

Charles Xavier unsurprisingly says no. There’s much he’ll do for his nation, but I believe the word “optics” comes up. Oh, Chuck. Still operating under the guise of a man with morals.

Vote: 1 against, 0 in favor.

Hope Summers votes yes. It happened to her and she lived through it, pun intended. She’s a true thorn in my side. If my plans are to come into fruition (they’re secret, so don’t ask what they are yet), then I’ll have to dispatch her first — and quickly. I’ll have to get rid of her religious nut of a guard dog as well. 

He — Exodus — votes yes as well, by the way. Considering Hope’s vote, that’s unsurprising. 

Vote: 1 against, 2 in favor.

Nightcrawler and Colossus are as unshakably upstanding as always and vote no. Kurt is a man of a God (a God that’s not real, mind you) and has morals. Colossus is being mind controlled by the Russians — but we don’t know that yet. For Nightcrawler, it’s more than “optics”. It’s morality. The Council has a duty to people to act with the upmost sense of justice. Honestly, the entire spiel is rather long and self indulgent. I’m not sure where he gets it considering the fact that his mother is so amoral. It’s clearly not genetic. Considering the fact that Storm is on Arakko, her vote is forfeited. That means the Summer faction of the Quiet Council is in agreement.

Vote: 3 against, 2 in favor.

We turn now to the Winter faction, where yours truly sits. I have been in close conference with my dear old acquaintances, Destiny and Mystique. As always, Irene says the same thing: if we are to win, we must work together. She’s a tricky little precog. Working together is not always what it seems, though. I know what she’s told me in cryptic words. I cast my vote:

Mister Sinister votes no. This is the only way, apparently. I trust no one but I will not be caught playing the fool. Not when I have so much I need to accomplish. That’s why it’s a surprise when Destiny casts her vote.

Destiny votes yes. That little snake. I can’t see her face behind that damned gold face plate, but her head tips to the side. I know what that means. Hold the course. 

Mystique votes yes. She would have even if her wife hadn’t. Raven’s always been incredibly trigger happy. With my dissenting, the Winter faction stands divided.

Vote: 4 against, 4 in favor.

The final decision will be decided in the Spring faction where the Hellfire Trading Company rules supreme. If there’s anyone to finalize the vote, I would have preferred it not to be them. Shaw drinks and it’s only 9 am. Ariel-Sprite-Kitty-Kate is as self-righteous as Kurt is. And Emma? What is there to say about Emma Frost that has not been said already? She is a Frost through and through: ruthless, selfish, cold. Her predictable nature will no doubt be shown in her vote.

Kate Pryde votes no. She has to speak about it, of course. Krakoa wasn’t forged as an independent nation so we could murder with impunity. Impunity. Someone clearly did well on her vocabulary test. The poor dear has eighteen failed resurrections. Perhaps one can’t blame her for being hesitant when it comes to using it as a solution, but I think her reluctance may be a sign of a bigger weakness overall.

Vote: 5 against, 4 in favor.

Sebastian Shaw votes yes. Again, unsurprising. He makes a point to note that people die all the time. With his vote, the motion is tied. The White Queen will end the tie breaker and we’ll continue to snap the necks of... Oh? But what is this?

Vote: 5 against, 5 in favor.

Emma Frost votes no. What is this? A no? Her own daughter is among those suffering, but she stands in opposition? This — this — is a surprise. I spy with my little black eye Destiny nod at her from across the chambers. It would seem Irene’s voice is in more than just my ear. The White Queen provides little reasoning and the vote ends.

Vote: 6 against, 5 in favor. The Vote is over. The motion has failed.

I’ll spare you, reader, the rest. The Council continues the session before dispersing. Oh, how badly I’d like to know what Destiny has told the White Queen or what’s been promised. I doubt Emma will tell me, that shrewd bitch. I’ll have to wait, just like I must for many other things. The Council has reached a decision that leaves some unhappy. I wonder how unhappy they’ll be when my dominos fall into place soon. I wonder how proud they’ll be when I bring them to their knees. Yes, I wonder.

But that’s for another time, isn’t it?

#quiet council #quiet council transcript #sinister #sins of sinister

[themainframes]

For a full list of residents, please see the PLEASANT HILL DIRECTORY.

REASON FOR APPREHENSION: DESTABILIZATION

PH-RES-030 (EARTH-616) was recommended by S.H.I.E..D. for destabilization purposes to distract the nation of KRAKOA’s QUIET COUNCIL while also weakening the resurrection group known as the FIVE.

APPREHENSION STATUS: SECURED

PH-RES-030 responded to a call from S.H.I.E.L.D. before being restrained with an inhibitor collar and sedated. Like PH-RES-031, the resident almost managed to evade arrest before being contained.

STATUS: RESIDENT – UNAWARE.

PH-RES-030 has been assimilated into Pleasant Hill as ABIGAIL JAMES, a sixteen year old high school drama student. Connections include being the sister of PH-RES-037. Following the required weeklong stay in the Inn, PH-RES-030 has been released to their residence. PH-RES-030 is not currently eligible for parole.

#pleasant hill: profile #pleasant hill

[sawtellaustralia]

AFFORDABLE COUNTRY LIVING

#realty realestate propery houseforsale

[polymathicdragon]

Terms of Endearment

A Bagginshield Fanfic (also available HERE on ao3)

Summary: Khuzdul terms of endearment are pretty common and Bilbo has heard them all, though he's a little wary of using Hobbit terms of endearment as he's not sure how well they will translate. But after so many years of being together he decides he can't help himself anymore...and it turns out to be the best decision. 

Rating: General audiences

This story is all because I had a random headcanon based on this tiktok. I posted it into our Bagginshield discord and it ran away from there and I knew I needed to write it!

I wouldn't have been so excited to write this without so many amazing ideas and Hobbit endearments from my friends over on the discord. They include: @the-game-is-up @curiousartemis @lesbiankiliel @imsoconfused16 @mulasawala @mandolinearts

Story below the cut!

Bilbo had settled into his new role as husband and King’s consort well, he had tried hard to make sure that he understood and respected Dwarven culture and customs, while also sprinkling in a bit of Hobbit sensibility where he could. Thorin had always called him sweet terms of endearment in Khuzdul, which he now understood much better having learned the language and its meaning, and Bilbo would smile and reply in kind. It wasn’t that Hobbits didn’t have terms of endearment, but he didn’t think that they’d quite translate well, so he let them slip from his mind. Until one day, he couldn’t help himself.

It was one of those rare occurrences that Thorin and Bilbo actually had a day to themselves, which seemed to be less and less as the years went on and the mountain fared better than it ever had. Bilbo was laying in bed still, covers strewn around him, while Thorin had gone to grab them breakfast. As he returned and handed Bilbo a steaming cup of tea, Bilbo grinned.

“Good morning honeycake,” he said as he took the cup from Thorin’s hands.

At first Thorin just nodded, “You’re wel--” but then blinked, “what did you call me?”

Bilbo just laughed and Thorin cocked his head a bit but just let it go, instead climbing up into bed with his own tea and as they enjoyed a quiet morning together.

---

It was a few weeks later and Thorin had been working late at his desk, pouring over paperwork. A pile that no matter how long he sat there, never seemed to diminish. Bilbo walked in quietly, placing his hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“Hello, my lovely potato.”

Thorin leaned back, smiling up at Bilbo, “Hello, ghivashel.”

“How are things going?” Bilbo asked.

“As well as usual,” Thorin sighed, then he looked up at Bilbo, a small smirk, “Am I a sweet potato?”

Bilbo broke into giggles and Thorin dragged him into his lap, placing lingering kisses all over his face and neck.

---

And so it began, Bilbo didn’t want to overdo it so he waited for the right moment, whenever Thorin was distracted doing something else he would break out a Hobbit endearment.

Thorin was sitting in his favorite chair, reading a pile of documents. Bilbo came in from a meeting and walked up to him, reaching out his hand which Thorin took instinctively.

“Hello, my handsome parsnip.”

“Hello,” Thorin said, distracted still as his eyes scanned the document. Until it seemed he had processed what Bilbo actually said. He blinked and shook his head, looking up at Bilbo, “What is a parsnip?”

---

Bilbo found Thorin one day in his forge, he had been working on a project for weeks and had come to bed late most nights, smelling of smoke and metal. It was a smell Bilbo had long gotten used to. He stepped carefully into the forge as Thorin pulled a piece of metal out of the fire. Thorin smiled at him, lifting his hammer in a slight wave.

“Hello my darling mushroom king,” Bilbo called, a smile plastered on his face.

Thorin paused, setting down his hammer, a slight frown, “Now that’s just offensive.”

Bilbo laughed as Thorin put down the red hot metal he was working with and pulled off his gloves to come over to Bilbo. Bilbo took his hands, “But you're my mushroom, a rare one at that. And I’m so lucky to have found you.”

Thorin leaned down and kissed Bilbo, pulling him into his arms, “As sweet as that is amrâlimê, I hate mushrooms.” Bilbo laughed into his chest.

---

Thorin had been in council meetings for the past two days, they were hosting Men, Elves, and Dwarves of the Iron Hills, hoping to expand trade agreements in the north and also strategize safety and security. Orcs had appeared more frequently recently, coming from the north out of Mount Gundabad. Thorin felt like the headache forming behind his eyeballs would blind him permanently. Bilbo had been in meetings as well, and so they had barely seen each other at all. Finally everyone was free to have an informal lunch together, giving everyone a much needed break. Bilbo swept into the main dining room alongside some Elves and Dwarves. He walked over to Thorin and couldn’t even help the fact that they were surrounded by others.

“How are you my sweet-tasting cantaloupe?” Bilbo said, taking Thorin’s hands.

A few heads nearby turned to look at them, clear confusion on their faces. Thorin’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide, “What?”

Bilbo just smiled. Thorin groaned, a bit mortified, “Why can’t you just call me normal names?” he whispered.

Bilbo frowned, feeling a bit offended, “If more of us valued food and cheer and song, it would be a merrier world.”

Thorin softened then, realizing his error, “Of course, ghivashel. You are right, I’m sorry.”

---

Thorin had been away for far longer than he ever wished. He had needed to visit the Dwarven kingdom in the east to rebuild trade agreements and secure allies as rumors had begun that an evil was building in the south. He finally arrived home late, much later than he would’ve liked. There was little fanfare as it was the middle of the night. Thorin departed from his companions, heading straight to his rooms. There was no way that Bilbo would still be awake. As Thorin opened the door to his rooms, he saw that the fire was still going. The door to their bedroom opened and Bilbo’s face lit up, and he quickly strode towards him.

“You’re finally home! My prize-winning tomato!” Bilbo said as he wrapped himself around Thorin. As strange as it was, Thorin’s heart soared at the endearment, pulling him in tight, never wanting to let go. Somehow, he found himself falling more in love with Bilbo every time it happened.

---

Bilbo was tucked comfortably under the covers, waiting for Thorin to climb into bed. Bilbo had let his eyes droop a bit, sad that they had just been so busy lately as to barely see each other before exhaustion overtook them both. It seemed they would be this busy forever, and he thought about what it would be like to convince Thorin to retire and they could travel and live in the Shire. It was a pleasant thought.

He heard the door to the bathroom open and he opened his eyes. Thorin’s hair was loose and wet on the ends from where it had dipped into the water of his bath. He was only dressed in loose pants and Bilbo couldn’t help but stare. He’d seen his husband naked hundreds if not thousands of times by now, but it always made his breath catch, and the familiar feeling tingle down his spine. Bilbo was hopeless and grinned like a lovesick fool, which Thorin caught on as he climbed into bed, giving his own winning smile.

“Well hello my sexy roast beef,” Bilbo stated, more sultry than he expected.

A slight blush came to Thorin’s cheeks as he looked at Bilbo for a long moment.

“Can I marry you for a second time?” he said, his own voice deep and husky.

Bilbo nodded but the words he meant to say were lost as Thorin pulled him in close, kissing him soundly.

---

Thorin had told Balin he was taking the afternoon off. It had been one of the first nice days after a hard winter and he had hoped to catch Bilbo by surprise and spend a restful and carefree day and evening with his beloved. The possibilities were endless and he knew that this kind of day would be a hobbit dream.

He went first to the kitchens and got a quick dessert that he had pre-planned with Bombur that morning and then went to their rooms. He found Bilbo writing at his desk. Thorin quietly set down the pastries and wrapped his arms around Bilbo from behind.

“Hello my gorgeous steamed cabbage” Thorin said, hoping he had gotten the endearment correct. As far as he could tell after many, many times it was a positive and loving adjective and then a vegetable or fruit of some kind. He wasn’t very well versed in growing anything, but it was the first one that came to mind.

Bilbo stilled in his arms, the pen where it had been moving even as Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo had stopped, the ink pooling a bit on the paper.

Then what sounded like a laugh, followed by a cough from the Hobbit in his arms. Bilbo put the pen down and turned slightly in his chair.

Thorin knew immediately by the mirth on Bilbo’s face that it was not correct, “steamed cabbage?” Bilbo said flatly, though amusement played in his eyes.

“Have I offended you, ghivashel?” Thorin pulled his arms away, frowning.

Bilbo started, and then stopped, a few times trying to find the words. “I’m not offended, but it just...your heart was in it…”

“But it doesn’t quite work…” Thorin supplied, disappointed.

Bilbo stood, smiling and took Thorin’s hands, “It was a good effort, but you should stick to Khuzdul, my perfect potato.”

#bagginshield #story #fanfiction #ao3 #hobbits #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #erebor #dwarves #khuzdul #endearments #fluff #food #headcanon

[spideyanakin]

The World Isn’t Quiet Anymore - Part 3; The Ring

Peter Parker x Elf! Reader Lord Of The Rings Au

Chapter 1 - The Fellowship of The Ring

Part 3 ~ The Ring

Series Masterlist 🍒

Normal Masterlist 🧚🏻‍♀️

A few hours later and you were walking through the Caradhras. Its high peaks were covered by a bedding of snow. The whole fellowship falling quiet as you all walked admiring the blue skies that made the snow sparkle.

You were about to send a snowball on Legolas when Frodo slipped and fell at your feet. You bent down to try and help him up, Gandalf joining you. His ring had slipped out of his hand and onto the snow, catching the attention of Boromir.

The man grabbed the ring that was on the floor and admired it with all its mesmerizing beauty.

"How can such a small thing hold so much power?" He stared at it losing himself in its golden appearance.

"Boromir," Aragorn said as he saw Boromir get lost in its power. "Give the ring to Frodo." He shot daggers at him with his eyes, holding on tight to his sword in case he had to do the unthinkable to get it back.

Boromir stared at Frodo and slowly walked to him, your eyes glued onto the scene. He handed him the ring before a large almost insane smile danced across his lips his hand coming up to ruffle his hair. You shared a look with Legolas who was just as concerned as you before taking your eyes back to the road ready to continue your journey.

Before you knew it you were walking in the harsh snow. You and Legolas perfectly balancing on top of it, your delicate and weightless bodies being as agile as the wind.

"you alright?" You asked Peter as you saw his nose and ears slowly turn red because of the cold.

"Yeah." He nodded shivering as he answered.

You gave him a small smile before handing him your hand. He questioned your action before relentlessly grabbing it.

You stepped a little closer before grabbing his hand with both your hands a strike of heat coming up his body.

He stopped shivering and the ice that had formed on his eyelashed melted away. He looked at you with an aw struck dopey smile and gave you a grateful nod that you returned.

"Elves don't get cold, but they can warm up others." You winked at him before suddenly turning your head around when you heard a sudden voice come from the distance.

Everyone's words were all a blur when you spotted lightning striking the top of the mountain sending an avalanche into the fellowship.

You all rolled down the cliff thanking the snow for easing the fall.

You popped your head out of the snow and sudden panic hit you when you saw no one. Legolas popped out of the ground like a daisy and looked around in concern. You did the same as you saw the others pop out the snow too.

You took your time to look around and let out a sigh of relief as Peter finally got out, taking a large breath of air as he thanked the heavens for being alive.

"Are you ok?" You asked and he nodded, earning a look from Legolas as to why you were taking such interest in a human.

~

"Be careful!" You chuckled as Peter tripped onto a rock leading to the mines of Moria. He gave you a grateful smile as you held him up and continued your walk next to him.

"Thank you." He chuckled his cheeks painted with red as he made contact with you.

"Don't worry about it." You replied and gave him a warm smile that made his heart skip a beat.

"What are you playing at?" Legolas asked you in elvish as you walked a little forward towards the mines.

"What?" You asked not realizing the large smile you were wearing.

"The human." He pointed to behind him, where Peter was mindlessly looking at the trees.

"What do you mean?" You wondered your elvish words slipping out of your mouth like an ocean of glittering words.

"That you like him."

"I don't!" You defended but Legolas smirked in disbelief.

"Be careful Y/n, he's a human," Legolas added in concern as he jumped from a rock to another. "You know what you're getting yourself into." The elvish words felt easier on Legolas's tongue than the English he had to bear.

"I never said I did!" You screamed back in English earning concerned looks from everyone in the fellowship and a smirk forming on Aragorn's lips.

"I don't want to lose you, cousin, you know how much you mean to me," Legolas replied turning back to Elvish and you grabbed a small rock that you threw at him, not speaking another word.

The next thing you remember was walking through the mines of Moria and Pippin accidentally tripping on armor making a wave of goblins wake up and charge.

You were running trying to survive, shooting arrows here and there, desperate to keep the lives of everyone making the journey with you.

You screamed as you watched Peter get swarmed by a few orcs, killing them and helping him on the way.

and before you even knew it, like images flashing through your eyes; Gandalf fell into the depths of the caves and the fellowship was walking towards Mordor again.

Not really knowing what to do anymore, you all flopped on the ground of a safe area with a pleasant view, resting as the day became dreaded. You sat down by the fire, losing yourself in the beauty of the flames as you felt the tears spill from your eyes at the loss of Gandalf.

"Here." Legolas handed you a few pieces of Lambas that you took not even feeling hungry enough to take it.

"Frodo?" You asked out of the blue.

"Yes?" He asked back.

"Your very brave you know..." You continued still staring at the flames, the events of the day still fresh in your mind.

"Thank you." He replied and nodded, confidence flowing in him as a beautiful creature such as you would compliment him.  

You made eye contact with Peter from across the fire, sharing a small unsure smile.

"The fire is dying down," Sam said while pushing some potatoes in his pan.

"I'll get more wood." Peter stepped up, his soft voice ringing in your pointy ears.

"No, I'll go don't worry." You stood up and pushed the dust from the ground out of your lap and hands, Legolas eyeing you suspiciously.

"More hands! More wood!" Gimli almost screamed, the rage of his grief still filling the air.

You nodded without a word as if you did say a word you were scared it would break like porcelain and shatter into tears. Legolas didn't comment but shot daggers with his eyes at Gimli, not liking the fact that you and the human had a new opportunity of getting close.

You silently walked down the small hill you had taken refuge, Peter following. You dodged the trees going down, landing perfectly onto flat ground. Peter's pace was slower, as he carefully used the trees to not slip on the stiff land.

You waited for him at the bottom, watching his every move.

"What?" He asked as he felt your stare on him, his soft tone soothing the fatigue of the voyage.

"Nothing." You smiled as he walked towards you. "Just watching how humans climb down." You breathed as you fixed your sword on your hip. "I find it fascinating." You shyly smiled.

"Well, your fascinating." Peter's word slipped out his mouth like wet soap, sending a light blush to your cheeks. "I- I mean- elves are- um- Fascinating." He stuttered catching himself in his words. "I'd never met elves before..."

"Well, now your friends with one." You smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, you and Peter feeling a firework of tingles flow into your bodies.

"I-" You wanted to speak but the words got stolen from your throat, and you ended up wordless instead, suddenly feeling your throat going dry.

You felt as though you forgot how to blink, your speechlessness not helping your case. Both of you had stayed there, getting lost in each other's eyes as the owls and wildlife were the only noise that echoed from the forest.

You shut your eyes as you felt like you were going to end up kissing him, the air getting too much to take in as the air got caught in your lungs.

"Wood... We got to get wood." You chuckled and slipped your hand away from Peter's shoulder, it passing by his arm before returning to your side. You turned around to face the ocean of trees and fallen branches, scanning around for dry ones, worthy of bringing back to camp.

As your mind thought of Peter, you lost track of your feet and tripped onto a large root, Peter catching you as you did.

"Aren't elves supposed to be like? Agile?" He chuckled and you playfully slapped his arm.

"Not when someone makes them lose balance." You couldn't help the words slip out as Peter helped you bring balance back to your feet. You removed your dagger from your boot and chopped a large fallen branch into two.

"Take those." You handed Peter the two large logs, thanking the fallen night so he couldn't see the blush that had made its way to your cheeks, Peter thinking the same.

He held the logs as you dropped a few more small ones on top, Peter shifting his grip on it.

You grabbed some wood yourself and started making your way back to camp.

"We're passing through Lothlorien." You broke the silence. "It's elven grounds. You'll meet more elves there." You chuckled.

"Oh really!?"

"Yeah." You smiled "You know the leader of the council. Elrond?" You asked and watched Peter as he nodded. "Well, his mother rules these parts."

"Oh, that's amazing." He replied feeling even more amazed by the elven culture than before. Happiness settled at the bottom of his stomach slowly eating up the grief from past events.

"I could teach you everything about us if you'd like." You smiled, Peter's cheeks burning at your words.

"I would love to." He smiled his face being now as red as Sauron's eye.

"Then I will." You straightened up as you took the last big step towards the camp, finally seeing what was left of the small fire dancing in the middle of the camp lighting the way.

"We got wood!" Peter exclaimed as you got near the group.

"Amazing." Sam smiled as he took the wood from your arms, his positiveness making you smile.

- Tag List - 

@averyfosterthoughts @emmaloo21 @ifntelyinspirit@slytherinambitious @anapocalypseinmymind @r0binbuckleys​

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x y/n #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x y/n #spiderman #spider man x reader #spiderman x reader #spider man #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #Tom Holland imagine #Peter Parker imagine #spider man imagine #lord of the rings au #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings #fan fiction

[kaaras-adaar-a]

He did not know when the world would end, when the Dread Wolf would raise his head again, so in those quiet moments in between chaos and the unknown, he wanted to love.

Characters: Kaaras Adaar, The Iron Bull Post-Trespasser Warning: Contains adult themes, profanity

The air was like ice to his skin, frost puffing from his nostrils with every breath as the sun had barely risen. He could even feel his lips sting as he licked them with a warm tongue, tasting the sharpness of frost. He could smell it, too. The scent of home. Ferelden. It was hard to describe what the cold air tasted and smelled like. And no, it wasn’t the scent of dog, like everyone claimed. Sure, Fereldans certainly liked their hounds, especially their mabari war hounds, but mabari were not something one saw on a regular basis. They were special hounds, bred for war. The only dogs that would be seen here were common hunting hounds or retrievers. And right now, there wasn’t a single one in sight, not that one could see far considering the thick fog that crossed the fields and hills.

The sharp chill caused Kaaras’ arm to ache, where the anchor had once been. He was still getting used to it, even though it had been months since he’d seen Solas, since he’d been in Halamshiral… since he’d been the Inquisitor. 

The thought made him feel hollow on the inside, like a large part of himself was missing. He’d allowed the last few years to consume him, his title, his purpose Now, without it… it was difficult to lead a normal life once more.

Oh, there was nothing normal about Kaaras Adaar. He’d been a war hero, he’d been the man to stop Corypheus and his demon army, and the world would never forget his tale. But it still felt so strange to be away from it all. The companions, even if they were never truly too far away from him. He could always trust Leliana knowing of his whereabouts, Cassandra close in tow. Cullen had also returned to Ferelden, so it was easy enough to catch up with him. The rest, letters were common enough between them, and it wasn’t like Kaaras could ever take his ‘uniform’ off. How could he when Thedas still needed him? They might not know it, but something much bigger was coming, and when the time came, the Inquisition would be there--he would be there.  

Kaaras knew, even before the Exalted Council, that he could never abandon the Inquisition, that he could never abandon Thedas. So let the public think that they had disbanded, let them believe that they had put away their swords, but they were still working hard, putting together a force to fight when the time would come. After all, it was not in his nature to simply give up.

He had given the Inquisition his all. He had served Thedas, helped those in need. He couldn’t abandon that now, not when he knew that they would need them again. The choice to disband had been one of the hardest things in his life, and yet… he knew it was right. He knew that Ferelden had a point. So be the hero while they needed him to be, and put the sword down when the time was right. They had served their purpose, they had defeated Corypheus and restored order. Let them remember the Inquisition for the good deeds that they had done, not for the corruption and power that would soon devour it if they allowed Solas and his people to infiltrate. It was the safest thing to do, but the right thing to do by everyone else as well. His companions, his soldiers, they had paid their price. He could not take them from their lives anymore, their families and friends. 

Resting his hand against the wooden railing of the balcony, his fingers brushed at the icicles that had formed. Snow was yet to come, but it would be here soon; he could feel it in the air. A few more weeks, perhaps, and the entirety of all he could see across the fields would be covered in white, and the poor, little tavern that they were in would be having it rough. Not many tourists or traders came this way for holidays. A few stray travellers maybe, such as themselves, but that would be all. Such was the life of Fereldans. A hardy bunch, but often struggling to make a living. 

Kaaras was used to it. His whole life, he’d had to work hard, harder than most considering his grey skin and horns. People never much liked to give him a chance, and they either stared at him in fear or awe. Sometimes it was both. He’d made it this far, though, and he’d heard just about every insult that could be thrown in his direction. After a while, his skin grew thicker, but it didn’t take much to know that he was soft beneath it all. 

The view before him was simple but beautiful. He should have been colder than he was, but this was the weather he’d grown up in, and he was far better at tolerating the cold than he’d ever been at dealing with the heat. Even now, he stood outside on the balcony in nothing but a pair of woollen socks and a gown wrapped around him, his shins victim to the cold chill. 

Suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts as two strong hands made their way around his waist from behind. It startled him, but he was held in place as he felt Bull’s body press up against his. 

“You’d better have some pants on…” he teased, pressing himself against the thick of Bull’s chest. 

Bull laughed. Of course he had pants on, but only because it was so fucking cold out here. “Where’d the fun in that be?” The Iron Bull replied, a hand moving down Kaaras’ arm and overlapping his lover’s knuckles. “It’d be a pleasant view, to you and everyone else. Better than this damn cold.” Bull grumbled to himself then. “And I thought Orlais was cold…” 

“It is,” Kaaras chuckled, though he also looked back just to make sure Bull was actually wearing something. Thank the Maker he was. Nobody was up yet anyway--otherwise Kaaras probably would have properly dressed himself as well. He supposed being with Bull had made him a tad bit more confident, although he still didn’t like the idea of most of his skin showing on any given day. He was truly a private individual. 

Bull’s thick fingers intertwined with his own on top of the cold wood as he felt warm lips brush up against the side of his neck, just behind his ear. It tickled and had his cheeks warming, a tingle going all through his body. It didn’t take much to get him going, but he adored Bull’s affections when he was wanting to give it. 

“I can still smell the oils from last night's bath on you. How is it that you always smell so damn good, Kadan?” Another hand moved over Kaaras’ shoulder and down beneath what remained of his mangled arm, wrapping around the front to pull the former Inquisitor into an embrace of sorts. Bull had gotten used to waking in a bed beside the other qunari now, and some mornings still caught him by surprise. Pleasant surprise of course. This had never been a life he thought he could lead--a real romantic relationship, one he had found love with. One he could feel so devoted to outside of the Qun. Now… now, the man in his arms was his life, the one he fought for and beside. There were still days where Bull felt himself a monster, a savage with no control, especially ever since he had been stated Tal’Vashoth, but there was one constant in his life, and that was Kaaras. He was what kept him grounded, just as much as Bull was for Kaaras when he needed support and someone to keep his feet steady. 

The blush on Kaaras’ cheeks only lingered, a coy smile spreading across thin lips. Even after the last few years, Bull still made him blush as if it were his first time. Turning over his shoulder, he gently pressed his head against Bull’s before he planted a soft peck onto his lips in response. 

“I do it just to rile you up,” he jested, though gasped when Bull pressed himself up against him and pinned him to the balcony. If his blush had been coy before, it was certainly flustered now, long ears flicking downward. He would have caught himself with both hands before, but instead, the limb twitched, like it was going to, but nothing came of it and he was a little lopsided because of it. 

It made him feel uneasy, the lack of control. Not because of Bull--it had nothing to do with his lover--but because he’d always been such an independent person. Now he felt… hopeless at times. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like asking for help (although that was true, too), it was more the fact that Kaaras hated to feel like he was burdening others.

It had taken a long time for Kaaras to come to terms with his dismemberment. The mental and physical struggles had been hard to overcome, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be entirely over it. If it weren’t for Bull’s reassurance (being disabled himself), and Dagna’s hard efforts into making him a prosthetic, he wasn’t sure how far he’d come from it all. Kaaras knew what it was like to be in a dark place from his adolescence, and he pushed himself to never fall back into that darkness. Maker, it had been hard. Without the strength of his lover, he may have fallen. 

Mostly, Kaaras missed being able to hold Bull, to feel him in the palm of his hand, to brush his fingers against his skin or… something else. Clearly Bull noticed the reaction, because the next thing he felt was a strong hand gently moving across the muscle on his arm, just above where his elbow was. 

“Hey, you know you’re perfect the way you are, yeah?” 

Kaaras turned around so he could face Bull now, a saddened smile across his eyes. “I know you say that…”

“Yeah, I do.” He lifted Kaaras’ hand and pressed the man’s knuckles to his lips. Bull also knew that him saying it wouldn’t bring Kaaras’ limb back, nor would it make him feel like he was perfect or complete. Words didn’t always make everything better, hell, sometimes they made shit worse. But Bull was here to let Kaaras know that he wasn’t worthless because he’d been butchered by some ancient bastard. He supposed he could have been angrier, Solas could have killed his lover. Then he’d be everything the Qun taught him he’d be: a savage monster, ready to kill. Alas, he’d not been with Solas those last few moments before he disappeared, but something told the warrior that Solas was on a mission to destroy himself. And if he didn’t, he’d be there to do it for him.  

“And I mean it when I say it.” Bull’s other hand moved to cup the stubble-covered cheek, a thumb brushing over the scar on the mage’s bottom lip. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known, Kadan. The bravest, and kindest.” Hell, he was willing to forgive Solas when he knew he’d never have that kind of strength, let alone kindness. 

“Sexiest, too…”

Kaaras breathed a laugh at that. “I think the cold’s gotten to you.”

Bull smirked. “I’m feeling pretty hot actually, if you get my drift.” The warrior wiggled his brows, the patch that usually covered his marred eye back inside, having been discarded somewhere last night. That was a future issue he’d deal with. Right now, he wanted to concentrate on the beautiful man that stood before him, wrapped in a tedious gown that should be stripped off immediately so he could devour every inch of him from head to toe. 

“Why don’t we get out of this cold before my nipples snap off, and before you get frostbite on your tootsies.” 

Kaaras looked down. “I was smart enough to wear socks,” he pointed out, raising a brow as he eyed Bull’s shirtlessness. It was no one's fault but Bull’s that he was cold. Bull grumbled in response, which only made him respond with  an amused look.

“Well, we could stand out here all morning and argue who’s more dressed than the other, and how damn cold it is, or we could go inside and lay by a warm fire. I’m pretty sure I know which one I’d rather do.” 

Kaaras chuckled, his hand moving to Bull’s and holding it. “Alright, alright,” he smiled, jutting his chin in the direction of the door. Bull happily opened it and stepped back inside, Kaaras following. The difference between inside and out was stark. Even if the fire that had been going last night was nothing but embers now, the temperature was still much warmer.

He felt Bull’s hand leave his as he picked up a few logs and put them in, stoking the fire to restart. Despite being around magic for so long, Bull still didn’t rely on it. Nor did Kaaras, if he were honest. He had always been taught to never rely solely on his magical abilities. If he was stuck in a sticky situation, one which would get him into trouble, or one with magebane, then it would not bode well for him to rely upon his talents as a mage. Even as a skilled mage, Kaaras had always used it only when he needed to--aside from his training and meditation. It was no surprise that Bull stoked the fire without asking for his assistance, and Kaaras hardly took any kind of offence. 

Moving to the bed, he took a seat at the edge, fingers brushing thick furs. The tavern was no fancy palace or estate that he may have been used to spending his last few years in. In fact, this was far more like the years before being Inquisitor. It was humble, cosy and if Kaaras were honest, comfortable. This was his core being. There was little more Fereldan one could get than feeling the furs on the beds, the fire bouncing off old, wooden walls. All he needed was a slice of cheese and a warm cuppa.

His eyes watched as Bull awakened the fire, just watching as his lover moved, the flicker of light off thick muscle as the sun began to rise above the treeline outside now. Strong, mentally and physically, but surprisingly soft Bull was. He might never admit it, but he was far more romantic than he gave himself credit for. It had been a large risk for him to accept Bull’s company that one evening over three years ago. He had been terrified, terrified of getting hurt, of making some kind of a mistake, but Bull had proven to be one of the most caring and compassionate people he’d ever known. He was hardly the monster that he made himself out to be, the thing. He was a person just like anyone else, and so much more than that. 

“There. That’s better.” Bull stood back up as the fire roared back to life from the fresh kindling and logs. As he stood, he cracked his back and stretched his arms before he turned to see Kaaras on the bed. 

“You okay, Kadan?”

Ruby eyes looked up to catch Bull’s eye. “Hm? Yes, I’m…” Kaaras hummed through his nostrils and shook his head. “Never better, really. I’ve got a warm fire before me, a comfortable bed and most importantly, you as my company.” He outstretched his arm, beckoning for Bull to come and lay down with him. To spend the morning together before they were back on the road. Moments like this had felt rare when he was the Inquisitor, a calm moment he could share with his lover. Now, whilst he could, he wanted to take every chance he could with Bull. To never miss an opportunity, a moment to love and cherish him. He did not know when the world would end, when the Dread Wolf would raise his head again, so in those quiet moments in between chaos and the unknown, he wanted to love.

It took mere seconds for Bull to be on the bed beside him, laying down facing one another. Bull propped himself up onto his elbow so his horn wouldn’t scratch at the head of the bed, or kink his neck too much. 

A large hand moved to cup Kaaras’ cheek, Bull looking between each of those deep, red eyes. “You helped me find my purpose without the Qun, Kadan. I’ll help you find yours without the Inquisition.”

Kaaras’ eyes lowered for a moment, watching Bull’s lips so he didn’t have to look him in the eye, until Bull’s hand moved and propped his chin up so he had no choice. He wanted to say that that had been different, but it hadn’t, had it. They had both lost a part of themselves. For Bull, it had been so much more. He’d lost his home, his culture, his identity--even if he’d been living as a Tal’Vashoth for years. The reality of no longer being welcome, no longer having those contacts to a place called home? Kaaras only felt part of that, but the Inquisition had become a home, a family to him. Perhaps that made him a weak leader, too compassionate and comfortable. But he missed it all, and would continue to do so for a very long time.

Awkwardly, he shuffled himself so that his hand could take Bull’s. He should have attached his prosthetic, but he wanted to be warmer before he did that. The cold made his arm ache and the skin was stiff. 

“I believe you.” He meant what he said. His hand moved lower, tracing down the cord around Bull’s neck to feel the smoothness of the dragon tooth necklace that hung between his thick bosoms. “No matter how far apart, we’ll always be together.” 

“Damn straight.” Bull pressed a kiss against the man’s lips, pulling him closer and tangling their legs. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that shit, but he sure as hell believed in Kaaras Adaar.

#Adaar #Iron Bull #the iron bull #Kadan #Captain to Captain #Adaaribull #Post trespasser #My fics #my art #// I'd been sitting on this one for months but thanks to some inspo from Tas I finally decided to work on it today #// Just a quiet post trespasser moment between Kaaras and Bull :3

[r-ray]

For all it’s greatness and wealth, most of Camelot is just this: endless dreary swamps.

They’ve been riding since sunrise, though said sunrise this time of year is nothing more than a murky greyness. The scarce lunch they ate without leaving their saddles didn’t elevate his mood either. Merlin is sleepy, hungry, and his ass is about to fall off.

“Merlin,” Arthur calls wearily. “Stop dozing off. You’re lulling me to sleep.”

“Oh really? And here I thought that it’s this spectacular view of swamps, quags, and puddles of dirt,” he retorts halfheartedly, but straightens his spine. One of the knights, hard so say which one, snorts behind their backs.

“Why people live here anyway?” he grumbles. “It doesn’t look like you can grow much on these bogs.”

Arthur rolls his shoulders. He might never admit it, being a stubborn oaf that he is, but he is tired as well.

“These lands used to be the richest of the Five Kingdoms, back in the old days. Generous soil, best crops. Villages every few miles. Nemeth’s wellness goes back to those times.”

“Hard to believe,” mutters Merlin. “What happened?”

Arthur gives him a one-shoulder shrug. “Ground waters started to rise. Fields turned into this,” he nods to the depressive landscape. “Most of the people left. Those few who stayed live on the patch between the Feorre mountains and these swamps, on the Samgein hill. Well, lived...”

“Until now,” Merlin finishes for him.

Arthur nods grimly.

They were on an ordinary patrol ride when a messenger from the south border intercepted their party. People from Nemeth started to come to the one of the outlying hamlets; they were coming in families, bringing their cattle and houseware with them. It turned out that they were seeking refuge from Saxon attacks. The tiny village could not house them for long, and the weather was still too cold for the kids and elders to live in camps in the woods or to travel far. Sure thing, Arthur decided to make a detour to the border and figure out what’s going on without even returning to Camelot to replenish their supplies.

It’s not a pleasant trip so far. Sometimes Merlin wishes that Arthur was a bit less diligent and delegated some of his duties to others. Like riding on patrols in the middle of the winter, for example. He is a king now, after all. But that wouldn’t be Arthur anymore. Arthur, being Arthur, has to go on patrols, and to ride to defend tiny villages, even if they lie in the farthest corner of the kingdom…

Come to think of it, outside of the Camelot borders as well.

Underneath his irritation, Merlin cannot help feeling proud of him.

It’s been only a few months, but it’s already clear that Arthur will make a good king, both loved and respected by his people. It’s not a surprise. Before Uther’s death, Arthur had been a regent for more than a year, and he managed just fine. But however many of the king’s duties he took upon himself back then, there was still some kind of self-restraint in him. Arthur behaved as if he was a keeper of Camelot, not it’s owner; as if Uther was on a long trip, but soon would be back. His death made the weight on Arthur’s shoulders much heavier.

The kingdom belongs to him now, but Merlin sees that it’s not how Arthur feels. It’s more the other way around: like Camelot owns Arthur, completely and indisputably. Probably this is exactly what makes him a good ruler, what will make him a great one someday soon. But Merlin is sorry to see the boyish prince to go. Who would have thought that he’ll be missing that prat; and yet he finds himself inventing mean names for Arthur and intentionally forgetting to clean the dinner table, only to drag out the childish, petulant and insufferable side of Arthur, the one that does not belong to the kingdom, but only to Arthur himself.

And, since Merlin is the only one privy to this side, maybe to Merlin as well. Just a little bit.

It works less and less often though. Most times Arthur just jibes him back, sometimes absentmindedly, when he is too busy thinking about the matters of the state, and sometimes with that indulgent smile, like he sees right through Merlin’s ploy. It’s good not to be roughly manhandled and hit by throwed boots every other day… Except maybe it’s not so good after all, not when it comes with a constant frown on Arthur’s brow. So Merlin sets himself on doing what he can to lift some of the burden from Arthur’s shoulders, as best as he can without attracting too much attention.

With Arthur’s stubborn refusal to share his concerns and with the Council’s constant warnings against diverging from Uther’s style of rule, and especially with Agravaine’s not so subtle attempts to make himself the king’s right hand, it’s not an easy task at all. But it hasn’t been easy to keep Arthur alive all these years either. Merlin is good at being stealthy.

When Arthur rises in his stirrups, trying to see what lies ahead, Merlin tilts his head to the side to hide his eyes, exhales and pushes his mind outside of his body.

It expands and envelops everything that is around, spreading further and further away. It probes and touches here and there, until it finds a raven, tearing up a rapidly cooling rabbit corpse.

The bird croaks, sensing the intrusion, but Merlin is already in. He is the bird, the salty taste of meat is on his tongue, the low wind cards through his feathers. He flaps his wings and lifts off, feeling weary and tired. The raven is old, and this winter has not been kind on him. He doesn’t have the curiosity of younger birds, he doesn’t want to feel this stranger inside his mind, he doesn’t want to obey him. He wants to finish his meal and to find some quiet spot where the wind won’t be this harsh, to hide there, to raise his feathers and sleep. It wasn’t easy to catch that rabbit…

Their minds grind against each other, like two rough stones which edges do not fit. But Merlin’s mind is made of granite, while the bird’s is as soft as limestone. The bird’s mind cedes without putting up much fight.

Merlin feels guilty. This rabbit could have been the difference between survival and death for the bird. But it’s too late now, they’re too far away already. To make up for the lost food, he sends a jolt of magic to the bird’s body, healing his bones and giving him some strength. It’s not much, but the bird doesn’t have much longer to live in any case. With this bit of magic, though, it might see the spring, feel the warmth of the returning sun once again, and hear the coos of the hatching fledglings.

One thing he knows from looking into the minds of other creatures is that all living beings want to see one more sunrise and one more spring.

They – the raven and Merlin in his mind – circle around, surveying the gloomy landscape. Some people on the horses ride below. Perhaps they’ll make a camp, perhaps they’ll leave some wasted food behind… The raven’s mind is confused by the knight’s talks leaking in from that part of Merlin’s mind that is still in his own head, by the low and steady voice, speaking of something strange, of routes and patrols. The raven feels warmth stirring in his-but-not-his chest, in the heart of the mind-intruder, and a peculiar dull yearning, like a long-standing pain, so usual by now that it’s hard to remember what it was without it; but then all these confusing feelings disappear, as Merlin cuts it off from the raven’s thoughts. The raven, following Merlin’s order, careens to the left and flies along the road, towards where the patrol is heading. Not much to see there: the same destitute lands, ice crust on the water holes, scraggy trees sticking out like gnawed ribs of a deceased animal.

And then he sees them. The long line of the people and cattle, several heavily loaded carts, children and old men and women have perched themselves between the bales and baskets. They move towards the horsemen. They will meet soon, maybe when the daylight will start to give in to the darkness.

The raven, pushed by Merlin’s will, raises higher and flies further. Finally, far ahead of him, he sees the smoking ruins of a village, and an army.

***

If you read it till here: I'm not sure what's the right way of asking this, so I'll just ask directly: is there any gentle soul willing to beta-read ~10K of this? *puppy eyes*

#merlin #merlin the road builder #mine #fic bits

[morethanaprincess-a]

@despairfiles​ said: ♡ 22 for our messy duo

First Date meme

As far as first dates went, it wasn’t quite what Sonia expected or would have planned. Much less, a first date with the quiet expectation that sometime in the not-so-distant future, she’d be proposing marriage to her date both out of urgency and affection.

But circumstances being what they were, and the Queen of Novoselic was left with few options. And so she’d chosen the one that felt the least like work, at least where Em-Shirou was concerned, and what offered them the most seclusion: a hike around Novoselic Castle’s extensive grounds followed by a picnic lunch. If a picnic included roasted meat sandwiches, crudités and cheese, and small slices of cake served on real china, topped off by drinks of their choice (in her case, wine. Even if she was on an outing with someone she loved, it was still a first date and anything to settle her nerves was welcome). 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t venture much into the city, perhaps see some of the recently opened museums or other attractions,” She apologized, only for the third time since they’d left the Castle behind. Sonia had phrased it differently when they passed by her parents’ graves, and then over the large hill that separated the grassy fields from the forests, and now as they crossed over a creek that spilled into the nearby lake. “It would cause too much commotion if we, or mostly I, was seen out and about in the capitol. I did not think it correct to request amusements be shuttered only for our particular use out of safety concerns. Not when the public can use any and all cheering up they can.”

In comparison, she had every luxury the new, post-Tragedy world could offer at her disposal, save for the ability of planning a suitable date that wouldn’t feel like work to either of them. Without a formal engagement announcement, Shirou was still her guard in the eyes of her people and most of the staff, parliament, and Council members. The press was still busy with various conspiracy theories (and grousing about the waste of money) regarding Queen Sonia’s inability to choose a proper consort after the recent ball to speculate any further about her intimate life, steadfast in the belief that only more royals, aristocrats, and world leaders would be brought to the Castle for additional social events.

They had no idea how true that would eventually be, at least in regards to foreigners: but mostly those without titles or prestige. Those Sonia and Shirou considered friends. Former Remnant or not, she hardly wanted to be wed in total secrecy.

“But as you probably know, the Castle grounds provide plenty of examples of Novosonian terrain, as well as various animals and plants that call this country home,” She continued, reaching the end of the small wooden bridge. Unlike their previous hike through the woods during her ‘kidnapping,’ she wasn’t laden down with luggage and equipment, making the journey far more pleasant for her.

The fact that they’d finally been honest regarding their feelings also aided in her bright smile in his direction.

“We’ll likely see some skong and makango, if we remain quiet enough. Both of their conservation programs are using some of Castle land for safety and proper monitoring.”

#more-than-a-princess answered #despairfiles #(First Date meme) #(Sorry about the wait on this) #(Only these two could have a 'first date' and Sonia's mind is preoccupied with an eventual wedding) #post neo world program verse

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

the weekly update for 11/28-12/4

I. BIOS

bio released this week: none!

upcoming bios: anna-may parker (18119) / antonia dreykov (mcu) / blackagar boltagon (616) / carmilla black (616) / carol danvers (616)

II. EVENT UPDATES

we’re in the middle of our pleasant hill event and will be having the final ic’s very shortly. we’ll be messaging this week to try and get everyone’s schedule!

III. ACTIVITY

our next activity check is wednesday, february 1st! please see the activity check to see if your roles still need to hit the requirements. roles taken post check are exempt from activity for the month. we’ve also changed our rules up some. please note:

because some are having a hard time hitting activity due to others posting at the last second (we're all guilty of it), we're changing the rule so that 5 posts are due by the activity check and 5 by the end of the month, raising the total number of posts from 5 to 10. 

 secondly, if you were on hiatus and it has ended before the activity check you will be held accountable for activity.  any hiatus ending post mid-month check is exempt. there's a few hiatuses that have ended this month, so make sure you're all set up for activity!

IV. ROLL OUT THE WELCOME MAT

this week we welcomed ava starr (mcu) / drax (mcu) / everett thomas (616) / irene adler (616) / jane foster (mcu) / laura kinney (616) / medusalith amaquelin (616) / phil coulson (aos) / maria hill (616) / raven darkholme (616)

V. MOST WANTED SPOTLIGHT

bennet du paris / charles xavier / kurt wagner -- quiet council

doug ramsey / ororo munro / nathaniel essex -- quiet council pt. 2

eva bell / fabio medina / josh foley -- the five

VI. ODDS & ENDS

make sure your blogs have themes – all blogs are required to have customer themes and not be the /url format. this makes it easier for people to find replies and search. if you need help setting up a theme, please reach out to a mod. we’re happy to help!

ic questionnaires – our ic questionnaire has dropped a while back! although we usually wait for christmas, a recent influx of members has inspired us to release it sooner. we’re asking that members fill out the questionnaire and post them to their blogs. it can be found here!

multiple multiverse roles – as it stands, we are capping it at two versions of the same character being eligible to be taken. that means there can be two wanda maximoffs of different realities, two tony starks, etc. outside of that may be too many of the same role running around. please check the ic page to see if the role you’re interested in is filled.

taking characters – as it stands, we have no character limit. you are are free to take on whatever is sustainable for you. all we ask is that you hit activity each month, and roles who fail to will be unfollowed. please let us know if you need a hiatus. any member on hiatus cannot take a new role until their hiatus is over.

starters –  unless you're a new blog, please do not post a starter unless every other starter in the tag has over ten notes.  one on one starters are definitely welcome and encouraged. the rule applies to all general open starters.

VII. SUMMARY

A. bios - next bio batch announced

B. events - prepping for the event final

C. activity - new activity rules! next activity check / unfollow is 2/1

D. most wanted spotlight - characters we’d like to see

E. odds and ends - themes / questionnaires / starters / oh my!

F. things to look forward to - check out the disney+ guardians holiday special

G.  as always - please like this post so we know you read!

#weekly update #appless rp #bio rpg #discord rp #marvel rp

[dnd-vigilante]

Eastcliff

The Village of Eastcliff

The Village of Eastcliff isn’t old, but it isn’t new either. The Village itself was built atop the ruins of an ancient temple overlooking an expansive lakefront. A statue as ornate as a living person had been enshrined here, it and whatever else had been here before is now long forgotten. Eastcliff developed around this, expanding in its use of the lake and fertile lands. Time in Eastcliff has always been simple, you worked the fields, you took care of the children, you fished, you worked on the buildings if any were damaged. Life has always been pleasant for Eastcliff for as long as anyone could remember. The travelers known as The Envoys of the Forgotten came and went, Eastcliff never had much to offer them, but the villagers of Eastcliff were always happy to listen to the stories they brought. The Envoys seemed pleased in this, always leaving two days after arriving.

The town is not very large, maybe 70 people are in the village. The village expands over 6 miles, as most of it is farmland. There are three central buildings, the town hall, the mill, and the dock. The rest is farmland.

Everyone in town knows one another, they aren’t distant and gossip as one large family. If you were from another place you have been accepted into this community with open arms.

You have either always been in Eastcliff or have ended up here from a neighboring village. As stated before, magic is not a common thing seen in this world and people may be scared at the sight of it. The town and it’s population is diverse, as races over the last several thousands of years have become more intermingled with one another. This should give you the opportunity to identify as an elf, yet still have human, dwarf, etc potentially in your bloodline. This should only be used as flavor text and you should still decide on what race you are going to play and take those stats.

History:

Eastcliff, the place you all call home.

Carts and the oxen that once drove them lay in pieces scattered about in front of you. The Delvish family. Their colorful clothing made monotone in the pools of blood. The songs that had made you want to dance, to sing out are quiet amidst the choked sobs and muffled screams.

The Delvish, had fallen in with the notion that to protect the interests of their people they would learn magic. They would take up wizardry. As their wagons crossed the Jungles between the Wastes and the ancient ruins to the north, they collected what they could to learn the spells.

You could feel it when things began to turn. Your friends and family getting angry at small things. Hearing their sharp whispers in the night.

Daemons. The night came alive and began to tear at your homes. Living darkness breathing madness and hate. Other villagers shoved you down into the streets of Eastcliff, telling you to be quiet and to hide. You did, and you heard it all. You heard the insanity unfold through the pitched screams, calls to battle, and roars of creatures bent on ending civilizations.

In the silence, you stood outside looking on the ruins of what once was the Delvish Mill. Staring shocked across a field of blood and bodies as the black Dust fell from the sky like snow. You locked eyes with others across the circle, their haunted eyes a mirror of your own. From behind you, figures emerge from the hills. The Envoys of The Forgotten had returned. Their hard faces were cracked with the strain of the moment. They cursed and howled at the Dust Fall, roaring challenge to the Daemons. But it was too late.

The Envoy had learned of the increase in Daemon activity around Eastcliff, and dispatched a squad to root out the cause. They had been fighting in the wake of your town, learning the truth too late. While they destroy the mystic baubles and books collected by The Delvish, they wrap you in cloaks, comforting you and others in town.

Years have passed since this atrocity. The town fears of something happening again.

Government:

Ruled over by a town council.

Places of Note:

Old shrine on the cliff.

Koi in the lake.

The Drowning Koi: Tavern

#Vigilante Gaming #world building

[thexdesk]

Updates from the Island of Krakoa, for classified mutant eyes only & selected Avengers. Date: 6 June 2025. 

IN REGARDS TO PLEASANT HILL ...

Although we have set out to separate ourselves from the issues of humans that do not pertain to us, the X-Force team agreed to send out a small group of operatives on a reconnaissance mission to Pleasant Hill, CT to look into what appeared to be a version of WANDA MAXIMOFF’S Westview. Despite Maximoff’s mutant lineage, we took no responsibility for her actions and considered this to be a cursory check born - in part - from the news that REGAN and MARTINIQUE WYNGARDE were involved. The reports were correct and both Wyngarde sisters were apprehended and brought to Krakoa to be with their father. Please see more on disciplinary behavior below.

Despite instructions to not directly engage, our group was attacked outside the border and some were taken hostage. The team was handpicked by BEAST for the following reasons: CABLE’S ability to teleport for a quick exit, PSYLOCKE’S telepathic abilities and stealth skills, ROGUE’S power mimicry to provide back-up, SCOUT for regeneration and covert-ops training and WOLVERINE for healing and tracking abilities. The decision to send Nathan, Kwannon, Anna-Marie, Gabrielle and Laura was agreed upon by the Quiet Council. Also considered was MAGIK for her teleportation, but it was decided she had Combat Captain duties and her magic made her a liability. MARVEL GIRL, the WHITE QUEEN and CAPTAIN BRITAIN were optioned as telepaths, but it was decided that between the launch of the new X-Men and the upcoming Hellfire Gala the former two were unable to step away from Krakoa and Braddock’s work as Captain Britain prohibits her from interfering in American affairs without authorization. WOLVERINE (Howlett) declined as he has been working on a confidential case for X-Factor.

Only Cable and Rogue returned home with the Wyngarde’s. It was reported that Wolverine and Psylocke were absorbed with Scout going in after them. This has officially become an unauthorized mission, but the Council will not prohibit Scout from retrieving two of our own. KID OMEGA and CABLE are on standby should we make contact inside the town. Please do not attempt to broach the border yourself, or stand against Council Orders if you do so.

IN REGARDS TO DISCIPLINARY ACTIONS...

Following their arrest outside of Pleasant Hill, the Wyngarde Sisters were privately tried in front of the Quiet Council. To our surprise, S.H.I.E.L.D. sent a letter from a lawyer and offered to meet a representative on neutral ground. They argued that no man or woman had been killed and no significant bodily harm had been enacted. Taking that into consideration, the Council had sentenced Regan Wyngarde to a year of probation on the Hellions team, effectively immediately. Because we have less to try Martinique Wyngarde on due to her absence as of late, she has been sentenced to two years of probation and must assist the Hellfire Trading Company in whatever capacity they deem fit. The White Queen will oversee.

There was a recent error in our resurrections. Although rare, they do occur and the Five is not being held culpable. During what should have been a routine resurrection, the wrong DNA was submitted from Mister Sinister’s Lab and MADELYNE PRYOR was returned to life instead. This goes against Council’s deliberation on the resurrection of clones; a topic that has come under debate following the resurrection of Laura Kinney, a Wolverine clone. Despite the genetic original, JEAN GREY, making an official statement that she did not want Pryor resurrected, it was decided that Pryor should be given her memories back instead of either being killed once more or left with no identity. Her place on the Island has not yet been decided.

IN REGARDS TO THE HELLIONS...

The Council recently underwent its quarterly review of the rehabilitation team, the HELLIONS, and have made the following deliberations on the status of each member:

EMPATH - absolutely no progress. lucky he’s not in the hold. the council votes to keep him on the team indefinitely unless something drastic changes. will review at the next annual check-up. (completed by mister sinister)

GREYCROW - pending a continuation of positive improvement, the council will review greycrow’s rehabilitation progress at the biannual check-up, and if it is still positive will phase him off the team by the annual check-up. (completed by nightcrawler)

HAVOK - following positive marks at the last check, the council has been monitoring Havok’s behavior and believe he can be phased off the team by the next check. there was some concern noted about reactions to the resurrection of madelyne pryor, but he is set to have a telepathic wellness check with either braddock, kwannon or grey. (completed by the white queen)

NANNY - it appears the relationship between nanny and orphan maker has devolved some and that has set her progress back. she is not considered to be a candidate for graduation. (completed by storm)

ORPHAN-MAKER - while the council hoped for more progress as orphan maker seems to mature, there has been nothing sufficient to warrant a reevaluation of status. (completed by professor x)

WILD CHILD - recently had a violent episode after running into aurora. not believed to be able to control his animal urges yet and is unfit to reenter mutant society unmonitored. (completed by cypher)

KWANNON has volunteered to continue to lead (pending her return) and MISTER SINISTER will remain as the team benefactor, albeit on probationary terms. 

IN REGARDS TO THE HELLFIRE GALA...

After months of meticulous planning, Emma Frost has announced Krakoa’s first Hellfire Gala. Set to take place in a few months time, it will be the first time that humans are allowed onto the main Island. There will be dancing, drinking and the official celebratory induction of the new X-Men team.

#quiet council #hellions #pleasant hill

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Of Gods and Men: Epilogue

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EPILOGUE:

Jahaan dangled his fishing rod down into the depths of the wondrous Prifddinas waterfall. The waterfall was sky-blue and magical, tumbling down over the mountain and splashing into the lake below. The pool down there was so clear it perfectly reflected the brilliant white clouds above like an impeccable mirror image of the sky. The falls twinkled as sunlight caught the crystal walls of the surrounding buildings and flashed their brilliance into the lake.

The air tasted fresh on Jahaan’s tongue, as nourishing as a glass of iced water. You could smell the purity of the atmosphere, of a little haven attuned with nature, living harmoniously around its elven neighbours.

The crashing cascade of the water was a low hum beneath him, a pleasant swish of waves lapping against the rocks. He heard the sound of children playing in the lake below, giggling and laughing in tune with the sweet chirping of birds.

Perched on his little wooden bridge, Jahaan took in the calming atmosphere with a contented sigh. This was the place he spent most of his days now, ever since the town council agreed to gift him a little house in the Meilyr district, a small token of appreciation for his services to Gielinor. It had been about three months since he was discharged from the hospital, and he hadn’t left Prifddinas since. He didn’t want to.

Jahaan worked part-time in the bait-and-tackle shop in the Meilyr district, and supplemented his income by fishing. They had strange fish in these waters, all making for a strange delicacy. It was an acquired taste at first, the urchins that he caught and cooked, but he slowly got used to them. Once he learned he could put them in soup - creating the best delicacy ever, hill still firmly there to die on - it was a different matter entirely. Lady Heledd had been kind enough to share the recipe with him.

Ozan settled down beside the bridge, still keeping a slight distance between himself and Jahaan. “Hey, Ariane’s finished setting up the picnic if you wanna come join us?”

Ozan was adapting to life as a wight quicker than anticipated. The inability to eat grated on him the most, and his appearance would occasionally frighten the elven children. It took awhile to convince the locals he wasn’t a zombie. Said locals referred to him as ‘marwwr’, not really a term of endearment but a factual statement that, yes, he was a deadman. Ozan got used to it though, taking it in good humour.

He and Ariane didn’t exactly want to relocate to Prifddinas, but ended up doing so anyway. Unfortunately, west of the River Lum, those of the undead variety weren’t particularly welcome in towns and cities. At least in Prifddinas, Ozan had Jahaan, the town elders, and even Seren to vouch for him. As for Ariane, thanks to teleportation, it was easy to commute to the Wizards’ Tower for work. There, she and a handful of other wizards were starting to look into a cure for Ozan’s affliction, but hopes weren’t high as of yet.

Coal wasn’t a big fan of Prifddinas once he figured out that crystal was too tough to eat, and most of the structures and tools in the city were made out of such a material.

Nudging closer to Jahaan, but never too close, Ozan motioned with his head to the female fisherman perched on the rock opposite Jahaan, the one with brunette bangs who’s eyes kept flicking in the World Guardian’s direction.

“Psst,” Ozan whispered with a mischievous smirk. “I think she’s checking you out.”

Jahaan looked over at the elf in question, but she quickly glanced away with a sheepish smile.

Turning back to Ozan, Jahaan grinned and said, “Drop dead Ozan.”

“Already did, Jahaan.”

“Encore.”

Then there was a laugh, but it wasn’t Jahaan’s or Ozan’s, and it echoed throughout Jahaan’s mind. He shook his head to clear it.

This had happened before, many times. Jahaan had a theory, but he shared it with no-one. After all, a pleasant lie was far better than an unpleasant truth.

What he didn’t know was, some of those around him had the exact same theory.

There were differences he noticed ever since he woke up inside that Prifddinas hospital bed. He could sense auras around people, dark shadows that lurked around their being. Sometimes the world had slightly muted colours, like he was unconsciously slipping into the Shadow Realm, something he never intended to do again.

But the main difference he noticed was the voice inside his head, a new voice that was certainly not his own.

It was there during the menial and mundane, there during the trials and tribulations. It talked to him, and talked AT him. Reassuring occasionally, mocking often, but not necessarily at his expense. It commented on things, laughed at other people’s jokes.

Sometimes it even sang.

At first it disturbed him, but as he became more and more used to its presence, it stopped bothering him so much. Sometimes, when it was quiet, Jahaan missed it.

But late at night, when he tried to go to sleep, the familiar laugh would always return...

...and when no-one was around…

...Jahaan would laugh back.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

Previous chapter

#of gods and men #it's been a wild ride guys #ty all so much!

[chrysalispen]

xix. all white with wreath and spray

AO3 Link here

splitting into two parts for length, the next part will be up in a day or two

===

 Aurelia’s booted feet crunched through the thin layer of powder snow as she adjusted the bundle of fallen wood on her back. Given the conjurers’ tenuous peace brokered with the elementals, the city’s inhabitants were rationing: they were to collect only those things which nature had already shed, and that bounty in itself was limited. Despite the fact it was mid-morning, the Shroud was as still and quiet as an open grave. 

Winter had come to the wood, and with it, the hardships borne of poor harvests across all of Eorzea. 

The forest’s predators, deprived of their seasonal food sources, soon became a common danger on the roads, and with the Greenwrath so newly quelled the forest was still volatile and hazardous. The city council had done as much to prepare the townspeople and the land itself for the cold months as they were able in the time they had, but their efforts had still fallen short and the outbreak of flux among incoming refugees had strained Gridania’s supplies further. Many people had been forced to winter in unfinished houses or had taken up with friends and neighbors in what space was available.

J’nehda’s ‘storms’ had more trouble yet to presage, so it seemed. 

“Are you not cold, Miss Conjurer?” 

She glanced over her shoulder. Keveh’to was shivering visibly, his tail wrapped close about one leg when he wasn’t moving, looking quite put out indeed. He had also drawn his shortbow, though either of them had yet to see any game worth the marking. 

“Hm? No, I’m well, thank you.” She wore a fleece-lined doublet, leather breeches, a pair of old cotton gloves, and knee-high doeskin boots beneath one of Miounne’s traveling cloaks - along with, of course, the ubiquitous oversized head covering intended to conceal her third eye. Overall, it was far lighter attire than the heavy parkas and thick boots most Gridanians had donned. “Do you want to borrow my cloak?”

He squinted at her as though she’d asked him to wear one of her dresses. “I’m fine too,” he said, somewhat defiantly. “Just…  not used to the snow, is all. We rarely get it this far south.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“Garlemald is very cold, I hear.”

“Yes, it is.” She bent forward with a soft grunt and dropped her bundle to the ground in favor of the medium-sized branch she’d sighted half-buried under snowfall and dead leaves. “We measure snowfall in fulms, rather than ilms. And it stays on the ground a good long while.”

“How long is ‘a good long while’?”

“Mmm... I should say usually around six, mayhap seven months- er, moons out of the year? ‘Tis longer on occasion, should the season prove particularly brutal.”

“Seven moons of winter?” Keveh’to echoed, horrified. “Seven moons of snow and ice--”

“Aye. And barely any light. And gales that could tear the skin off a gigas.”

“How do you survive it up there?”

“We almost didn’t.”

“By the gods, no wonder you lot want to spread out over the whole bloody star. I’d be keen on beachfront property myself if I lived in the depths of the fourth hell.” 

Aurelia began to laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

The Miqo’te’s consternation gave way to widened eyes and an embarrassed flush when he realized what he’d said. 

“Er. I- that... wasn’t the most, er... tactful... way I could have phrased that, I suppose. Sorry.”

She raised one booted foot and kicked the side of the branch. The blow dislodged a wet clump of white powder, shaking it onto the leaves below like confectioners’ sugar onto toast. 

“You’ve no need to apologize. The capitol is bloody awful. If I had my say I would much prefer Ala Mhigo. It’s hot as blazes in the summer, but at least you don’t run the risk of instant frostbite.”

“What is Ala Mhigo like? I hear the refugees talk about it sometimes when they think other folk aren’t in earshot. Curious. Like they don’t want none of us overhearing.” He fidgeted, hopping from one foot to the other, and she couldn’t tell if he was uncomfortable or simply trying to ward off the chill. “...You don’t have to talk about it either, you know, if you’d rather not.”

“In truth, I’ve naught of interest to share.” Aurelia shrugged. “There is precious little I could tell that you wouldn’t hear from the refugees and you’d learn more of their native land from them than you would from someone like me. Ala Mhigo was my childhood home but I’m the first to admit I saw very little outside my father’s villa, and that was by design, I'm certain.” 

“Mm,” Keveh’to said, absently. “Mayhap you’re right.”

A not-insignificant part of her hoped he was simply attempting to make conversation. She was reluctant to face the censure she was sure she would see in his eyes did he chance to speak to the refugees as she had suggested, but what else was there to say? Most of her memories of Gyr Abania were very personal and very limited. 

“...We should be getting back.”

“Do you need me to carry that?” he asked.

“I can do it.”

“But-”

She cast him a brittle smile before lifting the branch and tossing it in the bundle with the others, then rearranged the hempen wrap so that the weight was equally distributed and none of the larger pieces would fall before folding the corners, grasping the fabric, and hoisting her burden back over one shoulder. 

They trudged back towards the city, the only sound to be heard the crunch of dead leaves and powder beneath their feet, before Keveh’to finally said, “Forgive me, Aurelia. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I know you didn’t,” she said. “I am sorry. Perhaps I do feel a bit nostalgic.”

“For this?”

“Of course not, but... “ She adjusted the weight she carried on her back and paused. “...there are things I miss. Small things, you know. Luxuries that one takes for granted.”

“Such as?”

“My garden, for one.”

“Your... “ He trailed off, but she saw the light go on behind his eyes when she glanced back in his direction. 

The laugh she granted him was a light and silvery thing, spilling across the snow like a sunbeam. “You heard correctly. I had a garden back in Garlemald."

Aurelia would have said 'home,' did the utterance of that word not stick so securely in her craw. Garlemald was many things, but a home had never been one of them.

"A proper garden, then? Like with roses and such?"

"Yes. It belonged to my aunt, really. But she would much rather look at the flowers than grow them herself. I feel a similar sort of… I don’t know. Peace? Serenity? As close as one can get to those things when I’m about the woods gathering.”

“...all right, now I get it. I thought it was passing strange you would be as interested in botany as you are."

"Mhm."

"But if you had a- ...but wait, how’d you have a bleeding garden ‘n all, if the weather’s like this all the blasted time?”

Aurelia shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Magitek.”

“I don’t follow.” 

“There was a greenhouse on my uncle’s grounds. It had heat lamps set to cycle every eight bells, and an environmental control system that- …ah,” she stammered, seeing his blank and uncomprehending stare, “never mind.”

Keveh’to did not respond. Aurelia could feel his confused gaze still boring into her back as they continued up the hill onto the path. 

She flushed, thinking that of course her attempt at explanation would have made little sense to him. Most parts of the star had no access to magitek so it was still a rare and fantastic novelty without the Empire’s borders, and Eorzea’s smallfolk most certainly would not have access to such wonders. 

Even in Garlemald a self-sustaining greenhouse to preserve perennials was very much a luxury, one afforded only to the wealthy: usually, albeit not always, peers of the imperial aristocracy. But she had loved her aunt Marcella’s greenhouse. Its unique heating system had originated as a student project, one of many annual exhibition entries at the Magitek Academy. Quite often, winning projects were put to practical use whether by the government or by the creators themselves, and in this instance the student's work had been noticed by her uncle. He had gladly improved upon his prototype for the commission. 

Her uncle Janus had bragged that the unit was one of a kind because the young man had elected to join the imperial army upon completing his studies, no doubt to build weapons for the legions afield. ‘Twas hardly an uncommon story, he had said with a shrug. There was more profit - and personal glory - in innovating warmachina for imperial conquest than in customizing heating systems for a rich man’s rose gardens.

Aurelia could not take comfort in his explanation, saddened as she was. That a man capable of creating daily wonders for the purpose of preserving living things would be able to turn his obviously brilliant mind towards such callous and violent ends - it defied her understanding. 

As was the case with most of her recollections of her years spent in the capitol, even the relatively pleasant memory of her aunt's flowers was bittersweet.

“I… I think I’m a bit chilled after all,” Aurelia lied. She plucked the hood of the cloak from her back and draped it over her head until the top half of her face was all but concealed from view. Frost spilled forth from her lips in a white cloud. “Let’s hurry along. I’ve a mind for some tea.”

She swallowed back the harsh lump she could feel forming in her throat, unwilling to grant it any further leave for expression.

~*~

Miounne was waiting at the staff entrance upon their arrival: wiping her hands in the fabric of her apron, eyes fixed upon the pair. Aurelia shrugged the heavy bundle from her shoulders as if it were feather-light and raised a gloved hand in greeting. 

“Welcome back, you two. A decent haul this morning?”

“Decent enough.” She lifted the first branch from the top of the pile and dragged it to the stump they had been using to roughly cut the scavenged tree falls for firewood. “I know we’re a bit late returning, but the Sergeant thought he saw something fit for the stewpot. We’ll have this set up for you in just a-”

“Ah… one moment, if you please,” Miounne said, and Aurelia’s outstretched hand froze in the act of reaching for the wood-axe. “I’ll get one of the lads inside to cut the wood.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Keveh’to frowned, dusting a thin layer of snow from his lapels, “but is there some reason why we can’t just go on and do it ourselves?”

“Your presence has been requested. Or rather, Aurelia’s presence has been requested. E-Sumi-Yan asked that I send you along to the Fane as soon as I could.”

...The guildmaster? 

Cautiously she studied the woman’s face. She didn’t trust unexpected summons of any sort, never had- but, she realized, Miounne was smiling. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be that unpleasant. “Did he happen to elaborate?”

“No, but I don’t doubt he will explain himself in full when you arrive.”

All… right then. She glanced at Keveh’to. 

“I assume he’s allowed to come along.”

“Of course.”

Few souls had braved the outdoors this morning- owing largely, Aurelia suspected, to the snow. This part of Eorzea was quite temperate, more so even than Mor Dhona, and snow was a rare enough occurrence that people tended to take to their hearths upon the slightest dusting of white upon the stones. 

In truth ‘twas less the weather she found refreshing than the empty streets. In the wake of the increasing food shortage the people of Gridania - already rather inclined towards isolationist behavior - spared few quests and even less coin for Miounne’s adventurers while treating refugees and prisoners of war with barely concealed contempt.

But tension aside, the city was as quiet as the forest. No one accosted or addressed them as they made their way down the snow-lined paths. The only sounds were birds and the soft rhythm of their breathing, and the quiet crunch of their footsteps upon ice and loose gravel. 

Even the Fane seemed all but deserted. The sight of the tree filled her with the same dread it always did - but there was a measure of relief as well, for Brother E-Sumi-Yan stood before the entrance holding a neatly wrapped paper parcel in his youthful hands.

“Good morning, Aurelia. Mother Miounne told me she had sent the two of you on your way,” he said, beaming at her. “Come, let’s sit and take tea here by the brazier. ‘Tis a most bracing morning, is it not? I'm afraid all I have in my larder at the moment is chamomile tea, but I was preparing to break my fast. Both of you are welcome to join me if you haven’t already partaken.”

There was chamomile tea with mint, and spiced frumenty, and even- to Keveh’to’s undisguised delight- venison sausages. E-Sumi-Yan speared three onto each plate alongside a small slice of tomato and three coarse-cut pieces of wheaten apiece. 

“Twelve,” the Miqo’te said, his voice trembling, “that’s real bleedin’ honey, too.”

She felt her mouth water as she stared at the plating. It was as much food in one sitting as either of them had had all week, and she suspected the guildmaster had been well aware of it.

“Where did you...” Aurelia began. 

“From my own cold pantry, never fear. I rarely have guests and eat very little on my own, but seeing as this is a special occasion I can hardly be stingy.” He gestured to the unadorned smooth stones about the brazier. “Please. Sit. Eat. I have a matter I must needs discuss, and by its nature, it concerns you both.”

Gratefully she began to dig into the meal, with Keveh’to doing the same at her side. She ate neatly and carefully, trying to make it last. After so long with only a small cupful of oats a day, the Guildmaster’s spread was like unto the feasts at her aunt’s dinner parties.

Her minder - possessed of no such sensibilities - wolfed down the sausages practically whole, his tail slapping cheerfully against the ground.

“What did you wish to discuss, E-Sumi-Yan?” she asked, curling her fingers around the warm teacup after a long and contented sip. 

The fresh-faced Padjal - who ate as carefully as she did, his attention to social etiquette equally conscientious - likewise balanced his cup upon his knee. “Your basic lessons have progressed with remarkable speed,” he began. “In truth, you have taken more quickly to mastery of your own aether than many who have spent the entirety of their lives beneath the Twelveswood’s boughs.”

Aurelia flushed despite herself. How long had it been since she’d heard genuine praise from anyone that hadn’t seemed perfunctory, or given under duress?

“I... thank you,” she said, unable to meet his calm grey eyes, and hastily took another sip of her tea. “It has been no simple task, as you know. I am sure I have much still and more to learn.”

“I quite agree. But I think it is time you continued your studies- in the field. I’ve a mind to send you to the Arbor. There are outlying settlements there in need of our aid.”

“Truly? I had not thought that any of the current Hearers would be willing to, er...”

His answering smile was serene. “Take you on as an apprentice conjurer?” 

“....Well, now you mention it, yes, precisely so. I realize the rank and file would have no idea, but the Hearers must surely know the truth. I can't imagine any of them would take kindly to a Garlean woman as an apprentice.”

“You are, unfortunately, correct in assuming that few would be willing. However, the individual overseeing the region where I would send you has little choice but to accept you.” 

Keveh’to scoffed. “That bad?”

“Bad?” E-Sumi-Yan laughed. “You misunderstand, Sergeant. No, this is simply a matter of life events necessitating a change. His apprentice is due to be wed in the next two moons and he is aging out of the field himself, and at present I have no other novitiates better suited for the position. I would have you assist him with the villagers’ needs as well as those of the forest. He will require aid whether he is desirous of your help or not.”

Aurelia grimaced. 

“I need hardly say this does little to inspire one’s confidence.”

“I do not doubt you will face difficulties initially. That said, I think you will ingratiate yourself to them in due time. Our people are insular and often slow to trust outsiders to the Twelveswood, that much I will allow. But they are not so foolish as to ignore a helping hand indefinitely. No matter the form it takes.”

With a sigh she set the cup back in its saucer and placed it in the empty place sitting on her left. It made a soft, chiming rattle against the stone.

“You are asking me,” she said, “to subject myself to their likely censure.” 

“Yes,” E-Sumi-Yan replied. He didn’t bat an eye, nor appear the least bit sorry for it. “I think it will not be as dire as you fear. Truly, this might even be a valuable lesson for all concerned. Yourself included. And you will have Sergeant Epocan there if-”

This time it was Keveh’to’s turn to flinch.

“No offense, Guildmaster,” he said. “Due respect and all that, but... you know full well how most of your folk feel about Keepers.”

“It will be made clear to the Hearer that you are there on an official assignment,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. The Miqo’te’s shoulders hunched defensively, but he didn’t retort. “At any rate, preparations are being made. The Elder Seedseer has given her authorization and asks that you accompany Aurelia to her new position. If the powers that be feel she is not a flight risk, I see no reason to delay the process.”

The woman in question had turned her gaze to the snow-covered clearing, watching two small sparrows clean themselves in the powder with a flurry of their little brown feathers.

“Well,” the Garlean said at length, once she realized all eyes were upon her. “Suffice to say: I have precious little if any say in this affair, being a captive audience in every meaningful sense. So, I will keep any further observations to myself. Should you believe my current skillsets might be put to better use elsewhere, then that is sufficient and I will abide by your judgment -- and that of the Elder Seedseer’s as well, I suppose.”

His small brow wrinkled at her reply, noncommittal as she knew it was. 

“Aurelia, this isn’t the army. You do have some say in whence you go.”

“Again, whether or not I might mislike the assignment does not factor into such matters. You have my compliance regardless.”

“Be that as it may-”

“Guildmaster, your thoughtfulness in asking for my input is appreciated, but you and I both know it is unnecessary.” Her slim shoulders lifted and dropped, as if the outcome made no difference to her either way. “I shall await orders.”

“I will send word along when all is made ready,” E-Sumi-Yan said at length. 

He did not speak his reservations aloud. That he sounded none too pleased warranted no comment.

#reborn by fire #chapter 19 #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Art Of Remembrance (Part 24)

This boat ride is significantly more pleasant than the trip to the island. This time she is unbound and free to roam the ship as she pleases. She thinks that this might possibly be the first pleasant experience that she has had on a boat. For the time being, she is the only one awake. Supposedly, firebenders are early to rise, but the sun hasn’t yet risen. She hopes that Sokka won’t be too disappointed to find himself alone in the room. It had simply become too stuffy in there for her; Azula has come to decide that she doesn’t have a particular love for cramped spaces. Looking out at the open ocean, she decides that she isn’t very fond of vast spaces either. The lapping waves remind her too much of the rolling hills of snow but with white traded for blue.

She has to admit, for as nerve wracking as it is, it is pretty. The reflection of the deep indigo of early morning. A tinge of sunlight gold, puts a glimmer in the water. If the boat weren’t rocking so heavily, Azula would lean against the rail and peer into the depths.

In her head she runs over a list of tasks to be done, though there isn’t much that she can complete when confined to a boat in the middle of the ocean. She has already told Zuko of the organization and--just in case it hadn’t been brought up in Yu-Kang’s promised council meeting, Sokka has informed him of Jeong Jeong’s fate. Azula has also declared that they should have a second meeting to discuss the Vine Research Facility and their possible whereabouts.

Today’s agenda will mostly consist of laying down a full and sturdy plan, she has the basic makings of one already, but she should like to fine tune them. Ideally the Fire Nation’s military will scope out the tundra for the facility and storm it. They will collect research notes and she will use them to make her mind whole again.

“So...are we going to tell Zuko about, you know…?”

Azula jolts. Telling Zuko about how close she had let herself grow to Sokka is most certainly not on her list of tasks. “Why should we?” She isn’t sure that it is anything noteworthy enough to share at all. One small and rather impulsive peck on the cheek isn’t much to fuss over.

“I don’t know, because he’s your brother.”

“Yes, exactly.” Azula replies. “There isn’t much to tell anyhow.” Deciding that she has someone to keep the boat from pitching her overboard, she leans back against the railing.

“I’d want to know if my sister was kissing someone!”

Azula rolls her eyes. “So you can what, wave your boomerang in their face?”

“That’s right!” He declares boldly. He is spirited, she’ll give him that.

“It was one small kiss, Sokka.” She shrugs. She isn’t sure if it could even be called a kiss. “It isn’t anything noteworthy. Now quiet down and watch with me.” She turns around to face the sunrise and pats the rail next to her.

Sokka sighs audibly and comes to stand next to her, dangling his arms over the banister. She notices that he has taken the time to trim and sculpt his formerly scraggly beard. He smells like the ocean spray.

.oOo.

All in all, the princess looks rather happy. At the very least, she looks tranquil. The gold of the rising sun gives her face a certain radiance. She hasn’t yet combed her hair nor put on her makeup. He still isn’t used to seeing her anything less than perfectly groomed.

“It isn’t anything noteworthy at all?” He quirks a brow.

Deep down, he hopes that she will ask him if he wants it to be. Instead she, almost too cheerfully, replies, “nope, not particularly.” Somehow, he is also relieved. Simple. It is much simpler this way.

He tells himself that he still loves Suki. That when he gets a chance, he will try to rekindle things with her. That he will assure her that they can make time for each other no matter how much effort it takes.

“Are you alright?” Azula asks.

“Just thinking.” He replies.

“About?”

“Just...what I’m going to do when this is all over.”

.oOo.

“Did they treat you well?” Zuko asks in between forkfuls of dumplings.

“Well enough.” Azula replies. All things considered, she had been kept rather comfortable. But then, her standards have lowered significantly as far as institutions go. “How are things at home?” She can’t quite bring herself to ask if the others have mentioned her at all.

“Hectic.” Zuko replies. “With Jeong Jeong and Chan dead and you going missing for so long, people are starting to get scared. The nobles anyways. I’ve got all of the imperial firebenders on full alert but that isn’t helping much.”

“I’m sure that they’ll feel better once we establish a solid plan. Rather, once you agree to my plan.”

“You already have a plan?” He asks. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” He adds with a laugh.

“Was I good at planning things?” “You were, like, a mastermind!” Sokka interrupts. “It was kind of your thing. And mine, I was the idea guy of my group too. So it was interesting trying to out plan you.”

“Failing to out plan me.” She corrects. “Anyhow, it’s isn’t a complete plan but it is a start. I know that I was held in the Southern Water Tribe and I was in a compound close enough to the village to survive a blizzard. Though, I presume that the Vine Research Facility has probably vacated it by now, unless they have assumed that I’d gotten myself killed.”

“So we might have surprise on our side?” Zuko inquires.

Azula nods, “perhaps, if they haven’t relocated. So we will have a team comb the tundra for the facility when the weather is stable enough. Dr. Yu-Kang mentioned a Lake Laogai, we will also search there. And we should try to find the place where they harvest their spirit vines from, they probably frequent the place.”

“The Foggy Swamp.” Sokka puts in. When she shoots him a questioning look he adds. “There’s this banyan tree and its roots, they do all kinds of crazy things. They can make you hallucinate and they can mess with your chi.”

“Well then we should probably send a team to the Foggy Swamp as well.” Azula declares. “With luck we can uncover their research notes; we can put a stop to whatever they plan on using their findings for and I can get my memories back.” She folds her hands atop the table. “It’s simple really.” Simple save for that she still isn’t sure that her memories will benefit her at all anymore. She tries not to dwell much on the possibility of scrambling her mind even further or erasing her new memories. And these memories are ones that she shouldn’t like to lose.  

“I think that, that sounds manageable.” Zuko replies.

“Good.” She nods. “I am hoping to get things in motion as soon as we get back.”

“You really want your memories back.” Sokka mutters.

“I really want to see that organization disassembled.” She clarifies. The sooner she can be rid of them, the sooner much of her anxiety will be alleviated. “I’d like to shut them down before they have another shot at me.”

She catches Zuko staring at the scars on her arms, his lips press into a thin line. “Yeah, I’d like to keep that from happening too.” She catches a twinge of fury in his soft golden eyes. “Trust me, they won’t have a second chance.”

She doesn’t doubt his sincerity. The sheer seething in his eyes when she’d first showed him the scars had been almost palpable. She very nearly covered them up again on the spot. Now he looks at her with pity. She doesn’t particularly like this, it makes her feel somehow helpless. “I’m fine.” She mutters. “You don’t need to look at me like that.”

He chuckles. “Sorry, I forgot that you don’t like that.”

Azula finishes her platter of dumplings and pushes it to the side. “Don’t worry about it.” She stands and pushes her chair in. “I’d like to get some sleep in before we begin tomorrow.” As she passes Sokka, she gives his hand a light tug.

“But I’m not done eating!”

She rolls her eyes, “you’re never done eating.”

“What do you need Sokka for?”

“I have trouble sleeping, sometimes Sokka stays in my room with me.” Though, lately, sometimes has become all the time.

“Fine.” He grumbles and pushes his dumplings aside.

She makes Sokka wait outside while she slips into her silk night robes. She gives a satisfied sigh as she smoothes her hands over the fabric. This fits her much better than the institution attire. It doesn’t drag and bury her in its excess cloth. She revels in its comforts for a moment longer before beckoning Sokka inside. She might just get some decent sleep tonight if she can ignore the rocking and undulating of the ship.

.oOo.

Once again, he watches the princess tuck herself in. He hopes that tonight will be nightmare free. Just maybe she is cozy enough to sleep through the night, she sure looks it. He arranges his pillows and blankets on the chair.

Azula’s brows knit. “Why are you all the way over there?”

“Your brother will kick my ass if he catches me in bed with you, clothes or no clothes.” He expects her to crinkle her nose, like she always does when he says something stupid, at the notion of them laying in bed with no clothes. But she doesn’t phased by it at all. She simply pats the spot next to her as she always does. “Alright, I’m coming.”

She gives a delighted little grin and makes room for him. It is becoming routine now, and he thinks that he also sleeps better with company. For the better part of the night they lay facing away from each other. Eventually he rolls to face her and later she shifts to face him.

And when she thinks that he is asleep, she slides her hand over his and intertwines their fingers.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Zuko #Fanfiction