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fictitioustale · 7 months

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PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS

>INTRODUCTION.EXE

Although it’s not a big must to include a vivid description of your character, it would be ideal because if you don’t, your reader will form his/her own impression which creates a problem if later the character is described, making the reader have to adjust their thinking to suit the description which should never happen.

Little reminders of different physical attributed, habits, gestures, etc., combined with action add to the feel of the character, making them ‘living and breathing beings.’ Some writers may not describe their character and leave it up to the readers to form their own image but remember, this is your canvas, your characters! And they should be imagined the way you have them visualized in your head.

Here are a few words to help with your descriptions:

>EYES [GENERAL]

Small, narrow, sharp, squinty, round, wide-set, close-set, deep-set, sunken, bulging, protruding, wide, hooded, heavy-lidded, bedroom, bright, dull, sparkling, glittering, flecked, bleary, rheumy, cloudy, red-rimmed, beady, bird-like, cat-like, jewel-like, steely, hard, fringed with long lashes, with sweeping lashes, with thick lashes.

>EYES [COLOR]

Chestnut, chocolate, brown, cocoa brown, mocha, mahogany, sepia, siena brown, minx brown, copper, amber, cognac, whiskey, brandy, honey, tawny, topaz, hazel, obsidian, onyx, coal, raven, midnight, sky blue, arctic blue, sunny blue, crystal blue, cerulean, electric blue, azure, lake blue, aquamarine, turquoise, denim blue, slate blue/slate gray, storm blue/storm gray, silver blue/silver gray, ash gray, chrome, platinum, pewter, smoky gray, dove gray, shark gray, fog gray, gunmetal gray, olive, emerald, leaf green, moss green.

>EYEBROWS

Arched, straight, plucked, sparse, trim, dark, faint, thin, thick, unruly, bushy, heavy.

>NOSE

Snub, dainty, button, turned-up, long, broad, thin, straight, pointed, crooked, aquiline, roman, bulbous, flared, hawk, strong.

>MOUTH/LIPS

Thin, narrow, full, lush, cupids bow, rosebud, dry, cracked, chapped, moist, glossy, straight teeth, gap between teeth, gleaming white teeth, overbite, underbite.

>FACIAL HAIR

Clean-shaven, smooth-shaven, beard, moustache, neckbeard, goatee, sideburns, mutton-chop sideburns, stubble a few days' growth of beard, five o' clock shadow.

>SKIN [COLOR]

black, brown, beige, white, pink, umber, sepia, ochre, russet, terra-cotta, gold, tawny, taupe, khaki, fawn, yellow, golden, copper, olive, bronze, orange, orange-red, coral, pink, red, blue, blue-red, rose, magenta, sapphire, silver, straw hay, beach, sand, mountain cliff, field, sunlight, sunrise, sunset, afterglow, dawn, day, daybreak, desert, clay, fall, autumn leaves, twilight, calla lilies, western coneflower, hazel fay, hibiscus, freesia, rose, cattails, seashell, driftwood, pinecone, acorn, amber, mahogany, walnut, chestnut, golden oak, ash, platinum, copper, brass, gold, bronze, onyx, obsidian, sard, topaz, carnelian, smoky quartz, rutile, pyrite, citrine, gypsum, ebony, golden, pale, pallid, pasty, fair, light, cream, alabaster, ivory, bisque, porcelain, chalky, sallow, peach

>SKIN [GENERAL]

Lined, wrinkled, seamed, leathery, sagging, loose, drooping, clear, smooth, silken, sating, dry, flaky, delicate, thin, translucent, luminescent, baby-soft, flawless, poreless, with large pores, glowing, dewy, dull, velvety, fuzzy, rough, uneven, mottled, dimpled, doughy, firm, freckled, pimply, pockmarked, blemished, pitted, scarred, bruised, veined, scratched, sunburned, weather-beaten, raw, tattooed.

>FACE [STRUCTURE]

Square, round, oblong, oval, elongated, narrow, heart-shaped, cat-like, wolfish, high forehead, broad forehead, prominent brow ridge, protruding brow bone, sharp cheekbones, high cheekbones, angular cheekbones, hollow cheeks, square jaw, chiseled, sculpted, craggy, soft, jowly, jutting chin, pointed chin, weak chin, receding chin, double chin, cleft chin, dimple in chin, visible Adams apple.

>HANDS

Delicate, small, large, square, sturdy, smooth, rough, calloused, elegant, plump, manicured, stubby fingers, long fingers, ragged nails, grimy fingernails, ink-stained.

>HAIR [GENERAL]

Long, short, shoulder-length, loose, limp, dull, shiny, glossy, sleek, smooth, luminous, lustrous, spiky, stringy, shaggy, tangled, messy, tousled, windblown, unkempt, bedhead, straggly, neatly combed, parted, slicked down/slicked back, cropped, slipped, buzzed/buzz cut, crewcut, bob, mullet, curly, bushy, frizzy, wavy, straight, lanky, dry, oily, greasy, layers, corkscrews, spirals, ringlets, braids, widows peak, bald, shaved, comb-over, afro, thick, luxuriant, voluminous, full, wild, untamed, bouncy, wispy, fine, thinning.

>HAIR [COLOR]

Black, blue-black, jet black, raven, ebony, inky black, midnight, sable, salt and pepper, silver/silver gray, charcoal gray, steel gray, white, snow-white, brown, brunette, chocolate brown, coffee brown, ash brown, brown sugar, nut brown, tawny brown, toffee brown, red, ginger, auburn, titian-haired, copper, strawberry blonde, butterscotch, honey, blonde, golden, wheat, sandy blonde, flaxen, fair-haired, bleached, platinum.

>BODY TYPE [GENERAL]

Tall, average height, short, petite, tiny, compact, big, large, burly, beefy, bulky, brawny, barrel-chested, heavy/heavy set, fat, overweight, obese, flabby, chubby, pudgy, pot-bellied, portly, thick, stoat, lush, plush, full-figured, ample, rounded, generous, voluptuous, curvy, hourglass, plump, leggy/long legged, gangling, lanky, coltish, lissome, willowy, lithe, lean, slim, slender, trim, thin, skinny, emaciated, gaunt, bony, spare, solid, stocky, wiry, rangy, sinewy, stringy, ropy, sturdy, strapping, powerful, hulking, fit, athletic, toned, built, muscular, chiseled, taut, ripped, herculean, broad-shouldered, sloping shoulders, bowlegged.

>SKIN [GENERAL]

>OUTRODUCTION.EXE

As a writer, writing character descriptions is important because you are painting the canvas for your readers and no artist leaves any details out. Some ways to write strong characters is starting with physical appearance; since literature is non-visual, a picture is the first step towards building your characters development and instead of focusing on monotone words, choose the adjectives that stand out to you and really go along with the image you have in mind about your character, and think of the characters interests and hobbies; if you mention that your character likes harry potter, your readers might imagine them with some sort of accessory in their outfit that represent him.

Of course, in our life, we see many different people, with many different traits and features, so why not use them? Practicing writing character descriptions that fit the people in your life is a great way to make the description flow easily especially if there was a person who really caught your eye, and you still remember them. Writing descriptions that feature your friends and family will make it easier for you because you’ve spent so much time with them. So try to make a list of possible physical traits and character traits that you’ve observed in your life, like when you meet someone new, what’s the first thing you notice? Think of your first impressions of people and create your own person.

#writing #descriptions #physical appearance #eyes #noses #mouths #ears

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marbleandgranitedesigns · 11 months

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BRONZE MARBLE Its aesthetic power is only equalled by its resilience, forged over millions of years. Bronze marble is the most beautiful titan of the Levantina collection. On the surface, the white seams that splinter a golden ochre background compete for prominence with subtle blurred black streaks. Bronze marble boasts the aged gold colour of [...] . . . Read more: https://www.marbleandgranitedesigns.co.uk/bronze-marble?utm_source=Tumblr&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=fsp . . . #MGD #kitchenworktops #marble #granite #quartz #porcelain #worktops #flooring #kitchens #bathrooms #quartzworktops #dekton #silestone #herefordshire #mgd

#BROWN_MARBLE #BROWN #MARBLE #NATURAL_STONE

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beautytreats · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 4pcs Natural Gemstone Handmade Pendant Set.

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johnaleitner · 2 years

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Dekton

Dekton by Cosentino Product Review

Dekton is an ultra-resistant surface created by Cosentino, a company with more than 43 years of experience in the industry. Dekton is made from a blend of raw materials, including quartz, porcelain, and glass, ground down and combined with pigments to create a beautiful and durable product. Cosentino uses a revolutionary high-tech process to create these beautiful surfaces with unrivalled performance. Dekton is an ideal surface material for both indoor and outdoor use. It is stain-resistant, scratch-resistant, and heat-resistant. In this article, we will take a closer look at some of the features and benefits of Dekton and reveal our favourite collection of Dekton.

Product Review of Dekton surfaces – Quick takeaways

Dekton is a sophisticated blend of raw materials used to produce ultracompact surfaces with a process called TSP.

TSP is a unique method of manufacturing that makes Dektons stronger than steel.

Dekton is made of 20 different raw materials under extreme heat and pressure. The main three components are quartz, porcelain, and glass.

Dekton is suitable for both interior and exterior applications. It is also ideal for both residential and commercial applications.

Dekton comes in large format slabs. A large slab means fewer seams and usually no seams on kitchen islands.

Dekton is non-porous and stain, scratch, and UV resistant.

Dekton is tremendous at resisting abrasion.

Dekton has a very low coefficient of thermal expansion, which makes the surface resistant to damage by extreme heat and cold.

Dekton does not require sealing or maintenance.

Dekton is an eco-friendly product.

What are Dekton countertops made of?

Dekton is made from a mixture of more than 20 natural products using TSP technology. TSP stands for “Technology of Sinterized Particles,” allowing Dekton to produce high-quality products with great precision. The process is based on putting the materials under extreme pressure and temperature. TSP is an accelerated (4-hour process) version of the metamorphic process that creates a strong bond between the individual components in the mixture. TSP involves heating raw materials to over two thousand degrees Fahrenheit and pressing them with 25,000 tons of uniform pressure. The result is an ultracompact surface that is indestructible. This ultra-compaction allows for unique colours and veining, which make this material stand out from other stone surfaces. The 4-hour TSP process is equivalent to thousand years of metamorphic changes that natural stone undergoes under heat and pressure in nature.

Cosentino is Environmentally and sustainably cautious.

Cosentino, the company that produces Dekton, is environmentally and sustainably cautious. Cosentino is always looking for new ways to reduce its energy consumption and decrease its carbon footprint. For example, they use 100% renewable energy to power their factories. They also participate in reforestation projects to help offset the carbon dioxide emitted by their factories. Furthermore, they use recycled materials in the production of Dekton surfaces. Cosentino strives to minimize our environmental footprint at every production stage while maintaining strict safety standards.

Cosentino sources their raw materials responsibly, ensuring that suppliers meet stringent requirements regarding protecting workers and the environment. Their factories are built to LEED Gold certification standards and actively monitor their energy consumption levels. They also recycle 100% of their packaging material and aim to reuse 95% of their products.

Their commitment to sustainability extends beyond their operations. As part of our corporate responsibility program, They partner with organizations that support education initiatives in developing countries.

Dekton versus Quartz

CharacteristicsDektonQuartzStain100% stain proofStain resistantHeat Heat resistantVulnerable to heatUV Resistant100% UV ProofUV resistantChipping Vulnerable to chippingSuper resistant to chipping

Dekton Countertops Formats

Slab size 320 x 144 cm

Available thicknesses: 4, 8, 12, 20 and 30 mm

Warranty

Cosentino offers a 25-year warranty. This warranty is a transferrable one you can pass on to future property owners in which Dekton surfaces have been installed.

Maintenance – Dekton Cleaning

Dekton countertops are super easy to clean and maintain. Dekton doesn’t need to be maintained by constant sealing, unlike granite or marble countertops. Consider using a hard surface spray cleaner such as Puracy Natural Cleaner. This product is safe for both humans and pets, and it doesn’t contain any harmful ingredients. If you’re concerned about using a cleaner that has vinegar, don’t worry; it won’t discolour your countertop. While many think using a cleanser designed specifically for granite and marble surfaces is necessary, that isn’t always true. Hard surface sprays work just fine. We don’t recommend using soap or water on Dekton surfaces. This is because soap can leave a film that dulls the surface.

Ultra Durable Material – Dekton by Cosentino

Dekton is 100% UV proof

Dekton by Cosentino is an ultra-compact surface made from a blend of quartz, glass, and porcelain. Although it is not a natural stone, Dekton is often referred to as an “ultimate” stone surface, combining the benefits of natural and artificial stones.

Dekton is heat reistant

Another critical feature of Dekton is its resistance to high temperatures. This feature is due to Dekton’s low coefficient of thermal expansion. This makes Dekton thermal shock-proof, which will resist extreme heat and cold. You can place hot pots and pans directly on the surface without worrying about damaging the countertop.

Dekton is abrasion resistant.

This ultra-compact surface from Cosentino is highly resistant to scratches and provides high abrasion resistance and durability. Dekton is four times more scratch resistant than granite. And, if you do happen to scratch the surface, it can also be easily repaired.

Dekton is stain-proof.

Dekton can easily handle even the most stubborn stains. Its resin-free surface also resists chemical agents. The surface of Dekton is impervious to common household cleaning solutions, including bleach and vinegar. In addition, you can remove stains easily with a damp cloth and a cleaning solution.

Dekton by Cosentino is perfect for outdoor applications.

These ultra-compact surfaces are impervious to almost any type of damage. They are 100% UV-proof and don’t fade or discolour over time. Therefore, Dekton is the perfect countertop for your outdoor kitchen.

Dekton Pricing for your kitchen countertops

Dekton is expensive, so hiring a professional for installation is essential. Dekton’s cost depends on the thickness of the material and the number of slabs needed for your kitchen. It’s also worth mentioning that Dekton fabrication is also more expensive than quartz, granite and marble. This is related to the fact that Dekton has no resin. Therefore, it’s much trickier to cut it compared to quartz countertops, for example.

Dketon Pricing Calculator

The thickness of the slab – Generally, the thicker products are more expensive.

Size of your kitchen (Number of slabs needed)

The chosen slab itself (Some popular colours are more expensive per slab compared to others)

Number of desired seams (You may save some cost by compromising your seam location)

Dekton, supply, fabrication, and installation can cost anywhere between $100-$150 per Square foot in Metro Vancouver.

Dekton Stonika Series

The Stonika series is our favourite Dekton series in kitchen and bath design. The Dekton Stonika is a beautiful material that showcases nature’s beauty. This collection highlights the natural wonders of marble, limestone or granite. The Dekton Stonika is designed to showcase the beauty of natural stone while addressing the issues associated with its application. In addition, Stonika series also offers a super thin, 4mm, edge profile for those looking for a super modern look for their next kitchen renovation.

Choose Canadian Home Style for your kitchen remodel in Vancouver.

Canadian Home Style is your family-owned and operated custom cabinetry retailer with a showroom in North Vancouver, BC. We are the official dealer of Cabico custom cabinetry in the Lower Mainland, providing complete kitchen renovations with an extended warranty. We always keep up to date with the latest trends and are proud members of the NKBA National Kitchen and Bath Association. In addition, we have won the Consumer’s Choice Awards back-to-back in 2021 and 2022 for our commitment to business excellence. We are considered one of the highest-rated kitchen and bath design and renovation experts in Metro Vancouver. Book now to visit our North Vancouver showroom, where you can get expert advice from one of our kitchen and bath designers. We’re happy to be a part of your journey with your next kitchen renovation project in Metro Vancouver.

We are the official dealer of Cabico custom cabinetry in the Lower Mainland, and we believe in providing sustainable kitchen designs that can last you and your family a lifetime. Contact us for all of your Vancouver kitchen renovation needs.

Services We Offer:

Flooring

Kitchen Renovation

Bathroom Renovation

Kitchen and Bath Design

Main Areas of Service in British Columbia:

Vancouver

North Vancouver

West Vancouver

Burnaby

Coquitlam

Squamish

Whistler

Helpful Resources:

We offset the 100% of our CO2 emissions over the entire product life cycle, making Dekton the only Cradle-to-Grave Carbon Neutral surface on the market. (cosentino.com)

100% of the electricity used in Dekton’s production comes from renewable sources. (cosentino.com)

Cosentino claims that Trilium is the first 100% recycled Dekton color. (countertopspecialty.com)

Created with up to 80% recycled material, Trilium was born in 2016 becoming the first ecological color of Dekton. (archdaily.com)

Please read our last kitchen renovation blog here:

Kitchen Counter Height

The post Dekton appeared first on Canadian Home Style.

Via https://canadianhomestyle.com/kitchen-renovation/dekton/

source https://canadianhomestyle.weebly.com/blog/dekton

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smridhistone · 2 years

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As a homeowner, you want only the best for your home—including your kitchen. For kitchen countertops, marble has long been at the top of the list, alongside granite and quartz. The material is beautiful and has been used for millennia in a variety of applications. Choosing the right slab of marble for your kitchen counter, on the other hand, can be challenging if you don't know what to look for. You must know how to select marble from the moment you enter the shop.

Things to Consider When Considering Marble Here are some things to consider:

Call ahead of time

Do some research before entering the marble facility. Determine which marble colors you want, how much you need, and the dimensions you require.

Inquire About Origin

Marble from Statuario and Calacatta is in high demand and may be difficult to find. Some manufacturers will try to fool you by claiming that their white marble with veining is from Calacatta, but it could simply be marble from China or elsewhere.

Color of Marble

Not only is white marble available, but also green, gold, taupe, red, and black marble. While those colours are appealing, they may not be the best choice for your kitchen countertops.

There will be fissures and cracks.

There is a distinction between fissures and cracks. A crack indicates that the marble has been mishandled and may not be of the highest quality. Fissures, on the other hand, are completely natural and should be expected. Fissures will not affect the stone's integrity.

Concerning The Veining

Quarries each have their own way of cutting marble to achieve different effects in the natural stone. Marble blocks can be carved in a variety of ways to produce variations in veining.

Togetherness and Seams

Because each slab of marble will be unique, you should focus on selecting pieces that will look good together. You must examine the veining in the marble carefully and understand how those veins will merge together during fabrication and installation.

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granitecountertopsdallasguides · 2 years

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Why Select Granite Cooking Area Countertops?

Granite kitchen area counter tops are a fantastic option for high-traffic locations in the cooking area. Not only is it sturdy, however it is additionally extremely distinctive. The striking all-natural charm of granite will certainly not just make your kitchen area look beautiful, but it will also last for years. So, why should you select granite? Let's take a look. And then, find out why granite is the best selection for your kitchen area! We'll cover some advantages of granite in this write-up. Keep reading to get more info regarding the benefits of granite kitchen countertops. To keep your granite cooking area countertops, you ought to make sure they're sealed a minimum of when per year.

Granite can be porous in some areas, so you'll need to be additional cautious when food preparation and eating. While you should not fret too much about spots, you ought to secure your kitchen counters consistently. Fortunately, securing your granite yearly is easy, taking just 10 to fifteen mins. In addition, it will certainly secure your kitchen counters from any spills, smears, and also micro-pests. To get the right kitchen counter, you should recognize how to measure. Procedure the size of your closets, and increase it by 4 to get the dimension of your counters. You can use this very same dimension to compute your backsplash.

See to it you have actually measured all counters, including the backsplash. A granite counter top can have an optimum of 4 inches of overhang, and it can be tough to hide a repair. Nonetheless, quartz counter tops are not permeable and also do not need sealing. You need to seal dark-colored granite countertops at least once a year, although this depends on the type of securing you use. You should also secure the counter top after every usage, as granite tends to discolor with time, which can lead to fractures and also breakage. Deep cracks in granite slabs are likewise susceptible to damage.

Quartz is extra long lasting than granite, as well as can be made in big slabs, getting rid of seams as well as blemishes in big kitchen area islands. If your color pattern is based upon dark cabinets, you should consider selecting Alaska White granite. This granite matches lots of cabinet colors, and matches dark spaces much better than cold white tones. It has a greater portion of Onyx than other white granites, which makes it a much warmer alternative. It additionally features even more grey spots, rather than more uniform white granites. Go to www.gcstonefabricators.com to discover the different designs of granite countertops.

The spots differ in size, and also they make up forty to half of the rock's mass. White Ice is another popular stone that offers a matte finish. This rock includes specks of gold, lotion, and also grey that give it a distinct look. It is fairly cost-effective, though particular figuring might bring a costs rate. Andino White granite is additionally a gorgeous option, but its color can be a little irregular. For instance, some pieces might look polychromatic while others are greatly rippled. On top of that, the Moon White granite from India is one of the lightest white granites readily available.

It's ideal for a contemporary setting as a result of its texture as well as look. The cost of granite cooking area counter tops differs, depending on its kind. There are pieces offered in many shades, but you'll need to pay more if you desire much more exotic slabs. You ought to additionally take into consideration the accessibility of a piece from a details firm. Numerous stone backyards use residues offer for sale, and also you can save up to fifty percent by acquiring 2 pieces rather than one. Yet remember, it's finest to take into consideration the price of granite kitchen counters prior to dedicating to the setup. To get more information about this post, visit: https://www.encyclopedia.com/earth-and-environment/geology-and-oceanography/geology-and-oceanography/granite.

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francismckee9 · 2 years

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barbourlindahl2 · 2 years

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richardkokholm9 · 2 years

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writing-the-end · 3 years

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LoL Chapter 51- Fallen Angel

(Sorry this is late! i got my vaccine and it mcfucking knocked me out lol)

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

The hermits return to Eremita from a restocking trip, to discover they have been raided. And one hermit has been taken.

Warning: Capture, slight torture scene

_________________________________

Eremita has become their safe haven, the last bastion for the guild. Even when the arcane guard chased them all the way to the water’s edge, no sane person would dare follow the hermits into the Ashioll sea. Which is exactly why they lived in its mysterious, misty embrace.

They could no longer simply fly off upon the backs of sky turtles, or even teleport into the towns they frequented. Now, when the hermits absolutely had to go into public for supplies they couldn’t make or grow themselves, they sailed in on Cleo’s pirate ship. And when they had to leave, they made sure that if anyone was following them, they took a roundabout direction back to their home. It adds time, weaving between the islands and through the mists, but ensures no one can guess where they live.

Cleo’s pirate ship beaches up onto the sand, nestling back into place as a wrecked vessel once more. The dream magic fades, revealing broken oak boards, seagrass growing through seams, and splintered masts of the ghost ship Cleo commands. Hypno blinks free from his sleep, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Already? Man, my dream was just starting to get interesting.”

With the help of rattling skeletons, their bones held together by magical muscle and sinew, the hermits unload food, meats, fabrics, and more. Enough for months, as if they were preparing to be snowed in after a massive blizzard. Almost all the hermits were a part of the flow of supplies.

Almost. Only three hermits stayed behind. Zedaph had an accident with his two explosive friends, and while it wasn’t the first time, Grian wanted to keep an eye on the burns in case the magic lingered. Mumbo stayed behind as well, but for very different reasons. One, he was easily recognizable. Everyone knows the multimage that Dolios wants captured alive. Him and Grian are the only two who Dolios demands be captured alive. He also was in the middle of inventing some new contraption, and was not about to leave it behind and lose all his progress. Last Cleo saw of him, he was extinguishing burning locks of hair. She wonders if he’s made any progress, or if he’s burned all his hair away at this point.

Once Impulse and Tango have unloaded their share of the shipment, they go in search of their friend. Both still feel bad for burning Zed, even if it was by accident. And they’ve all been burned at this point in all their years together. But it doesn’t mean they don’t feel bad, especially leaving Zed behind. At least they brought back a caramel apple from his favorite stall in the market, as well as fresh hay for his barn and animal friends.

“Zed? We have a surprise for you!” Tango calls, his voice twinged with mischief, as if they plan to prank their friend rather than give him a gift. No response comes from the flat roofed barn, except the distant bleat of a sheep. Tango looks at Impulse, fiery hair remaining vertical even as his head tips to the side. “Could he be taking a nap?”

“You know Zed and his sleep schedule, he wouldn’t interrupt it, even when he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.” Impulse waves it off. “He probably just isn’t listening, or maybe pulling a prank of his own. Let’s go in.”

Impulse waves Tango through the gate, careful to keep the sheep, goats, and other farm animals from getting between Tango’s feet and causing his hair to ignite the dry hay in his arms. A horse nips at the bale, but Tango keeps it well away from catching fire. He’s relieved to lighten the load he’s carrying as soon as they're inside the barn. Both mages look to the bed tucked in the corner, but no Zedaph. Tango tosses the haybale aside. “He should be resting.”

They clamber over the piles of hay, searching every nook and cranny for Zedaph. Even his cookie stash, which they let him believe is still a secret. But Zed is nowhere within the barn he chooses to live in.

Concern pales both Impulse and Tango’s face, and Tango’s hair reacts in kind to the revelation. “Perhaps he’s being treated by Grian?”

Tango doesn’t answer, already following the path across the width of the island, from one shore to another. Grian’s floating cloud, the quartz tower with large archways and a glass domed roof. Perfectly built for a sky angel, his wings and speed. Not so perfect for his roommate, and all of Mumbo’s redstone machinery, his own lanky body climbing up onto the solid cloud and stairs to sleeping quarters.

The redstone workshop at the base of the building has been cleaned up, though a few vials seem to have rolled away, as if they were grabbed then subsequently dropped. But, just like the barn, no sign of Mumbo.

But there is a sound. Echoing from the glass dome, a sniffling, stifling cry escapes from above, followed by a gasping, shuddering breath. Impulse runs up the steps as fast as possible, each bounce from stair to stair accentuated with a tiny explosion to give him more speed. Tango blazes behind, fire burning bright as the sun as energy courses through him. He notices on the way up grey streaks against the pure white quartz.

“Zedaph?” Impulse breathes, screeching to a full stop. In the center of the room, Mumbo and Zed are huddled close, holding on tight. Their eyes wild with fear, and in Zed’s eyes he can see a shared memory. A shared trauma him, Impulse, and Tango all share. Two hermits, holding onto each other like its their last hope.

Only two. “Where’s Grian?”

Mumbo opens his mouth, but a strangled cry only escapes. Tears fall from both their faces, shaking like leaves. Something bad has happened to their friend. Tango slides across the floor, grabbing Zedaph and Mumbo. “What happened? Where’s Grian? Are you hurt?”

They both shake their heads, but finally Mumbo gathers enough of his voice to speak. It’s weak, broken apart like glass shattering. “He took him.”

__________________________________________________

A cold, wet air fills Grian’s lungs, biting into his skin like ice on a cold morning. When he tries to open his eyes, the dull ache of his skull becomes sharp, forcing the angel to screw them closed again. Grian grimaces, trying to figure out why he has such a terrible headache. Did he hit his head in training? No, he wouldn’t have been allowed to sleep with the hermits hovering over him. Perhaps he drank too much. Once again, impossible. Grian knows what his hangover is like, and it’s not this.

He realizes he’s definitely hanging, but not from drinking. Cold, hard metal presses flat against his wrists, suspended over his head. The iron bites into his skin, all his weight rubbing his wrists raw.

“Good, you’re awake. I was starting to get bored waiting, though I do quite enjoy relishing in finally having my prize thirty years in the making.” The snide, even tempo of Magistrate Dolios’s voice hurts worse than any headache or wrist, and Grian finally manages to open his eyes. The cavern he finds himself in is foreign, not even remotely similar to the brick and iron dungeons where he last woke up in Dolios’s clutches. So long ago, it feels like. The Championship. At the time, he felt like he was at the top of the world. Now? Now he feels like the world was crushing him.

Grian resists his bindings, but even when he kicks outward, his feet don’t even scrape the dank floor. He tips his head back, until the crown of his head collides with a smooth, hard material. Just at the touch, he can feel the oppressive energy of the crystal. In his vision, he sees the sharp tip of the massive gem. Each wrist is locked tight against the crystal, the nails buried deep in the crystal lattice.

He looks around, searching for other hermits. For Mumbo, the last face he remembers before…

The memories flood in, cascading alongside the fear and panic. He remembers everything, every terrifying second. Leaving Zedaph to meet with Mumbo, he remembers the scent of marigolds on his hands, just after crushing the petals to make a paste for Zedaph’s burns. The quiet island, most of the other hermits gone. He remembers patting his pocket, the note from his best friend telling him to meet at Iskall’s place.

But when he arrived, Mumbo was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t unusual, Mumbo tended to get distracted and be late. So he waited, plucking orange petals from his clothes, hair, and hands. He should’ve noticed the way the wind shifted, becoming cold and stale, before disappearing completely.

He should’ve realized something was very wrong when the grey stormcloud appeared. But he didn’t. He was so focused on waiting for Mumbo, then on getting rid of the flowers in his feathers, that he didn’t see the husks crawl their way free of the ocean. At least, not until the husk of a soldier came barreling for him, empty glowing white eyes and ashen, flaky form charging with halberd drawn.

Grian squeaked, dodging the attack. Stumbled over the writhing form of a cactus cat, the fading spines still quite sharp, he was saved by a pair of not-grey arms.

Not grey arms draped in wine red fabric, the hems decorated in gold thread. He realized who it was immediately, and scrambled to try and get away. But Dolios’s magic kept a strong grip, vines of black twisting and tying Grian’s wings to his back, while a hazy fog had grown around them.

He remembers the feeling of Dolios’s hands in his hair, pulling him to his feet as he struggled and fought against the vines and the fog that filled his mind. Hands clawing at his binds, even biting the magistrate at one point. He remembers the taste of blood, iron on his tongue and Dolios swearing, blasting Grian with magic.

And the last thing he remembers, before being knocked out and torn away from his home, was Mumbo’s face. Rounding the corner, completely oblivious to the fight occurring. It was at that moment that Grian realized, when his eyes locked with Mumbo’s that it wasn’t him that sent the letter. The confusion, of seeing Grian, the surprise on his face. He was walking towards the infirmary, dropping the box in his hand upon seeing the sight before him.

The fear on Mumbo’s face matched Grian’s own, as he was dragged into the sea. A second later, a swift burst of sonic energy knocked him out.

And now he’s here. Dolios saunters across the room, gathering ingredients and writing down notes. Grian swings his legs, and summons his wings to try and be free. But as soon as the blue and white feathers appear, they crumble into ash. Crushing weight sets in on his head, his shoulders, his lungs, and his magic, and the crystal he’s trapped against hums with power. “You’re quite different from the last angel I hunted. At least you fought back, but in the end they left me without the gift of their magic. This time, I’m not letting anything go to chance.”

The magistrate sets his bowl of guts aside, approaching the crystal and Grian. His hands are clasped behind his back, shoulders straight and head held high. The weight of the oppressive dark magic doesn’t bother him. Grian’s not ready to give up just yet. He attempts to kick Dolios, but the dark mage stands mere centimeters out of reach. So Grian decides to use his words. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that once or twice before, yes. But the rest of Lairyon loves me. And why wouldn’t they? I’ve brought prosperity to this kingdom, done more than that stupid rainbow king could ever do, and all of this because of my power.” Dolios sweeps his hands, vapors of dark magic swirling from his fingers as his fingers clench to fists

“Stolen magic. If the citizens knew, they’d hate you just as much as I do.” Grian reels back his head, and does the best he can to annoy Dolios. He spits on him. The glob of spit lands on Dolios’s cheek, the magistrate flinching, then reaching up and wiping it away. A fresh anger in his eyes.

“And who would believe you? An outcast mercenary orphan? The last of your kind?” Dolios stoops low, plucking a husked feather from the floor. He walks back to the table, mixing the components and ingredients from his jars of death with Grian’s feather. “Your power is rare. Angelic mages are always powerful, a power I crave. You will be a wonderful addition to my collection of magic. The last of the angels to complete my set!”

A fearful shiver ricochets down Grian’s spine. “You’re going to turn me into a husk?”

“Oh, gods no!” Dolios laughs, so loud that it echoes off the cavern walls as he throws his head back, brown curls dancing across rich fabric. “I wouldn’t dare waste such magic to become simple energy for me and my beast. No, no. Do not fret, little bird, you will become so much more. I don’t plan to drain your energy. I plan to steal it.”

The hunger in Dolios’s eyes as he turns, the concoction in his hand, Grian realizes what he's seen all this time in Dolios’s eyes. Hunger. A madman hellbent on taking what he sees as rightfully his.. A predator stalking his prey. And Grian was cornered, pinned. Unable to fight back, unable to fly away. Fear is replaced by terror, a sensation Grian struggles to fight back. He needs to think clearly if he hopes to survive.

“The last angel died before my powers were…” Grian pauses, seeing the coy smile on Dolios’s face.

“I always had a-” Dolios pauses, waving his hand nonchalantly before marking the ground around the crystal spires with dark seal. “-fascination with angelic wizards. A dear friend of mine in my youth was one. Ever since then, I knew I had to have that kind of magic in my collection. So strong, each and every one of you. With magic even the ancient ones revered. And now?”

Dolios steps back, casting his magic circle. Rather than emitting color and light, it absorbs all color to make the pattern of his magic. He raises his hands, and two satellite crystals awaken. Darkness swirls in the lattice of the gems, mist eeking out through pores and filling the cavern with darkness. When the mist reaches the seal surrounding the crystal Grian’s chained to, the spire behind him, pressed against his back, activates. The pressure on his body, his magic becomes unbearable, breaking into pain. Like a harpoon through his chest, the dark magic takes hold. Biting down, biting in.

And slowly, agonizingly stealing his magic. So intrinsically tied to his soul, hsi lifeforce, it feels as if his very being is being dragged from every inch of his body in contact with the crystal. He writhes to escape the painful magic, but the bonds hold firm and he struggles to catch his breath. Dolios steps back, basking with ravished delight at the scene before him. Enjoying the pain that tears at Grian’s skin, soul, and spell. “Now the magic will soon be mine.”

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d3-iseefire · 3 years

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Nevermore Chapter Seven

Arkenstone boasted a monster sized parking garage set behind the main complex, and that fact alone nearly had Bilba turning around and going home right then and there. She hated parking garages, and an isolated parking garage late at night was nothing short of a nightmare.

It was only when she recalled the image of an injured werewolf prince facing off against a creep to protect her that she gritted her teeth, steeled herself, and drove in.

Drove in down a steep ramp, which meant the first level was underground.

Of course it was.

She spotted an entrance to the mall, marked with white lettering and signs, and parked as close to it as she could get. This late at night, there was only a smattering of cars and her footsteps seemed to echo like rifle shots as she hurried toward the metal door.

The ground floor where she entered, was the mall itself, wide corridors lined with shops of all kinds on both sides. Quite a few were shuttered but with Arkenstone being a 24 hour venue just as many were still open. Down the center of the tiled corridor were still more booths, boasting everything from jewelry to candy to exotic foods and more.

As she passed a storefront featuring cinnamon rolls, Bilba was surprised to hear her stomach rumble. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at something fun like that and actually felt hungry. She ate because she had to, not usually because she wanted to.

She spotted a large map of the mall on a nearby wall and headed toward it to make sure she knew where she was going. The lounge/restaurant/thingy for which the entire complex was named was on the top floor. According to the map, she needed a bank of elevators on the exact opposite side of the mall from where she’d entered.

Figured.

She walked quickly toward that end, eyes fixed on the floor in front of her and arms wrapped tightly around her torso. There weren’t very many people out this late, not on this floor anyway, but it still made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like being in public. It was too easy for Lotho, or one of his lackeys, to hide in a crowd and watch her without her knowing. She could walk back out to her car and find them waiting, or get dragged into a dark corner the second she let her guard down.

The elevators came into view and she rushed to push the button to summon the car. When it opened the entire inside appeared to be polished quartz panels with gold trim and a marble floor. Bilba stepped in hesitantly, and the doors slid shut soundlessly behind her.

She hit the button that had an ornate A under it, and pressed back into a corner of the car. She felt the drop in her stomach signaling the car had started to move and tried to force herself to relax.

She didn’t do well in enclosed spaces anymore. Things like elevators, public restrooms, anywhere with only one way in or out. Places where she lost the ability to control when, how, or if, she exited.

The button she’d pushed went dark and, with a quiet ding, the door slid smoothly open onto the most opulent, and extravagant lounge Bilba had ever seen. The far side featured massive panes of window glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling. She’d never noticed windows from the front of the building, which meant they must boast a spectacular view of the hills and far off mountains that lay behind the complex.

During the day at least. Currently, they were simply black rectangles, and served to remind her of the risk she was taking being out this late. Her eyes caught on doors at the bottom of several panes and, for a brief second, she let herself imagine sitting at a table out there, sipping on a drink and reading a book. Nothing but a beautiful landscape, and the rustle of leaves on nearby trees.

It must be peaceful.

She pulled her mind from that particular fantasy, and focused on the rest of the room. It was massive, and just...overwhelming to be perfectly honest. Chandeliers and marble and quartz sparkled from seemingly every corner. The place seemed to be a hybrid more than a true lounge, complete with a small dance floor and what looked like a full service kitchen. There were areas with couches and televisions, other spaces with expensive, leather covered booths, and still more sections that looked designed to just let people sit and talk.

A massive, winding staircase led up to a balcony style second level while, on the main level, she could see several raised portions that appeared to be private seating. There was quiet music playing over the entire room, almost drowning out the quiet clink of silverware, soft noise from a few television sets and the low drone of chattering voices.

Wringing the hem of her shirt in her hands, Bilba stepped hesitantly out of the elevator. It was fine. She’d just...go in and...do..something. She didn’t expect to see the prince himself but maybe she could...talk to someone or...or maybe…

Her thoughts trailed off as her eyes, moving over the room, landed on a small, sectioned off part of the floor elevated about ten or so feet above the main floor. It was in the back, and shadowed, consisting of a single table with a group of people seated at it.

The one that drew her attention was a young woman with a veritable mane of flaming, scarlet hair but, next to her, was a young, dark haired man, sitting in profile so all she could see was the side of his face

Bilba fumbled out her phone and quickly recalled the search she’d done that had given her the prince’s name. The picture popped up and she studied it before looking up again to try and compare it to the young man at the table.

When she did, she nearly dropped her phone because the young man in question was definitely the prince, and he was currently staring directly at her.

The entire table was, in fact, and not just them. She could still hear the music, and the televisions, but the chatter had died down entirely. Everywhere she looked she saw eyes, all staring directly at her.

This had been a mistake. Such a massive mistake. Bilba shuffled backward, her hands dragging on her shirt hem. What had she been thinking? She didn’t belong here. She had to leave. Just leave.

She whirled around, and bit back a shriek as she nearly ran into a massive man suddenly standing directly behind her. He was like one of those guys she saw sometimes in weight lifting competitions. He was bald on the top of his head, but instead of trying to hide it he’d chosen to simply tattoo his scalp.

“Can I help you?” his voice was gravely, almost a growl that sent a chill up her spine. He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge in a way that probably led to a lot of burst seams in his suit jackets and dress shirts.

Bilba shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought this area was public access.”

“It is,” he said flatly. “Can I help you?”

Bilba hesitated. She forced herself to let go of her shirt before she put a hole in it, and turned to glance back toward the table on that small, raised level.

It was empty.

Empty, and everyone else in the room was still staring at her.

“Um--” Bilba turned back toward the enormous man, half turned again to the now empty table and came to the unescapable realization that she’d made a horrific mistake. Again. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I made a mistake. I need to go.”

She edged slowly around the man, toward the elevator. He turned, following her movements but, to her surprise, didn’t attempt to stop her.

Bilba got on the elevator and fumbled for the buttons, finally finding the one for the bottom floor and rapidly pushed it. The door slid closed, and she collapsed against the wall. She felt like she’d run a marathon and slowly allowed herself to slide down the wall into a crouch.

What had she been thinking? He was a prince. Of course she couldn’t just march over and talk to him. The fact he’d even been there to begin with had been a massive shock.

She shoved a hand through her hair, and flinched as it caught on a few knots and pulled painfully. .

“Now what?” she whispered. She still had a mostly unconscious werewolf prince in her bed, and was no closer to finding him help. Maybe the pain medication would somehow get him to wake up enough to give her a phone number?

She let out a groan, wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her head on her knees. This was exhausting...she was exhausted. She had work in the morning and then she’d need to ready the house for when, not if, Lotho showed up and then a million other things that she did to keep herself from having to stop and think too much.

She didn’t have time for any of this.

Guilt hit her. Fili had been there for her when she’d needed him, and here she was begrudging the fact that he needed her to return the favor?

She really was just a terrible person, wasn’t she?

The elevator slowed to a stop on the ground floor and she pushed to her feet as the door dinged and slid open, to an almost entirely empty level.

Bilba hesitated. There had been people earlier, hadn’t there? Not many, but some.

She stepped out slowly, almost peeking out before taking the risk of fully committing to leaving the elevator car. Maybe it was just this area that was empty and, as soon as she got off, she’d see --

Emptiness.

The whole floor, in both directions, and there was no distant sound to suggest anyone was out of eyesight either. Bilba suppressed a chill. Just relax. She was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was late, and there hadn’t been a lot of people to begin with. A movie had probably just started, or perhaps something in the underground entertainment complex had just opened. This was probably perfectly normal, she just didn’t know because she’d never come before.

She began walking, probably faster than absolutely necessary...except for the fact that it certainly felt absolutely necessary.

She passed by an open storefront and glanced inside, only for it to appear as empty as the rest of the floor. It was a clothing store, she chided herself, and it was late. There was probably only one person working and they were just in the back. Same with the next store...and the next...and the one after that.

By the fourth seemingly empty store, Bilba’s walk was just under a jog. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet, and tried her best to listen for any sort of sound over the quiet music blaring over the loudspeakers.

It couldn’t be Lotho. He didn’t have the kind of...whatever it was that would be needed to empty out the floor, especially of employees who were paid to be there.

She wanted to go back to the house. She never should have come here. It had been a mistake, one in a long list of mistakes she seemed to forever be making throughout the course of her life.

The door to the parking garage beckoned and she hurried toward it, feeling only a light modicum of relief as she pushed out into the darkened complex.

It was eerily quiet. No sounds of other cars, or people coming or going, not even the noise of traffic outside. She headed toward her car, mind instinctively going to every horror movie she’d ever seen that involved a woman walking alone at night.

She was both surprised and relieved to make it to her car, and even more so when she looked in and saw the backseat was empty. For a brief moment in time, it felt like the universe was giving her a break. A second of fortune in a flood of misfortune. She felt almost normal, for a second.

And then she slid her key into the ignition, turned it...and the engine refused to turn over.

Bilba’s heart jolted and she tensed. She turned the key again, and mentally prayed as the engine tried, and failed, to turn over.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” she breathed. She turned the key again, and again after that, only to hear the same sounds of a motor struggling, and failing, to catch. She released the key, and sank back in the seat, silence draping over her like a shroud.

Bilba closed her eyes, and let out a breath. Okay, she told herself. It was going to be fine. Just let it be for a minute, then turn the key again and --

Someone knocked on the window next to her.

Bilba shrieked and jumped so hard she hit her head against the roof of her car.

Outside the car, the man who’d startled her gave her a guilty look. He was probably a decade or two older than her, tall and fit with shoulder length, ash-blonde hair and a close shaven beard. He gave her a friendly grin, which did nothing at all to ease Bilba’s anxiety. She forced a smile and gave what she hoped passed for a friendly wave, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

Instead, he leaned in closer, hands shoved in the pockets of the leather jacket he wore. “Car trouble?”

His voice was muffled by the glass and, with a sense of dread, Bilba turned the ignition key just enough to allow her to roll the window down part way. “A little. I’m sure it’s fine though, sometimes it just takes a minute or two to warm up.”

“Why don’t you pop the hood and I’ll take a look?”

Bilba bit back the desire to ask him if he was a mechanic and would therefore have any clue as to what he was doing.. “I’m sure it’s fine. I can just call a tow truck.”

“Not from in here you can’t.” He pointed at the thick concrete over their head. “Come on, I can at least walk you inside if you’re looking for cell service.”

And then what, Bilba thought. He could be just genuinely trying to help, or he could be one of those types that helped with the expectation of being repaid somehow. Usually, they expected a date or something along those lines, and then proceeded to get aggressive or angry when, instead, they simply received gratitude.

The man clearly had no intention of leaving, which left her with few options. She could stay in her car and risk him getting angry, or she could get out to try and find cell service and hope he’d leave her alone once they were back inside and surrounded by people.

The image of the empty floor came to mind and the sense of dread increased. This entire endeavor had been a terrible idea. If only she could rewind time until she was back in the rental house. She’d still have a sick werewolf prince to deal with, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck in her current situation.

She opened the door. The man moved back a few steps and Bilba carefully got out. She pulled her purse strap over her head to wear it crossbody and clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

The man grinned broadly. “Great, let’s go.”

He made no attempt to introduce himself, and Bilba didn’t want to create a false sense of intimacy by asking. Instead she hunched her shoulders and walked quickly back toward the mall entrance. She tried to outpace him, but his size advantage allowed him to keep up with her easily.

She reached the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

“Damn,” the man’s voice came from directly behind her. “I didn’t realize how late it was. They must have closed already.”

“Closed?” Bilba turned, only to realize she was now caught between the man in front of her and the door behind her. “I thought it was a 24 hour venue.”

“It is,” the man agreed. “But the mall still locks down at a certain point. If you’re already in Arkenstone, or down in Ered Luin you’re fine but, if you leave, you can’t come back until the mall reopens and if you’re outside when the mall closes--” His words trailed off, and he shrugged.

“Oh.” Bilba gripped her purse strap with both hands again and tugged on it anxiously. Now what? “I -- um --” she turned away from him, and spotted the sloped pavement she’d driven down to enter the garage. “I’ll need to go outside, I guess, to get a signal.”

She gave him a hesitant smile, and started toward the exit. Behind her, his footsteps followed and Bilba quickened her pace in response. It was just as dark outside as it was in, but at least it’d be more open, right? More people around, hopefully. He wasn’t Lotho, so no one else should be in danger.

About a dozen feet ahead of her, a shadow shifted and Bilba bit back a gasp as a stranger stepped into view from behind a pillar. As he took several steps closer, the shadows fell away to reveal the tattooed man from the lounge. He stopped several feet away from her, crossed his arms and then just...stood there.

Movement came from her other side and a second man stepped into view and took up a matching position. This man was older with a strong build and salt and pepper hair. A thick scar ran from the center of his forehead down through his right eye, leaving it a milky, dull white.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the garage and Bilba’s blood froze in her veins.

At the top of the ramp leading out of the garage, an enormous, coal black wolf appeared. It was smaller than Fili with a slimmer build but was no less massive.

It lowered its head and let out another growl, lips curling back to reveal vicious looking, curved fangs.

Bilba bit back a whimper as a vivid image of those teeth ripping into her flashed through her mind. The wolf took a step forward, and she instinctively backed up, only to run into someone who lightly grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

She’d completely forgotten about the man who’d originally spoken to her at her car. He was looking past her at the wolf with a flat expression.

It, meanwhile, was still approaching. Bilba tried to move, unsure of where she was going to go but just wanting to go somewhere else, only to have the man behind her tighten his grip to hold her in place.

The wolf moved into a darker section of the garage where the lights set in the ceiling didn’t reach. The shadows themselves seemed to shift and, when they released him, it was a man who strode out instead of a wolf.

And not just any man bit the dark haired prince whose picture had come up when she’d searched the name Kili online. In those images the man had been smiling and carefree. He was anything but now. His body was wound as tight as a bow string, and the look in his eyes was hard enough to strike her dead on the spot if they held the power.

He strode right up to her, towering over her and, when he spoke, it was as if he’d carried the wolf over into his voice. “You have ten seconds to tell me where the hell my brother is, and why you’re soaked in his blood. Start talking.”

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years

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Trinkets, 34: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

An eccentric plum coloured hat decorated with a silver buckle and a long egret feather that droops over the bearer's eyes.

An unremarkable gray stone covered in myriad tiny pink growths, ranging in shape from rough textured flowers to near-perfect spheres. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as rhodochrosite.

A blank envelope containing a single jigsaw puzzle piece and a note that reads “You have two months to find the rest of this puzzle. If you do not, the entire population in this forsaken area will die.”

A centaur hair pictorial prayer rug.

A small harp with little vines for strings and a oaken body with stray leaves. It appears to be alive, requiring water and light to sustain itself. Its leaves change with the seasons and it blooms in the spring. If broken or damaged, it will slowly but surely repair itself.

An accordion made brown suede of with bronze keys.

A tiny hourglass no larger than a man's pinkie finger filled with phosphorescent sand that emits a faint Random Coloured glow in the dark. It takes one hour for the sand to pass from the top end to the bottom.

A shiny leather doublets trimmed with seal fur and belted with checkered woollen sashes.

A single stick of chalk carved with swirls and twists across the powdery stone.

A finely crafted leather backpack that seems to have been handmade from excellent materials by a master’s needle and knife. The style is simple, but durable and effective.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

An eccentric plum coloured hat decorated with a silver buckle and a long egret feather that droops over the bearer's eyes.

An unremarkable gray stone covered in myriad tiny pink growths, ranging in shape from rough textured flowers to near-perfect spheres. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as rhodochrosite.

A centaur hair pictorial prayer rug.

An accordion made brown suede of with bronze keys.

A shiny leather doublets trimmed with seal fur and belted with checkered woollen sashes.

A single stick of chalk carved with swirls and twists across the powdery stone.

A finely crafted leather backpack that seems to have been handmade from excellent materials by a master’s needle and knife. The style is simple, but durable and effective.

A small, flat slab of dark stone that, nondescript though it is, gives off an unmistakable eeriness.

A torc fashioned from a coiled length of interlocking chains, constructed of two unknown metals. Black and white, they swirl around each other like yin and yang, darkness and light.

An armoured gorget consisting of a metal throat-shield and a series of overlapping metal plates that encircle the neck. The entire device is connected to a belt made of leather. When worn, the battle gorget protects the wearer from physical strangulation and bites to the neck such as the case if they were hung by a noose or attacked by a vampire.

A clear crystal the size of a child’s fist, covered in eldritch runes. The gem flickers with a weak glow in various coloured hues depending on who its being held by.

A heavy iron bell inscribed with distorted musical symbols that releases an incredibly cacophonous noise when rung.

A magnificent goblet formed from a basalt-like stone permeated with veins of violet crystal.

A hauntingly terrifying mask that appears to have be fashioned from leather, metal and nightmares.

A druid’s staff fashioned by woodland spirits. The shaft is carved from sturdy oak and bound in vines. The head piece of the staff is a slightly oversized rose bud which blooms whenever its wielder casts a spell whose power stems from natural magic.

A peacock-feather quill that always writes smoothly and never needs to be filled with ink.

A large oil painting of some otherworldly sea, where creatures who are octopoid from the neck down but with human heads float in bliss.

A piece of torn red cloth bearing a royal insignia.

A leather bandolier that can be worn over one shoulder and runs diagonally across the chest and back. It has small loops or pouches for holding eight objects the size of a flask or small dagger. The bearer can easily retrieve any of the items stored in it during combat without having to dig through their pack.

An obsidian icon of a forgotten deity.

A recorder carved from brilliant white ash.

A short necked, round bottom flask that could hold about a half-gallon of liquid. Clearly visible through the glass sides, though, is a city. When viewed extremely closely, such as under a magnifying glass, what appears to be tiny people walk through the streets, conducting their daily lives. No matter how the bottle is moved or tilted, those within don’t seem disturbed.

A leather military horse saddle, engraved with battle scenes of human knights slaying kobolds.

A damp beaver skin bagpipe.

A marble sculpture of an elven woman being swallowed by a large wave.

A twisted warhorn blasted into a dark ebony hue and wrapped in bands of bronze with draconic runes that glow with purple eldritch fire. The low moaning drone of the horn discomforts all who hear it.

A wooden armband, intricately carved with interweaving vines and snaking dragons’ heads,

A silver horseshoe with foreign writing etched on to the side of the shoe. Roughly translates to "Trailfire".

A high, conical mask, intricately decorated with dried corn kernels of different colours.

A war banner depicting a bone-white skeleton on a field of midnight blue.

A maple linen chest with false bottom holding a number of lewd porcelain figures.

An innocuous-looking, fist-sized piece of faceted glass. When placed upon a flat surface the object floats about three feet into the air, glowing and chiming softly.

A fist-sized orb that resembles the eye of a dragon and dangles from a heavy gold chain.

A simple quartz crystal with a series of emerald green and brown straws extending from within its central structure. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as tourmaline in quartz.

A colourful ball formed from silk ribbons that randomly unfurls in a multi-hued explosion of noise and whipping fabric, before suddenly reforming.

A small cut glass bottle has a hinged silver top emblazoned with a caduceus.

A bronze rattle with a set of small openings that allow you to see the glowing purple stone within it.

A lacquered wood-carved mouth instrument resembles a duck-hunter’s call, except for the red band along the mouthpiece and the hooked dragon’s claw wood-burned into its side. Blowing into the object causes it to sound like a drake's mating call, barely resistible to any draconic creature within earshot.

An empty djinn lamp. There is a note attached on which are written the words: “It's out. It is coming for you.”

A pair of small ceramic vials stoppered with corks. The sigil of the local constabulary has been stamped into the sides.

A handful of small, silver and copper coins pressed with unfamiliar faces and strange lettering.

An empty, crumpled leather belt pouch with a large hole opened along the bottom seam and a snarling beast embossed on the side.

A set of thieves’ tools that includes a small file, a set of lock picks, a small mirror mounted on a metal handle, a set of narrow-bladed scissors, and a pair of pliers.

An egg-sized smooth white stone poorly carved on one side to resemble a grinning skull. The tiny eye sockets appear far deeper than should be possible on an item this size.

A dozen brass keys in various sizes linked on a polished steel ring. One of the keys appears far too intricate for any mechanical lock you have ever encountered.

A polished dark wood box inlaid with silver tracery and lined with velvet, suitable for displaying a single piece of jewellery.

A small metal cube with dark glass on two opposing faces. Holding the box up to a light source causes it to project a colourful image of two men in orange robes, arguing over what appears to be a carefully flayed human skin.

A garish tabard made from simple red cloth, with gold-coloured trim that has frayed badly. The effect of the wear is such that the tabard’s edge appears to be fluffy; the strands of cheap gold fabric float like tentacles in the slightest breeze. The front of the tabard is dominated by a somewhat-successfully stitched image depicting a drop of blood. The back is adorned with a single letter “I” and has undergone the same transformation as the gold trim. Donning the tabard causes several wayward strands to drift upward into the bearer's face.

A doss lute carved from alder wood in a graceful, pear-shaped form. Abstract designs were inlaid in the wood in copper.

A mask of smoked glass cut into a half shell that obscures the bearer's features.

A golden, translucent bracelet made of a lightweight, silky material that resembles warm amber. In fact, small creatures can be seen trapped within. If watched closely, they seem to move.

A disguise kit consisting of cosmetics, hair dye and small props that allow the bearer to create disguise and change their physical appearance.

A coinpurse crafted from shimmering bronze-hued fabric that features humanoid teeth as part of its clasping mechanism. The incisors seem particularly pronounced.

A rough, milky white gem with a red crystal grown directly through one side and tinged with yellow discolorations. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as realgar.

A curious jade rod tipped with a glowing knob of crimson that shimmers with eldritch phosphorescence like a live thing.

A tiny finch made of overlapping metal plates. A gentle tug on its tail causes it to unfold into the shape of a small flower. Touching the centre of the flower causes it to reconfigure into the shape of a small lizard.

A tightly rolled vellum scroll, apparently blank on both sides, but with a deep blue shimmer as it catches the light.

A simple clay pin in the shape of a human face. Its eyes dart about and its mouth moves as though attempting to speak.

A small brown leather bag contains a double handful of black shale shards that ring like coins as it moves about.

A slate-grey box covered in tiny blinking lights. Along one edge is a panel which folds down to reveal a seemingly random assortment of letters and numbers on individual buttons opposite smooth black glass.

A padded trunk that contains a device to extend and display several small drawers when the trunk is opened. Beneath the display drawers are several additional removable padded drawers, all of which contain neatly sorted tiny decorative beads and wires.

A simple silver mirror that shows a perfect reflection delayed by several seconds.

A soft fur stole lined with black satin. Something solid has been sewn within the lining at one end.

A filthy, mummified monkey’s paw, curled into a fist and clutching what looks like an egg.

A tiny, polished wooden coffin. The lid is sealed with wax and the sound of tumbling glass shards can be heard as the box is moved.

A pair of excruciatingly detailed false glass eyes, in grey and green. While held or placed on a solid surface, they gradually turn to face each other.

Some garish crushed velvet pantaloons, monogrammed with the initials ‘AJW.’ So obviously out of fashion that they can only be antique.

An old, thick coin, dented but cleanly cast with bas reliefs. Some runes on the obverse; and on the reverse: the cruel-eyed face of a woman with spiral horns. The con has a scent of mildew and copper that rubs off when handled.

A small glass cube filled with a faintly luminescent blue fluid, with a small latch on one side securing the top. Something about the liquid suggests a degree of consciousness to its movements.

A leather drawstring pouch filled with a dozen perfectly spherical polished stones. The stones stick together as though magnetic, but come apart again with almost no effort.

A hard black leather case containing a flawless set of well-used professional kitchen knives, one nearly as long as your arm.

A coloured glass hemisphere made to resemble a distant galaxy seen on a clear dark night.

An odd red badge in the shape of a hunting bird’s head. The maker’s mark on the reverse appears strikingly similar to the local duke’s seal.

A folding leather wallet filled with strangely coloured bits of paper. Tucked within, you also find a small pewter badge showing the symbol of a great wyrm atop a castle wall, with the initials ‘GG’ on its reverse.

A shattered magenta stone with two dark green edges and that vaguely resembles sliced fruit. Knowledgeable PC's can identify the mineral as watermelon tourmaline.

A miniature castle constructed from a series of slick, modular blocks. Tiny, smiling figures man the parapets.

A well-polished brass oil lamp covered with intricate characters and a strange landscape in relief.

A brass and steel orrery, animated by clockwork and magic in real time. The spheres are nearly perfectly aligned.

A military chest with silver handles, three drawers, and iron-edged pigeon holes. The chest is covered in crossbow bolt holes.

A bronze candelabrum depicting angels being chased by stirges.

A crystal-beaded gossamer headpiece that sparkles with the slightest movement. The pattern of beads is that of an icon for a long-dead religion.

A clay pot with four faces; one a jackal, one a crocodile, the third a vulture, and the fourth a grinning hawk swallowing a human eye.

A large pot scarab filled with mummified human fingers.

A flat brass clockwork dial so richly studded with circles and hands and curious symbols that it looked like a cross scowly face.

A painted limestone incense burner set with a garnet.

A black basalt statuette of a lion wearing a gold crown and crushing slaves beneath its paws.

A leather wallet stamped with the design of a market stall, containing a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the merchants guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair colour) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A pouch filled with a dozen silver coins of great age, depicting forgotten gods and god-kings engaged in carnal acts.

A terracotta lamp with silver filigree work depicting lions killing escaping slaves.

A suspiciously clean wallet made from sewn mice and rats.

A scroll case made of sewn snakeskin and metal plates.

A fancy snuff box made from carved whale bone.

A set of flint and steel in an old calfskin wrap with the tail still attached held in a wool holdall.

A walnut, iron, and onyx pipe with a clay bowl depicting a swan.

A set of dice carved from white dragon bone. They will chill small quantities of liquid if placed inside a vessel of any kind. If rolled the dice will cover a small surface in a thin layer of ice.

An ornate linen headband with brass decorations.

A strange looking stone made of a material that looks like basalt, only with small insets of strange red, almost gleaming, material. It is slightly warm to the touch, and if one examines it very carefully or is very tactile to the touch, it seems to be almost pulsating.

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beautytreats · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 4pcs Natural Gemstone Handmade Pendant Set.

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niftyneffy · 4 years

Text

Heart AU - Speak with your Heart

(This AU belongs to @emositecc I only did the writing. This one is a real long one).

Even in the vast darkness of space, there were lights. Stars that orchestrated their luminosity, acting as beacons of beauty while they gleamed in the endless depths of space, secured in a comfortable blanket of the night while waiting for the inevitable admiration from those who took notice of the shining orbs.

Serenity, wonder and elation filled the air for it was a night for celebration! A night for love and peace. Smoothly and slowly, the ocean washed up and down along the beach's shore, repeatedly tucking the sand in a cloak of comfort. Along the light gold sand of the beach, just in front of Steven's house and the colossal temple of the Crystal Gems, there were countless crowds of people, humans and gems, all talking, laughing and dancing as music bounced up and down along the beach.

Sadie Killer and the Suspects were performing like it was their last night, Lars and his crew were telling stories of their adventures in space, but they weren't the only ones. Bismuth couldn't help but share her heroic tales, even Peridot and Lapis were gripped. Greg and Connie along with most of the residents of Beach City were enjoying the performance. Everyone was getting to know each other, humans and gems, all sharing stories, spreading smiles and having the time of their lives.

On the wooden deck of the cosy house that rested below the ancient, gargantuan statue stood the Crystal Gems, admiring the party from the house.

With a smile that shined bright like the sun, Steven rested his hands on his hips and turned to his three friends, his voice layered in happiness, "See, was I right or was I right? A party after this whole misunderstanding is just what Beach City needed."

"A misunderstanding?" Amethyst hiked a brow. "Ya sure you wanna call it that?"

Whirling her head and glaring at the Quartz, Pearl let distaste ride her voice as she gasped, "Amethyst!"

"What?!" She threw her hands up in retaliation. "All I'm saying is that a "misunderstanding" isn't the best way to put it. After all, we were reset, Steven lost his powers and all life on Earth was nearly destroyed."

"But it wasn't," Garnet added. "In the end, everything worked out just fine, we got our happily ever after and gained a new friend. What's past is past, let's enjoy the present while we can." She smiled, wrapping her arms around her friends and bringing them close and successfully breaking the tension between the two.

Caught in the embrace along with his friends, Steven chuckled but quickly glanced down at the sea of people on the beach, "Speaking of which, where is Spinny? As a matter of fact, I haven't seen Spinsy all day either."

"Relax," Garnet spoke softly, keeping her smile intact while disconnecting her arms from her friends. "They're fine. They've been spending the entire day together getting ready."

"Honestly, I haven't seen Spinsy this ecstatic before," Pearl confessed with a sigh. "I'm happy that they're together again."

"Here, here!" Steven agreed, cheering with the raise of his hand. "Now come on, let's join in!"

Looking back down to the joyous crowd of humans and gems, washed in pure delight as the sound of laughter and cheering filled the air, Steven and his friends all shared a smile and casually made their way down from the house's deck to join in. It was shaping up to be a good night.

...

It was unknown to the Crystal Gems but in the homey beach house where the memories of laughter and joy rested, their pink friend was waiting.

In the spacious, warm and comfortable living room, Spinsy eagerly waited with a child-like smile, repeatedly walking from one end of the room to the other with a bounce in each step as her big magenta shoes tapped and squeaked against the floorboards. She couldn't deny it, she had trouble holding in her anticipation, her excitement. With pure joy waiting to burst at the seams, the pink gem began to hum in delight as she occasionally turned her head to the front door, clasping her gloved hands together.

Elation causing a commotion in her bright eyes, hearing the sound of laughter, cheering and music from the party outside, Spinsy fought the urge to break her endless cycle of walking back and forth, but eventually, she stopped dead in her tracks and zoomed over to the window faster than a speeding bullet. Pressing her hands and face against the glass in awe, keeping her smile pinched upwards, she giggled as she watched her friends, the gems and residents of Beach City bathe themselves in celebration.

"Wowee." She breathed. "I can't wait to join in."

Focused on the fun happening outside, Spinsy became unaware of the gem behind her until she spoke with a shaky voice.

"How do I look?"

As the familiar, but nervous voice infiltrated her hearing, Spinsy whirled herself away from the window with her heart-shaped buns styled on her hair softly waving from side to side. Locating the sound of the gem's voice, her eyes widened in admiration, gasping in delight as she stared at her sister.

Spinny, much like her other half, was pink and her magenta hair was styled into a pair of spiky pigtails. Her top contained two colours that were kept separate from each other, white and dark magenta. She wore puffy shorts and a pair of knee-high pointy boots that matched the same colour as her hair along with puffy pointed hot pink sleeves, pink cartoon-like gloves and white stockings.

In the centre of her chest was a gemstone that resembled one half of an upside-down heart, the other half to Spinsy's own.

Anxious and timid, but finding the strength to lift a small smile, Spinny's widened eyes did well to hide the worriment infecting her pupils. Running down on each side of her face, directly under her eyes were three black lines that resembled her ruined mascara.

Six thousand years ago, it would have been like looking into a mirror, but she had changed, she was different. They both were.

As Spinsy absorbed the sight of Spinny, there was one thing her eyes targetted immediately. At first glance, nothing had changed about her appearance, but it was hard to miss the adorable, big red bow tie that had neatly secured its way around the taller gem's neck.

Bringing her hands up to her face and unlocking a squeal of pure elation, the whole of Spinsy's face brightened like a lightbulb, "Awh! You look adorable!"

Embarrassed, Spinny averted her gazed from her sister as she held onto her own arm, setting free a giggle, "Are... Are you sure this is okay?"

"Of course, that bow tie looks great on you!"

"No, no, not that," Spinny softly dismissed with the shake of her head. "I mean this... Party."

Hiking a brow, gloom sitting in her gaze, Spinsy tilted her head in response, "Don't you wanna go?"

"What? No, I do, I really do, it's just..." The newly reformed gem found her words dying on the tip of her tongue, losing the ability to speak as she raised her hand to scratch the back of her head as if she trying to locate the words she was searching for.

With her lips twitching, Spinny finally forced out her words as she looked back at her other half, "It's only been a week since I arrived here and... nearly destroyed all life on this planet. What if I ruin the fun or what if I scare everyone off? What if someone doesn't want me there?"

"Oh, Spinny," Spinsy cooed. "That's not true. I want you there." She reassured with a friendly smile. "There's nothing to be afraid of, all of that is in the past and believe me when I say that the people out there really, really want you to join the fun! I mean, you gotta admit, this week has been an absolute joyride! Haven't you had fun seeing what this planet has to offer? Haven't you had fun reconnecting?"

The look of uncertainty transformed into an expression of happiness as her lips trembled up into a smile, enraptured in her own joy as she breathed, "Yeah. It has been fun. In fact, it's been the best fun I've had in years."

Just then, Spinsy leaned her head in and smirked, "And wouldn't you like to make some new friends?"

Out of her control, Spinny couldn't help but stretch her smile and chortle, "Yeah."

"Well come on then." The smaller gem gently locked her hands onto Spinny's wrists, spreading her enthusiasm. "This is gonna be a night that you won't forget. Ready for the time of your life?" She asked with a glowing grin.

Spinny couldn't help but smile as she found a new form of comfort flowing through her, it sparked inside her like a lighter after being reunited with her sister. Just as she nodded, the taller gem unexpectedly felt herself being pulled forward by her sister who held her hand lightly and guided her to the front door of the beach house. As the door flung open, both of them felt the beautiful night's breeze wash over their face as if it was an ocean's wave.

The sound of cheering, laughing and music became more clear to the twins as they set foot outside. Spinsy was bouncing with joy, squeeing and finally unlocking her excitement as she saw the sea of heads having fun and as for Spinny, she stood still, in awe as her eyes scanned the crowd of people having the time of their lives. It reminded her of the games she used to play back in the garden.

Like a baseball being battered out of a stadium, Spinny's pupils flung to her right as she stared at her sister and chortled, "You know what, you're right! What is there to worry about? Let's go have some fun!"

"See, I knew you'd love it!"

Quickly, Spinsy hopped down the stairs of the beach house's deck like a slinky, but for some reason, Spinny remained hesitant as she looked back to the delightful crowd of people, shaking away her fears as she took a deep breath in and slowly exhaling it out into the fresh air of the graceful night. After reconnecting with her composure, she wore a mask of determination and began to steadily walk down the stairs right after her sister.

"You can do this," Spinny breathed, proceeding to whispered to herself. "You can do this."

...

Flowing up and down like the waves of the ocean, everyone was having the time of their lives. Dancing, laughing, cheering, playing and singing. Joy and glee radiated from each human and gem the twins passed by. Joining in with the rhythm, Spinsy began to bob her shoulders up and down as she walked with a spring in each step, waving and cheering to the residents of Beach City.

But behind her exuberant and optimistic sister, Spinny failed to share the same cheerful and motivational energy. Slowly taking her steps with caution, moving as if she was on a completely different planet, she raised her wrists to her chest and gripped one of them firmly as if she was trying to keep herself stable.

Nervous, spinning her head from left to right, she stretched a smile that looked rather uncomfortable, taking quick glances at the crowd she was now a part of with concerned eyes as wide as saucers. Despite this, it seemed like no one was paying much attention to her which felt like a slight relief but also a pain that felt too familiar to her.

Nevertheless, Spinny kept herself behind Spinsy, following her as a shy child would with its protective mother. Softly, their feet dipped into the sand and left a trail of footprints that would soon be covered up by the bouncing, lively crowd. From one person to another, everyone's delight connected like a chain, joy spreading like wildfire, but why didn't Spinny share this feeling? She tried to lift her spirits, she desperately wanted to feel involved and joyous with everyone else but this feeling of anxiety kept her shackled to an endless pit of fear and worriment.

Lost in her thoughts of doubt, trapped in trepidation, it became unknown to the gem that Spinsy had stopped in her tracks and somehow, through the healing and funky music that danced in the air, her head bobbed upwards from the barren sand as she heard Steven's voice.

"Hey! There you two are!" He exclaimed, painting a smile on his face. "Nice bowtie, Spinny!"

"Hiya, Steven!" Spinsy greeted brightly, hopping to the hybrid boy.

Failing to share her sister's enthusiasm, Spinny lifted her hand and flicked a wave, "Hey..." She mumbled while forcing a crumpled smile upon her face.

As the twins stood beside each other, Steven raised his hands in excitement, gesturing to the crowd they were in, "How are you two enjoying the party?"

In a voice coated in sweetness, the smaller gem cheered in response, "It's amazing! Just look at how much fun everyone's having!"

"Yeah," Spinny awkwardly agreed with the swoop of her arm, still forcing a smile. "It's... It's something alright!"

"Alright! I'm glad you two are having fun. Oh, and Spinny... Thanks for coming, it means a lot."

"It's no biggie." The gem dismissed in a rather fearful manner, averting her gaze from Steven as she clasped her hands together in hopes to preoccupy her thoughts.

"Hey, you know what you two would love!" Steven exclaimed. "There's a dance contest going on in a couple of minutes, I think both of you should totally enter!"

Upon hearing this, the twins offered two completely different reactions.

The whole of Spinsy's face brightened like a star, grinning from cheek to cheek while her eyes widened in fascination. However, Spinny's face dropped in dismay, looking scared as if she was living a nightmare.

Whirling her head to her sister, the grin on Spinsy's face retreated to a smirk as she spoke, "Whaddya say, Spinny? Wanna join in?"

Pressing her fingers together and shaking, trying to contain her agitation, Spinny began to rapidly nod her head while trembling a laugh out, "Haha! You bet!"

"You heard that, Steven?" The exuberant gem shouted, throwing a thumb to her face as she shined confidence. "You can count us in. Now lead the way!"

As if there were explosions of elation going on inside his brain, Steven's happiness grew as he could feel Spinsy's positivity spreading to him, "You got it! I can't wait to see this, you two are going to be great!"

Swiftly, the hybrid boy twirled himself around and began to casually guide his two friends to their destination.

Following him, Steven and Spinsy both shared the optimism and eagerness in the way they walked. Lightly bobbing their head up and down to the flow of music, yet Spinny remained barren to the feeling of contentment.

All the reasons telling her not to do this came flooding in like she had been caught in a tidal wave. Deep down, Spinny cursed herself for not being able to shake away the clutches of doubt that kept creeping up on her. Keeping her hands clasped together, her fingers sealing around her knuckles, there was a wobble in the way she walked. Why couldn't she escape the confines of her anxiety?

While her mind was swatted with unhealthy thoughts and scary scenarios, the worried gem kept her eyes glued to the sand as her legs shudder. Slowly, her spiky pigtails dropped down as if she was a floppy-eared bunny and soon, she stopped dead in her tracks, gripping her eyes shut in frustration.

Disappointed in herself, Spinny lifted her head calmly and breathed, "Spinsy, I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I just-"

Upon looking up, her eyes bulged out of her head in discomfort and distress, feeling overwhelmed with fear as Spinsy and Steven were no longer in front of her. They were gone, vanished without a trace.

"Spinsy..." She called out with confusion riding her voice.

Finally breaking her hands apart from each other, Spinny began to scan her surroundings, frantically looking from left to right in the crowd that swarmed her. The fears that she had locked deep into her subconscious broke from the chains and began to infect the roots of her mind with terror, dread and panic.

"Spinsy... Steven..." She whimpered, barely hearing her own voice through the music and cheers that bombarded her.

All around the frightened gem, pushing her head back and forth, Spinny turned to the many unfamiliar faces that cramped the area. Their laughter felt like they mocking her, the screaming was taunting her and their smiles ridiculed her. That feeling of fear twisted and sunk her nerves to the point where she could feel herself shaking, shivering and shuddering.

With her lips quivering as if she was a child being separated from her parents, eyes erratically growing wider by the second as her pupils bounced from side to side like a tennis ball, Spinny brought her hands up to her arms and gripped them tightly as if she was trying to hold herself together from falling apart.

Attacked by the loud laughter that bombed her thoughts, the sounds of all humans and gems transformed into white noise, infiltrating the gem's conscious. Unable to think properly, Spinny glanced down to the sand, her lip trembling as she sniffled, tears dwelling in her eyes.

"No... Not again... Not again!"

Quickly, her breathing grew frantic, panic battling her system as she felt alone, abandoned, alienated! Through the white noise that plagued her hearing and mind, she heard a voice, her own voice, but she had no control over it. As the cogs in her mind began to rust, she could feel herself malfunctioning, breaking and cracking from reality.

'They left you!'

"No..." Spinny spat, whirling herself from left to right, trying to shake away the spiteful voice.

'Everyone hates you!'

'Who'd want to be friends with you? You're an emotional wreck! A pathetic mess! An unstable freak!'

"Stop it!"

'If these people even knew you they'd leave you too!'

'You're ruining this for everyone!'

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Spinny whimpered, baring her teeth in agitation as she pulled down on her pigtails. "I'm doing the best I can!"

'If you were a good friend, maybe Pink would still be around!'

The confidence that had been gifted to her by Spinsy departed, now, Spinny couldn't help but feel lost. Stupid. Gullible. To think she could actually be a part of this future. She was right to think everyone hated her, even she did.

Wearing a haunted look, petrified in the eyes as she stood on the edge of terror, the erratic gem looked down to bow tie she was wearing and didn't waste another second. Furiously, her anxiety pushing her and controlling her movement, she crushed the tie and pulled it from her neck, harshly throwing it to the ground.

Undone and ruined, the bright red bow tie rested in the sand. Discarded.

A fire whirled inside her, causing ablaze, an eruption of uncertainty, horror and grief. For her, it was becoming difficult to breathe as her own voice played on a loop in her head, saying the same awful things again and again to no end! Her stress was demanding for a fight, her stomach twisting and turning like a hurricane!

Holding up her hands to her face, unable to remove the stains of guilt from them, she began to sob, "I can't do this! I can't do this!"

Clenching her teeth together in a panic, fear washing over her face, her gaze was the perfect example of someone who had been terrified. Swiftly swirling her head, looking for an opening to escape, Spinny didn't let another second go by as she ran into the crowd of people, slipping past everyone as she struggled to maintain her composure.

Although no one paid any attention to the distraught gem, only one had seen her running off until she was away from everyone's sight.

"Spinny?" Spinsy arched a brow, emerging from the dancing crowd.

Looking to the spot her sister had left, she knelt down and swooped up the ruined bow tie from the sand. As it rested in her hand, confusion and concern all rushed into her system.

For a moment, worriment crossing her expression, Spinsy remained calm and looked back up to the preoccupied group of people. Unable to locate Spinny at first glance, she broke away from her position and ran into the crowd of people without a second thought, searching for her sister.

...

After searching for quite a while, time began to melt and with no luck, Spinsy failed to find Spinny anywhere. It was almost as if she had disappeared. By the time she had reached the beach house, the tired gem rested her hands against her knees and regained her breath, spinning her head and surveying the area from the deck of the house.

"Oh come on, this shouldn't be hard. She looks exactly like me! Why can't I find her!" She said in between breaths.

Picking up the sound of footsteps rapidly pressing against the wooden planks of the stairs, Spinsy turned around and watched Steven approach her, looking saddened as he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Spinsy. I've looked just about everywhere and asked everyone, and nothing. Not even Garnet has seen her."

This time, it was her turn to sigh. As she slowly pushed the air from her mouth, the worried gem crossed her arms and turned to the ocean, letting her arms float down to the wooden handrails of the deck, leaning on it for support.

Unable to fight off the sadness contaminating her system, Spinsy's eyes helpless wandered up to the lonely moon that dwindled in the night sky.

"Where are you Spinny?"

Motivation sparking inside Steven, he approached the dejected gem and secured an arm around her shoulder, smiling, "Hey, don't worry. I'm sure she's still around. We'll find her."

"I know we'll find her, it's just..." Spinsy breathed, looking to the son of Rose Quartz with a guilty expression. "I can't help but feel like it's my fault for driving her away. She's been alone for so long, I thought a party would do her good, but clearly not."

"First I abandon her and now I probably made her feel scared or uncomfortable. Way to go me, right?" She mumbled with the roll of her eyes.

"You can't think like that, Spinsy," Steven said. "You organised something great here tonight and you wanted your sister to be a part of it. I know it wasn't your intentions to make her feel uncomfortable and it certainly isn't your fault that she ran off in such a hurry."

"But-"

"But nothing." He quickly interjected. "You've been a terrific friend to me, to Pearl, to Garnet, to Amethyst, to- to everyone! We know Spinny's been through a lot, but we promised we'd been there for her. We'll find her and we'll help her."

"You did all of this just to make a new start for her and if that doesn't scream: "Best Sister Ever!" I don't know what will," Steven chuckled.

Joining in on the laughter, Spinsy broke away from the handrail of the deck and smiled back at her friend, "Thanks, Steven. That really means a lot."

"I'm just speaking the truth." The hybrid gem confessed, scratching the back of his head as a sheepish smile grew.

"I just hope she understands that I wasn't trying to scare her," Spinsy softly spoke. "I mean, I just wanted us to have fun like we did back in the-"

When that one thought crashed down on her, the pink gem's eyes widened as the words on her tongue died. Like a computer, it almost appeared as if she had frozen.

"Spinsy, is everything okay?" Steven asked with a hint of concern.

Curling her hand into a fist and patting it against her hand, valiance dancing in her eyes, determination graced her words as she reclaimed her voice, "I know where she is!"

...

Instantaneously, a cylindrical beam of bright light materialized from the warp pad, producing a harmonic tune that would bathe anyone in comfort. But not Spinny, her tormented mind failed to pick up the sound due to the frightening thoughts exploding inside her head.

As the lustrous beam of light quickly faded, Spinsy had appeared on the crystalline platform. It hurt to set foot on this withering rock of a garden. However, much to her relief, sticking out like a sore thumb, she had found her other half.

In all her life, the troubled gem had never thought for a moment that she would wind up back in the same place she been abandoned.

Pink Diamond's garden.

Once a playground that radiated fun and peace now eroded into a decaying, lonely rock. Here, time had no concept, no meaning. Everything seemed so lifeless, colourless and meaningless. All pillars were crumbling, cracks swarmed the ground and the plants were dying. Here, everything was withering away.

This place brought back so many memories to the lonely gem, some of them were joyful while most of them were a nightmare to remember. Among the stars, who would have thought this joyful little playmate waited for her friends so faithfully. It hurt to remember.

In the centre of the garden, in the exact spot where she had waited for six thousand years, Spinny sat and hugged her knees, curling herself into a ball in hopes to contain the feeling of grief and sorrow that tried to claw free from her system. Inside her felt like a furnace, a fire that danced and tormented her soul for being so broken.

Silently, her puddled eyes dripped with tears, spilling down her face as she buried her head into her arms, desperately wanting to hide from the universe. The static in her head made it hard to think, she felt like a distressed child, an unwanted toy, a stranger to everyone and herself. Trembling, her lips sealed shut but failed to contain the whimpering and sniffling she was making.

How did this happen? Even she couldn't answer that. The walls of her confidence that had been provided by Spinsy, Steven, the Crystal Gems along with all the other friends she had built a connection to simply collapsed. She felt weak, exhausted and depressed.

For the first time, Spinny felt like she belonged here. Away from life. Alone.

Curled up into her own world of misery, putting her back to the warp pad, Spinny didn't hear the gentle footsteps coming from behind her. As if a building was being demolished, she could feel her strength deteriorating by the second. It hurt.

"Spinny."

Bringing her back to reality, the troubled gem snapped out of her state of grief as she heard a gentle, but frail voice reach to her. With a sniffle, she lifted her watery gaze and twisted her head in alarm as her eyes met her other half.

Not saying another word, Spinsy stood still like a statue, holding her own wrist and staring at the distressed gem with fear and sorrow clutching her pupils.

For a moment, the air was deathly still as if silence had just shattered along with everyone else in the garden.

Trying to stop her crying, the grieving gem couldn't help but feel ridiculous as she brought her arm to her face, wiping away the tears that lingered as she sniffled, "Oh, hey. I- I-"

Unable to properly grip her voice, Spinny just closed her mouth and gave up. Seeing this as her chance to help, Spinsy calmly approached the upset gem and let herself float to the ground, sitting next to her.

"Are you okay?" Although her voice was soft as a pillow, her expression screamed fright. "I saw you run off. What happened?"

Nothing but silence, unresponsive and still, Spinny simply let the tears drip from her face, refusing to acknowledge any of the questions that crossed her path.

This time, a sickening thought crossed Spinsy's mind as she dropped her mouth to unleash a gasp, but bringing her hand to secure it. Horrified at the thought, she spoke in a frail whisper as if she was trying to share a secret, "No one- no one hurt you, did they?"

"No," Spinny trembled out. "No one hurt me, I just- I just felt a bit sick, you know? That's all."

"Please don't do that."

At a loss, Spinny raised her head again, arching a brow and wearing only confusion on her expression.

"Please don't lie to me," Spinsy told, but still keeping her voice soft and encouraging.

Slowly, the grieving gem pivoted her head and sulked back into her arms, trying everything in her power to fight off the tears brewing in her eyes. Keeping her lips concealed, it looked as if she was trying to mentally stitch them shut. Her sister could tell it was obvious she didn't want to share whatever feelings enthralled her gem.

"I... I know it's hard to talk about these feelings, but you're not alone anymore. You can tell me."

Haltingly, her breathing began to quicken, a sign that panic and fear was gripping her neck and rattling her breath.

"I want to be there for you so please, talk to me." Her sister said assuringly.

As her spiky pigtails flopped down, unlocking a sigh of exhaustion, Spinny looked to the crumbling and dirty fountain with wide, puddled eyes. It took up all of her strength to open her mouth as if a million cogs began to turn inside her.

With her lip trembling, she finally forced out her words with a shaky voice that was tainted in dejection, "It doesn't feel like I left."

This time, it was Spinsy's turn to hike a brow. But despite her confusion, she remained silent and allowed Spinny to share her worries.

"No matter where I go or where I'm at, it always feels like a part of me is still intact with this place. For six thousand years, I never got used to the silence... I never got used to being so lonely, but now, ever since I've tried fitting in, there are these horrible thoughts that I can't control. Voices telling me I'm worthless, that I'm not good enough. Sometimes, it's my voice and that's when it becomes terrifying."

Pausing herself on and off, eyes welling with tears and stammering interfering with her speech. Brick by brick, the gem was falling apart, unable to contain her grief as her lips began to quiver while her breath trembled.

"I can't get it to stop!"

Watching her sister break down into tears pierced her with sympathy and heartache, Spinsy's face lifted with sorrow. Carrying her voice with a gentle tone, she brought up her gloved hands to ease her other half, murmuring, "Hey, hey, Spinny... It's okay. It's okay."

"No, it's not!" Spinny snapped, her glare forming like daggers and frustration taking control over her shouting. "It's anything but okay!"

Alarmed by her erratic change in emotion, dismay rattling her, Spinsy winced from her sister and proceeded to give her space. However, she watched as her heated glare burnt down into a look of regret and shame.

Sniffling, letting the pear-shaped tears slide down her cheeks, Spinny fought back the pain and whimpered, "I tried to kill Steven, I tried to destroy all life on Earth, I wanted to hurt you, to make you share my pain, hoping you'd suffer like I did and now I'm invited to a party where I have to dance and cheer with the people I nearly killed. It feels like everyone's wearing a mask, like they're trying to force a smile around me as if I did nothing wrong. I should just stay here, this is where they'd want me."

"They're not like that, I assure you," Spinsy assured. "The people of Beach City, they... They're special to us. They've learnt a lot from us and we've learnt a lot from them. They're kind and accepting."

"So they're all like Steven?" Spinny responded with a grumble, rolling her eyes. "Do you wanna know why he infuriates me so much? Why I find it so difficult to talk to him?

As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain in her voice seeped through as she stared back at her other half, "Pink... Whenever I'm near him, I can't get over how much I miss her."

Fighting back the grief that caged her, the hurt gem carried on, regaining her breath with a shudder, "But then I get to remember how she avoided me. How she hated me... How she abandoned me... and then I get to feel the resentment for her. All. Over. Again."

"For six thousand years, I didn't move!" She began to weep, clenching her teeth in aggravation. "I didn't do anything because I trusted her! Because I thought she'd actually come back for me!"

"I just wish I could have found out what was wrong with me sooner before she threw me away. What I could have done better. What I could have done to be more like you," Spinny whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and sinking back down into a pit of depression.

Sadness and shock played around with Spinsy's feelings while her eyes shifted downwards for a moment, becoming glazed with a crystal layer of tears. Hearing out all of her sister's troubles upset her deeply, but this is just what she needed to help. To talk.

"No, no, Spinny, there's nothing wrong with you, there was never anything wrong with you to begin with." She cooed.

"But Pink-"

"Look," Spinsy interjected, gently reaching for her sister's hand.

Confused, feeling the warmth of her other half's touch, she watched as Spinsy's gloves wrapped around her own, lightly holding them. Slowly, she watched as her sister began to ascend from the ground and without realising it, she had joined in on the motion. Now on her feet, Spinny didn't squirm or struggle, she allowed her twin to gently hold her hands.

"Pink may have been our Diamond, but that doesn't mean she knew everything, nor did she know what was best. She was foolish to leave you here and I'm no better for blindly following her," Spinsy said, averting her gaze in shame and guilt.

"I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye, I thought that saying nothing would have made it easier for you, but it was wrong and selfish of me to make that call."

It didn't take long for Spinsy to work up the courage to face her again, it sparked in her like a lighter as she continued, "If it's anything, Pink was the one that needed changing, not you. If she couldn't appreciate you for who were then or who you are now, then that was her problem. Not yours."

"Deep down, I know you're gonna do great in Beach City. There are so many people just waiting to be friends with you, even if they don't know it! You're destined for greatness and best of all, I'm gonna be there, by your side! Catching every bit of the joy you'll be spreading!" The smaller gem told, bubbling with delight as she slowly released her grip from Spinny.

Upon releasing her sister hands' Spinsy stared at her with confidence and glee lifting a smile.

Trembling, Spinny's lips began to curl upwards, although, her eyes gleamed with tears. Nochanataly, she took a step forward and wrapped her arms her other half, bringing her into a hug. Spinsy, of course, was caught by surprise, feeling her sister's face plant into her shoulder, softly crying into her.

Growing a small smile, gently dropping her eyes shut, Spinsy returned the embrace and allowed her voice to retreat to its light, airy tone, "Shh... It's okay," She whispered as if she was a mother trying to ease her child. "No one ever said fitting in would be easy, but you've made a perfect start. With me, with Steven, with the Crystal Gems. We're your family now and we always will be. We're never going to leave you, no matter what."

In tears of delight, working up a smile, Spinny unlocked her arms for her sister and stepped back, responding with a sniffle, "I believe you, you know why?"

"Why?" Spinsy tilted her head with the pair of heart-shaped buns styled on her hair following in sync.

"Because... The moment I started telling you how I feel... It's been quiet... No horrible thoughts, no voices. I feel like... Me again."

"See! Things are startin' to look better already!" She cheered. "I know it wasn't easy, but... Thanks for talking to me."

"Thanks for listening," Spinny responded shyly.

Rubbing the back of her head and constructing a smirk, Spinsy rolled her eyes and spoke in a tune, "You know, I'm sure the party still happening back on Earth. Do you wanna join in? I mean, that's if you want to, of course. We can do something else if you'd like-"

Pinching up her smile, Spinny answered, "I think I'd like to join in on that dance. Whadda ya say?"

For a moment, stunned with joy, the smaller gem nodded her head in excitement, "You betcha!" She grinned, but quickly exclaiming, "Oh! Before we go, I need to give you this."

Unexpectedly, Spinny watched as her sister stretched her arms to her neck, gently fastening something around her. Hiking a brow and adjusting her head upwards, the gem's magenta eyes sprung downwards the moment Spinsy's arms retracted back to her side.

Around her neck, she could make out the big red bow tie she had discarded. Elation taking control of her expression, Spinny lightly pressed her hands against the bow tie and regained her smile.

"Thank you."

...

In the crystal-domed conservatory, the cylindrical beam of bright light raced down from the depths of space, producing its angelic tune as the twins teleported back onto the warp pad. Spinsy and Spinny stood next to each other, side by side as if they were looking into a mirror, sharing a smile as they could hear distant music, laughter, cheering and it all felt different to Spinny. She didn't feel frightened by it, it didn't alarm her or anything of the sort. In fact, she shared the same delight her sister did.

"Hey!" A voice called from the entrance of the conservatory.

Whipping their heads to the door, the twins watched as Steven raced towards them, "There you two are! Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine now, Steven," Spinsy eased with the swipe of her hand.

Pushing out a sigh of relief, the hybrid gem rubbed his arm and spoke, "Great! Uh, hey... Spinny. Look, sorry if I pressured you into coming here tonight, I just thought-"

"Ah, you've got nothing to apologise for, Universe," Spinny interjected with the sway of her hand. "Let's just have fun tonight, like friends."

Blinking in response, Steven found himself in awe, he couldn't recall a moment where Spinsy's twin had spoken to him with such ease and confidence. Nevertheless, he chuckled, "Yeah, sounds great. You know, that dance contest is still going on, you two still up for it?"

As Spinsy whirled her head to her sister, she waited for her to answer.

No longer frightened, feeling nothing but serenity fill her system, she spoke softly and answered, "I think I'd like that."

#Heart AU #heart au writing #spinel #steven universe #fanfic

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smridhistone · 2 years

Text

How To Choose Kitchen Marble ?

Choosing the right slab of marble for your kitchen counter, on the other hand, can be challenging if you don't know what to look for. You must know how to select marble from the moment you enter the shop.

Things to Consider When chooseing Marble Here are some things to consider:

Call ahead of time

Do some research before entering the marble facility. Determine which marble colors you want, how much you need, and the dimensions you require.

Inquire About Origin

Color of Marble

Not only is white marble available, but also green, gold, taupe, red, and black marble. While those colours are appealing, they may not be the best choice for your kitchen countertops.

There will be fissures and cracks.

Concerning The Veining

Quarries each have their own way of cutting marble to achieve different effects in the stone. Marble blocks can be carved in a variety of ways to produce variations in veining.

Togetherness and Seams

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 years

Note

Prompt for Braime (or someone else if the fancy strikes you): Baisemain - A kiss on the hand.

It only took approximately 2 months for me to fill this prompt, but here it finally is! My longest finished work as of yet. I hope you enjoy!

Big shoutout to @nire-the-mithridatist for making it a lot more presentable as well as whole bunch of people I don’t want to tag but named in my AO3 notes.

Jaime insists on accompanying her back to her light freighter that is docked in the bay of Lannister command ship.

They do not speak as they walk side by side. Some of the crew throw them curious glances, but most are absorbed in their work. She grips the lion pommel, tries not to think of how she had tried to give him back the priceless relic. It's made of Valyrian steel no one could replicate even a thousand years later. It belongs by his side or in a museum, but now she can only think of the way his voice dipped when he said It’s yours. It will always be yours, the words reverberating in their footsteps and it’s all she can feel in the familiar smoothness of hilt, like a new gem encrusted in it and Brienne traces over it with tentative appreciation.

They face each other for goodbyes, one final one they may have a chance to say to each other, and for a brief moment, she wishes she had an eye implant that’d burn his features into its memory card - the curl of his mouth around a comment layered with things she cannot quite decipher, a few graying hairs and the lines worn into his face by age and regret (and loneliness, she thinks). But at least this way, no one can ever take it away from her.

“Good luck, though I doubt the steadfast Maid of Tarth is in need of such trite things.”

“If the Blackfish is as you describe, I am sure it will be his niece’s letter, not favor of luck, that will win him over. But I do hope it will be my side nonetheless. I do not wish to face you on the battlefield, Ser Jaime, as honor would compel me, should my mission fail.” The lion head feels heated in her palm, as if the forge it was made in resents her for the thought of striking down the man who gave it to her. It wouldn’t be a choice, she tells herself. There is never a choice when it comes to Jaime Lannister.

“I am not much of an opponent anymore, as you very well know from our spars. You have little to worry about, my lady.”

She doesn’t have the clever tongue to rebuke him without saying too much, without revealing the dread that pulsates in her heart at the thought of seeing him fall in a fight, whether by her own sword or anyone else’s weapon. But the way Jaime mocks himself, even though the fact of their parting itself is exact opposite of all he believes himself to be, is one battlefield she’ll meet him on readily.

“You underestimate yourself in the most important matters again, Ser Jaime.” She thinks she succeeds in saying it lightly, reminding him that he is, indeed, too haughty in some ways, in attempt to get a rise out of him, but it lands flat, as all her attempts at banter do.

“And you hold me in too high esteem.” The depreciation in his tone, laced with challenge and dusted with sadness makes Brienne wish she could… She doesn’t know what exactly, but there is a physical ache in her hands, almost as if to hold him. It must be from the way she’s gripping onto Oathkeeper.

“Despite everything, you always manage to exceed my expectations when it matters. I believe that will remain true in the future, too. Goodbye, Ser Jaime.” She must go now, before she finds words for that glowing ache now nestled in her chest as well (if she does, they will burst through her very skin, she fears), so she turns on her heel sharply.

"Brienne."

She stops, his hand so warm around her own, and unexpectedly gentle, but stronger than any tractor beam as Jaime softly tugs her to turn around and face him.

There's no time for this, she wants to say, even without knowing what this is, but even holding to Oathkeeper's hilt doesn't help find her voice, likely lost in the endless forest of his eyes.

"For the next time." He brings her large, calloused hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles reverently, lingering there and then brushing downward and over her ring finger, as tenderness in his eyes shifts into something Brienne understands even less. The trail burns in her mind as if traced by molten gold. The meaning of it does, too, and she flushes, unsure how to accept or reject such an honor. She has half a mind to argue, but there is pride in her, too.

Before she can decide which way to leave the warm current drowning her, Jaime speaks up again: "We will meet again." It sounds like an oath. No one has sworn one to her. She doesn't know how to accept it, there is nothing in all of the volumes of Vows and Oaths through Millennia about anything like this, so she merely nods stiffly, hoping it will not become one of those conflicting oaths he spoke of when they first met.

"Ser Brienne," Podrick calls for her and the way his voice breaks on her name alarms her. The young man's eyes are wider and rounder than she has ever seen, which is saying something, locked on their hands and she cannot blame him - it is not every day that the best swordsman in perhaps the whole galaxy admits to finding someone superior. She pulls away abruptly, dispelling the image of how easily her huge hands could cradle his face, but the realization of how ridiculous it would look doesn't vanish as easily.

"Ser Jaime," her voice finally emerges, rough as if it had to fight its way back to her, “until our paths cross again.” Jaime smiles, then, and it is more blinding than sun rays falling right into her eyes back when she used to lay beneath trees back on Tarth on early, lazy afternoons. She must’ve said the right thing, then.

She feels his gaze on her back, as keenly as she’d feel the laser crosshairs of a rifle, but Brienne trusts him not to press the trigger. More than she did when she stepped in this bay, or maybe not, because her belief in him is already a spire that has reached the dome of the sky. It makes sense in ways she cannot explain.

Jaime is still standing where she left him when she brushes past her flustered squire into the cockpit. As the engine roars to life, Jaime raises a hand in wave and though she knows he cannot see it through the quartz glass, she mirrors the gesture, but then drops her arm awkwardly and begins compiling everything she can find on Weirnet about the Blackfish, as the ship starts to approach the siege line. She will not waste this opportunity he has given her.

When the Tully fleet moves past. The Lannister blockade that night, she wonders if he’d smile at her and tell her once more that he’s proud, just as he had done back in King’s Landing when he had given her rank of Knight Commander. Brienne likes to imagine that he would.

And when a week later, Pod asks her if she’s going to accept, her confused scowl sends him backtracking out of the conversation and the room, and Brienne forgets it almost immediately, because they’re approaching Winterfell sector and there are bigger things to think about.

Yellow alert lights wash everything in a sickly toned, dim mockery of sunlight and perhaps it is the last one they will ever have. If Winterfell falls, so does the sector, and then the galaxy will inevitably follow, dimming and fading under all consuming strength of the White Walkers.

The thought is grim and all too plausible, so Brienne focuses on the task at hand instead.

There is the sound of rushing beyond the doors, people moving to their positions as battle already rages above them in space. But there is silence in the room, except for the soft rustling of the padded undergarments, clinks of metal sliding against metal as they finish donning their armors.

She finishes first, turns to Jaime to help. His prosthetic hand is state-of-the-art, but sometimes it fumbles still and she wonders if it's because of nerve damage he sustained.

The last concealed straps and seams close under her fingers swiftly and then there is only silence. Brienne means to move back, she should, but he captures her hand, brings it up in the almost non-existent space between their bodies.

"For after," his voice is low and heavy. She swallows thickly as if his words got stuck in her throat somehow. And then his lips press to the back of her gloved hand, but the golden heat of him sinks through, drips into her veins.

He lifts his head and as his right arm wraps around her waist, Brienne thinks that maybe his mouth will trace hers like his gaze does and —

The alarms turn red, the new tone of it shooting through her and she startles just so, flushing further because Jaime must have felt it in this proximity.

But he doesn't laugh at her, does nothing really, so she steps away first. "For after," she echoes his words. Brienne isn't sure what he meant, perhaps a good luck charm of sorts - that there will be an after.

Or maybe it has become an oath now.

III

The Grand Hall of Winterfell is full with people, but she thinks it feels so much more packed and hollow all at once for the intangible presence of all the men and women who died so the suns would always rise across the galaxy.

She is lucky, she knows, for those most dear to her heart are all here, in her line of sight, raising their cups and laughing, even. But she lost many good people on the battlefield, people who looked up to her and whom she could rely on, to the moment they drew their last breath and then she had to cut them down again and that is the blood that had stained her hands and armor the most.

Most of the blood has been washed away, yet somehow taints the edges of her vision nonetheless, only gradually wiped away by the rise and fall of merriment around her - there is so much laughter from everyone, including Podrick just a little away and even Lady Sansa, by whose side she faithfully stands still.

Her gaze trips over Jaime’s, who is sitting opposite to Podrick, not for the first time tonight, and though there’s been no chains between them for a long time, Brienne feels linked to him all the same, drawn in with tugs far gentler than she used to give him. Yet she does not, will not, move.

“You are free to go to him, Ser Brienne. You know that.”

Lady Sansa’s voice carries a tone of resigned irritation and amusement all at once, as if she is trying to guide a child to some obvious answer, but the child keeps insisting on picking every other option.

It takes her a moment, but when she looks at her Lady, Brienne realizes she’s the child and one that doesn’t even know what the question is.

“Lady Sansa, I am where I am supposed to be.”

“I am quite safe here, thank you, and I am sure you will be able to make your way back to me in no time, if need arose, Ser Brienne. Just go to your squire. And Lannister.”

That she only mentions one Lannister, when there are, in fact, two, sitting side by side, does not go by Brienne unnoticed, but she is unsure how to handle the implications, even in the privacy of her own mind. So, she hesitates.

Lady Sansa doesn’t.

“I will trust the man more if I know you are the one responsible for what goes in his astromech port. Don’t lose that on my account.”

Brienne bristles at that, more on Jaime’s behalf than the impossible suggestion that she has some importance in his life. (It just stings distantly, like a limb that has gone to sleep, a reminder of things that she’d like to hold, but cannot.) Though she, frankly, doesn’t appreciate the tone and odd wording it's said in, either. “I am not his keeper and Ser Jaime is capable of earning trust himself, should you give him chance.”

“I will be more inclined to give him that chance if I know his heart is content and here.”

She didn’t think it was possible to choke on an inhale, yet that’s what Brienne does. The breath just hitches, knocks against her windpipe wrong somehow, and she focuses on Oathkeeper's hilt in her palm as if its sturdiness could anchor the air and her feelings both.

“My Lady, I… I don’t know why you would think that- that Ser Jaime harbors any such feelings for me, but let me reassure you that we are not involved. He would never see me in such a light.” She feels like a child again, stumbling through her courtesies in front of her angry Septa. No, it reminds her more of when Cersei Lannister had smiled, words filed down into fine dagger points - But you love him.

At least that had been true. And she hadn’t needed to explain with burning, bitter words how improbable it is for Jaime to think of her as anything but respected comrade, a friend if she is so lucky. Or unfortunate, as most would think, but Brienne knows there are few loyalties so bone-deep as his. Which makes the thought he’d pick her even more of a caricature. Cersei may be a White Dwarf, cold and unlikely to nurse a life in her orbit, but she is a star nonetheless, while Brienne is just…

“Brienne.” Sansa’s hand is warm as she rests it lightly over Brienne’s own and she coaxes it to relax, knowing her stance is being read like a plain and badly bound book.

“Tonight, we celebrate victory in war that could hardly be won. Perhaps it is time to think about what we can do with that hard-earned life. Who we wish to spend it with. And to re-evaluate what we thought to be impossible odds. I assure you, they are not so unlikely.”

It is almost gently said, but wields the same sort of steel that Lady Catelyn had always carried with her. And Brienne doesn’t have the kind of sword that could block its edge.

“Lady Sansa. Ser Brienne.”

Sansa removes her hand and smiles almost graciously at Jaime. There is sharpness to her eyes and Brienne knows him well enough to know this time it genuinely needles him, for some reason. Yet, he doesn’t ask for permission, looks only at her: “I need to speak with Ser Brienne. Privately.”

With a widening smile, gilded with victorious gleam, Lady Sansa nods. “About time, Ser Jaime. Go on, Ser Brienne. Take all the time you need.”

Since she would rather face whatever Jaime has to say than continue previous conversation with her Lady, Brienne bows to her and then follows the other knight. They don’t go far - he rounds her into one of the quiet rooms, drowning in the light of both moons high in Winterfell sky.

She can still hear revelry from the huge hall and even where some of the crowd has spilled into the corridors, but otherwise silence has settled between them and it feels heavy in ways it hasn’t in years. There has been so much said tonight, she doesn’t entirely trust her own thoughts or tongue if she was to interrupt it. Besides, Jaime had said he wished to speak, yet all he does is pace in front of her with unfamiliar tenseness that sets her heart on edge.

“Will you stop that,” she snaps at him, because that she knows how to do. Jaime does and she immediately wishes she had remained silent, because now he’s looking directly at her and she has to face the tension in his eyes, his mouth.

The silence stretches, vibrates in the tempo of her uneasy heartbeat. “You said you wished to talk.”

“I thought you might have something to say to me, Brienne.” He looks as if he is planning to break a siege line alone, no matter what damage he might sustain.

It makes no sense. Nothing does.

“I don’t.” (She does, but there are no words that would not turn to mud on her tongue and leave her drowning when he laughs her off.)

“Is that your answer?” Jaime sounds choked and the sound goes straight to her stomach, drags it downward as if someone had turned gravity setting up too far on a space station.

She doesn’t know how to fix something she cannot even see or name, yet she feels it breaking with her whole being.

“To what?”

There is a pause and then something in Jaime’s demeanour changes, eases up in a way that lets her stomach unclench a little. She will take the first hints of cocksure grin any day, though it has never meant anything safe. It makes her think of moonlight’s bridge across Tarth’s waters - gorgeous, alluring, but following it will do you no good.

So Brienne almost steps back when he comes towards her, but decides to stand her ground. Takes a deep breath which he might feel more than she did, at this proximity.

“Do you really not know? Or this is just an excuse to have me ask you a third time? I did not think you to be so coy, Brienne.” His hand seeks out hers, startling her, but Brienne can’t look away from his face just in case it finally reveals a clue to this entire bizarre conversation.

“Ask me what?” she tries to clarify, the stupidity of the question far greater than the volume of her voice.

Jaime brings their joined hands up, presses warm lips to her knuckles, lingering there and then moving to her ring finger as he had back in Riverrun (she has memorized and traced these spots so often in the dark of her bunk she can tell he is centimeter off at the start), pressing another kiss there. She cannot see the green of his eyes, which she mourns, but at least he cannot discern the blush overtaking her face either.

Still holding her hand, he leans closer to her and huffs faintest laugh. Part of her retreats in armor which is more familiar to her than the blue set Jaime had given her, preparing for a hailstorm of laughter and mockery. But it sounds so relieved somehow. “You truly don’t know,” Jaime says and more of his tension seems to turn to smoke before her eyes.

“What do you think this means?” he asks, squeezing her hand before entwining their fingers. Brienne shivers, takes a moment to find her voice.

“That you respect me. It’s a sign of reverence, is it not?” It feels like she is so close to the exit from some wicked maze, but she still has no idea what she will find. Jaime drags her onward nonetheless.

“In a way, that is true. I do respect you, Brienne. More than anyone.” She smiles, before she can help it. It’s one thing to feel it pressed into her skin and another - to hear it. His grin widens in return, before faltering briefly and the hopeful, edged look in his eyes is that of a man who gives her axe to decapitate him with, yet trusts her not to.

“But I was asking you to marry me.”

This can’t be real is her first thought, and maybe it also floats out along with a soft, shocked gasp. Maybe he is drunk or maybe she’s been drugged and having an intense hallucination or the blow to Jaime’s head was more severe than she had thought. How can a hand kiss even mean that? Though it would explain Podrick’s reaction back at Riverrun siege.

“Brienne,” he brings her disorganized thoughts to halt with low murmur. Lets her hand go and she has only a split-second to miss it, because then he is cupping her jaw and kissing her. It’s a soft, tender press of his lips, but it steals her breath away nonetheless and she clutches a the lapels of his Lannister red jacket. (The gall of him to wear it, in the heart of Winterfell. The gall of him to kiss her so gently it actually makes her feel so frail she might shatter.)

At her touch, he surges upward and what has been soft becomes heated and desperate. His right arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer and his left hand mimics the way hers has sunk into his hair. Her mouth gives his tongue entrance and in exchange, Brienne loses her sense of time, of anything that’s not Jaime.

Finally they part and somehow, she is now pressed against the wall she refused back to at the start of their conversation. It’s a good thing, Brienne decides, because her knees feel a little wobbly. And despite all logic, she feels secure instead of trapped. But is it truly so illogical, when there is no one she trusts more than Jaime? Even now, when he is saying things she has a hard time believing, his sincerity undoes her doubts, takes old exchanges into gentle hands and shifts them into new focus that somehow makes sense. (She hasn’t known before, how it is to be looked at with love, but she knows him.)

“I would like to hear you say it,” he whispers against her mouth, the vulnerability he reveals in his tone almost like a kiss on its own.

And for that alone she finds an answer easily, if otherwise she would hesitate, worry even when faced with his genuineness, overthink the mere probability and what it all means for their future. Now that she is given a choice in regards to him, any other option still blurs out and becomes inconsequential.

“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Jaime.”

His smile makes twin moons’ light look washed out. “I love you,” Jaime tells her between kisses, peppered on her lips (that they’re so large almost doesn’t feel like a bad thing when he gently bites her bottom one), her cheeks, jawline, before coming back to her mouth.

“This is rather backwards, don’t you think?” she muses, still reeling from his words and having given up on piecing together a map of the maze that led them here. Later, she will have questions to ask. Now she has Jaime to get lost in. (Openly - no more stolen dreams of brief touches. They - he - can be hers now.)

“You already said yes.” He pulls back just so, looking at her intently as if she could be having second thoughts. Brienne holds his face in her hands, realizes it might look as ridiculous as she had thought, but the way he leans into her touch renders it meaningless.

“I did. I do. I love you.”

Then she is kissing him, thankful for the wall behind her and that they were told to take as much time they need, because she doesn’t think she can let him go any time soon.

Brienne is sitting in the cockpit, watching the blur of Hyperspeed dissolve into familiar expanse of Stormlands sector before they make the jump to Tarth, when Jaime comes in. He stops next to the pilot’s chair and picks up her hand from where it is resting, presses kiss to it. Brushes his thumb over the golden band on her ring finger and his soft smile fills her chest with such warmth she realizes this is homecoming in its own right.

“I already said yes in Sept, Jaime, in case you forgot,” she teases, as if her own heart is not still adjusting to the vastness it is now allowed to explore - loving and being with Jaime, the concept of having a family with him. There had been some long and serious conversations in the days after proposal and part of her still did not feel it was real, but in a bright warmth sort of way, instead of dreading when it all would fall apart.

“As if I could. But I don’t intend on stopping kissing any part of you, just because you’re my wife. Besides, the meaning shifts once an engagement is established.” The way he says it makes her shiver a little, recall all the places he had kissed mere hours ago. It’s exactly what he intended, she knows.

“That seems unnecessarily complicated.” If there will be a time when Brienne doesn’t make fun of the fact that a lot of fraught emotions could have been avoided if only Jaime had used his words, which he is usually in no shortage of, it is not going to be soon. “Much like the ruling house of Westerlands, I suppose.”

He sits down on the armrest, still holding her hand and grins down at her. “Bold words for someone married to a Lannister.” The way he manages to weave the fact they’re married in almost any sentence is obnoxious. Secretly, she basks in the fact wife must taste as honey-sweet and addicting on his tongue as husband does on hers.

“Who else will tell you like it is?”

“Plenty of people, but there is no one else I would listen to.” Jaime’s voice is more soft than teasing, it almost overwhelms her again. His love is much like a tide she has watched slowly rising, not believing it even as it already washed around her ankles and kept rising higher. And when it finally swept over her completely, Brienne had discovered that instead of drowning, she could swim in it instead, like her lungs had been made for exploring these depths.

“As if you listen to me,” she tells him. It’s not an accusation, just a reminder that she wishes he would be more accepting of her kinder words, her faith in him. But they have years to gently wear down the self-denigration in each other’s eyes, lull it to sleep and hold the other through the hours and days it screams louder than any storm.

“Yet Lady Sansa implied the same on the night of the feast,” Brienne muses, recalling how disbelieving she had been, more hurt than encouraged.

“Did she, now? It was quite unnerving to watch the two of you talking. You hadn’t given an answer yet and I doubted she would say anything in my favor. Perhaps I was wrong.” The unspoken peace agreement between Jaime and Sansa is fragile and there seems to have been at least one conversation that Brienne hadn’t been part of, which is mildly worrying, but she will take it.

“She did tell me that my fears were unfounded and she would trust you more if I was responsible for your astromech port, which is an odd way to speak about my influence on your decision making.”

Jaime’s choked laugh surprises her: “The Stark queen isn’t so straight-laced after all, it seems.” She frowns up at him in confusion.

“Brienne,” he says slowly then, with a widening grin, “she wasn’t talking about decision making.”

Jaime stands up, gently pulling her with him, eyes squinted just so and darkened to the shade of forest just before nightfall, which she’s slowly growing familiar with. It ignites a slow, but all consuming fire in her belly with a consistency she finds quite dangerous. (Or would, if she wasn’t so happy to burn to the ground and come alive again in his arms.)

“What do you mean?” Brienne asks, almost suspiciously.

In response, he kisses her slowly, deeply and just before she submerges fully in the feeling, takes a step back. “Come and I will show you.”

She follows him without another question. Perhaps she should be worried about Jaime’s unbridled, simmering delight with sinful edge, about her father who is expecting their arrival any minute now, but she cannot find it in her. It is their honeymoon, after all.

Brienne is sure he will understand.

#Braime #Braime ff #Braime fanfic #Brienne of Tarth #Jaime Lannister #got #rainy writes stuff #my fic #Phew #I somehow had to format this by hand again and it took a while #firesign23 #sent on a cloud

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