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darklordazalin · 10 months

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Ravenloft Lore Tuesdays: Forlorn Part 2

Domain focuse of June: Forlorn Domain Formation: 547 BC Darklord: Tristen ApBlanc Lore: The Druids of Forlorn

After a couple weeks off to refresh my mind, let’s delve back into the legends and lore of the Domain of Forlorn. Forlorn is heavily influenced by Celtic tales and culture with a focus on the preservation of nature against those who would corrupt it. There are no settlements in Forlorn, only ruins of old farm houses and what once was a same town. The once vast forested landscape is continuously under attack by Tristen’s goblyns; the Darklord taking delight in ordering his minions to burn and cut down as much as they can. He is a sad, petty creature…and much like a child with a favorite toy, he’d rather see his land destroyed than enjoyed by another.

Only the sacred groves remain untouched as the Druids of Forlorn are forever diligent in their protection. The Druids fight against Tristen and his minions in order to restore balance over the land, but how that restoration is to be achieved has divided the Druids into two factions – one led by Shelaugh and one led by Maeve. Shelaugh, who’s people have taken the symbol of the rowan berries believe that to restore the balance between good and evil they must attack those on the side of evil directly. Maeve, who’s people have taken the symbol of the oak tree, believe that they must recruit more good into the land of Forlorn for it is more appropriate for those individuals to fight directly against evil than the Druids themselves. This is all a bit arbitrary and given the nature of these lands trapped in the mists, neither faction will ever reach their goal.

Regardless of the faction they serve, all Druids are devoted to protecting their scared groves. Within these ancient stands, the Druids are fully connected with nature and, in their belief, the deities they worship. When praying here, the Druids abilities are more potent. Before the Mists stole them from their homes, the Druids worships many nature deities. Now, however, they only worship two - Belenus, the god of sun and fire, and Daghdha, the good of weather and crops.

A rather interesting trait and commonly held belief among the Druids of Forlorn is that natural born redheads have stronger and innate druidic magic as if the land itself gifts redheads with these abilities. Fascinatingly, the brighter the red of the individual’s hair, the stronger their gifts. An experimentation on these redhead’s genetics may be in order. These redheads are trained at a young age on how to access and control their innate abilities as to let them develop on their own often has disastrous results.

How to Use this Lore in Your Games

The obvious use of the Druidic Factions, especially if you have a Druid player, is to have each faction attempt to recruit the PCs. But what if we took this a little farther? The Druid Factions, though in disagreement with one another, do not actively fight each other…but what if some outside force was making it appear as if they were? Clear evidence is found from both sides indicating that the other faction is being actively attacked by the other. This could give the characters an interesting mystery to solve and perhaps even get the two Factions to actively work together against their true enemy.

The sacred groves can be used for a place of rest for PCs that have gained the Druids of Forlorn’s trust and potentially as a place where they may have a rare chance to form a true connection with their deity. A cleric born in Ravenloft operates on faith alone, but imagine if they prayed in one of the sacred groves and their prayers were answered? That would be a life-changing experience for that character.

Redheads in Ravenloft are often tied to magic and innocence. After all, it all started with a redhead. If you have a PC with red hair, they could be originally from Forlorn and perhaps gain the Druid Initiate Feat when they enter Forlorn. For potential NPCs, a redhead who was not trained to control their powers could cause all sorts of issues for the PCs and the Druids of Forlorn. Perhaps the PCs are hired to find this individual before they do too much harm to the land? Perhaps Tristen wants to get ahold of them himself and use them for his own purposes. A powerful, uncontrolled redhead with fire abilities could grant Tristen a way to destroy more of the Druid’s trees they hold so dear.

#Ravenloft Lore Tuesdays #folrorn #tristen apblanc #druid #ravenloft #azalin rex #what's with ravenloft and redheads anyway?

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jaydenchip404 · 14 days

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Chosen Names

I need to step back and restart. Evaluate how I feel from a different perspective or from a blank slate. I need to be removed from what I WANT and focus on what I AM.

This is as if labels weren't a thing:

So for the longest time, I've always hated my name; it just never felt right. I've always loved different names, mainly "Olivia", and I desperately wanted a nickname, to the point of telling new people the wrong name—the name I wanted them to be called. As I grew up, I noticed how many people didn't even know how to pronounce my given name, which was very off putting, and it was a pain in the ass to explain to people how to pronounce my name. My own doctor called me by the wrong name. So I just started going by "Jayden". It was better, and for the longest time, I was very happy with that name. I told everyone that was MY name. The last six months have been rough for me, both for personal offline reasons and for queer identity reasons. I've started to not like the name Jayden, not hate it, but I just like it less; it gives me less euphoria than it used to, so I've started to use it less and less. Somedays, I go, "My name is Jayden", and for that day, yes, my name IS Jayden, and all other names make me HIGHLY uncomfortable. Some days, all names make me HIGHLY uncomfortable, and I prefer to be called nothing, but this has only happened twice. Somedays, I'm even called by my dead name even outside of my family (this is in the context of me still being in the closet), but most of the time I cringe when I see, hear, or read my dead name; it makes me feel icky inside, like what a kid feels when they know they're doing something bad but they still do it, but most days, I really like being called "Rowan". I tell EVERYONE this is my name. I considered this name once, went by it for a couple of days, and then dropped it, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I just couldn't stop thinking about the name Rowan. Rowan is a gender-neutral name of Irish and Scottish origins, deriving from Ruadhán, meaning "little redhead". A strong surname, Rowan is also as beloved in nature as it is in folklore. The rowan tree was thought to protect against witchcraft and enchantment, and today it grows as a deciduous tree that produces red berries in the autumn. I LOVE the name Rowan, but on different days I prefer to be called different names. It really just depends on what I feel like that day.

What does this describe?

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kittypokemuses · 10 months

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Doting on Daisies: Part 1/?

Ahh, a perfectly pleasant Pastoria City day… The sun was shining brightly in the sky after days of rain, casting a soft warmth over the town and reflecting in a faint rainbow. It was truly beautiful, something she loved above this town. Sure, all the rain could be dreary at times, but it revitalized the lush plant life and encouraged water Pokemon to venture across the land. It also made the sunny days all the more wonderful. While not uncommon, she still felt such a day was important to enjoy. Abigail soon found herself standing on the porch of her well tended house and taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. This was certainly the perfect day to enjoy a nice long walk with her overly tall daughter who was always kind enough to keep her strides short. ...Shame she wasn’t home… The deep breath was let out in a defeated sigh. Shaking her head, the mother found herself thinking aloud. “Oh, Audrey, I miss you already.” While she couldn’t be more happy and proud of her daughter, living on the college campus meant sparse visits. “You’d better have a good time there,” she chuckled to herself and stepped down from the porch onto the path. As per usual, the visiting Pokemon, two cute little Starly and a glimmering Kricketune this time, fled from her presence and back towards the treeline. The wild Pokemon may adore the berry trees her family grew, but didn’t care much for the family themselves. The redhead couldn’t much blame them, given it was a gym town and there was no way the Pokemon could tell the difference between a simple observer, a trainer wishing to strengthen their team in a battle, or even a gym challenger needing a grass type for their water type gym leader. Still. She wished she could view the wild Pokemon closer than their windows or, on occasion, the porch. The empty nest made her yearn for a Pokemon that much more. Shame the hubby didn’t want one. Oh well… Perhaps she’d spot a trainer with their Pokemon out and about on her walk. Double checking that she had her purse and umbrella (you never knew in this town) Abigail made her way onto the main path. Much to her delight, it only took ten minutes to stumble across a young trainer and his companion Pokemon. “Oh my goodness! Is that a Turtwig? We don’t see those every day! Are you a new trainer?” The boy turned to face the woman, signaling for his Pokemon to stop his tackle practice against the tree. “Oh, yeah!” he smiled, revealing his missing tooth. “I got him from Professor Rowan! I’m taking on the Gym Challenge!” “That’s lovely,” Abigail smiled softly. “Your Turtwig will certainly have an advantage over the water types Crasher Wake uses. “Sure will!” the child beamed. “Say, I could use a little training before I challenge the gym. You wanna battle?!” “Oh, I would,” the woman assured, “but I don’t have any Pokemon. Say, maybe you can train along Route 213, just east of here? There are lots of water Pokemon there I’m sure are itching for a tough battle!” “That’s a good idea! Thanks, lady!” “No problem,” she chuckled. “Say, before you get back to training, does your Turtwig like to be petted?” “Oh, yeah, he does,” he knelt down and patted the Pokemon’s head. “You wanna pet him?” “I’d love to!” Abigail practically cheered in response, kneeling down and holding her hand out to the Turtwig. She’d never interacted with a Turtwig before, but her brother-in-law’s Arcanine was also a Pokemon and he liked to sniff people first. The Turtwig smiled and approached, cocking his head before giving her hand a few sniffs. Satisfied, he examined her further, lightly taking her hand in his mouth and grazing his beak like mouth against it. “Oh, don’t worry!” the boy laughed. “He’s not biting! That’s how he learns about things! Professor Rowan taught me that. Since Turtwig doesn’t have any hands, he uses his mouth to feel things.” “Ohhh, that’s really interesting!” the redhead encouraged, genuinely interested in hearing what the boy had been learning. She did love kids, after all. “What else did he tell you?” “Oh, lotsa stuff! He’s a domsti- domscate- dom-…” “Domesticated?” “Yeah, that! So he understands some people words!” “Ohh. I hope he can understand when I say he’s a handsome one,” Abigail cooed as she withdrew her hand to pet the Pokemon’s cheek. Happy with the attention and petting, the Turtwig let out a contented snore like noise. The Pokemon’s cheeks were smooth and a bit hard to the touch, but had some give when she rubbed them. Upon moving towards the top of his head, she noticed a vast difference in texture, feeling akin to a mix of Magikarp scales and tree leaves. Neat! “You can tell if a Turtwig is healthy by their shells! When they feel good, it feels wet!” “Oh?” Curious, Abigail moved to pat the Pokemon’s shell. Just as he said, damp! It felt like hardened soil, but didn’t come off on her hand. She’d pet the dirt, but no dirty hands! “He must be a healthy boy then!” “Uh-huh! I take good care of Twiggy!” the boy declared proudly. “Twiggy, such a great nickname for a great Pokemon!” Abigail chirped, giving the Turtwig a final few hearty pats. “Well, I should probably get out of your hair and leaves,” she giggled, reaching into her purse. “Before we part ways though, here’s a special lemonade for you. It can restore your Pokemon’s health after a battle! Use it well on your journey and good luck on your Gym Challenge!” “Thanks, lady! Maybe we can battle someday when you have your own Pokemon too!” “Maybe!” Abigail chuckled and waved the two goodbye. Leaving the interaction with a smile, the redhead resumed her walk. She’d have to tell her sisters about it during her visit later. The rest of her walk was relatively uneventful, simply spotting a few Magikarp leaping out of the river and Starly flying overhead. Maybe she’d see a Staraptor leading a flock one of these days. Hopefully not a Gyarados though. She heard they can be quite violent. As she approached her home once more, Abigail let out a sigh. While she was content with her interaction today, it was still a shame to return to an empty house. As expected, the Pokemon scattered upon her arrival, but it was less disappointing after having pet the Turtwig earlier. Walking up the path, the woman spotted something in her potted daisies. She was fairly sure that eight inch tall bud wasn’t there earlier. She certainly hadn’t planted it herself, nor had she placed it in a way to crush the flowers. “Oh, you shouldn’t be there,” Abigail spoke softly as she knelt down near the Pokemon. The grass Pokemon shivered and met the woman’s gaze, seemingly too petrified to move. “Oh, you poor thing. I won’t hurt you. Here,” she dug through her purse and pulled out a Poffin, holding it close to where she suspected the Pokemon’s nostrils to be. “I was planning to give this to a certain Arcanine, but I can get him another one.” The Pokemon looked at her with wide eyes before tentatively taking a bite. “Budew!” the little bud exclaimed, pleased with this new treat she had never tasted before. When the little Budew leaned forward for another bite, Abigail moved it just a little out of range, guiding the Pokemon to exit the pot of daisies. “There we go,” Abigail cooed, setting the poffin on the ground for the Pokemon to eat freely as she tended to her flowers. The Budew nibbled at the poffin contentedly, getting full halfway through. She was quite small and had been eating berries earlier, after all. Turning her attention over towards the seemingly friendly human, she toddled over and observed what she was doing, trying to upright the downed daisies. Oh. She hadn’t meant to harm the human’s flowers. She had simply tried to hide. “Bu,” she called to the human as she placed the tip of her bud to the potted soil, proceeding to glow a soothing green and sending the aura through the soil. In mere seconds, the fallen daisies lifted from the soil, standing once again in their former glory. “Oh!” Abigail gasped. “Thank you, little one!” While the Budew didn’t know what the human was saying, she sounded happy, leading the Pokemon to reply with a pleased trill. “I should have known a grass type like you could help flowers!” she chuckled, reaching out to pet the Pokemon without really thinking. While she initially flinched, the Budew did not flee, instead looking at the woman in confusion. “Sorry,” she retracted her hand. “Is that okay for me to do?” The Budew said nothing, simply looking at the human inquisitively. Taking a chance, Abigail slowly reached her hand out once more, waiting a moment before giving the Pokemon a few more pats. Deciding she liked the sensation, the Budew let out another pleased trill. “That’s a good flower,” the redhead spoke softly and reached for the poffin on the ground, setting it atop the Budew. “It’s probably best you head back to your family now.” She pointed towards the Roselia in the distance, waiting for her baby to return. Grasping the poffin in her little buds, the Budew seemed to understand, offering one last pleased trill before she toddled back towards the forest. “Bye-bye!” she waved, receiving a similar, “Bu-bu!” in response. Aw, how cute!

#Pokemon #fiction #fanfic #writing #Budew #original character #Abigail Davis

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callsigndragon · 1 year

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For once in my life...I can't come up with names for my characters? How do you come up with names?

Okay so this is a tough one. It depends on the day, not gonna lie.

Usually i look up names and their meanings, so i can come with a name that has a strong connection with the character. Sometimes i found a nickname and then i search its origin. And there are times that I end up naming my characters based on other characters from shows, movies or books that i like.

For example, in tasting the ashes, Bradley's babies have middle names that are bird names (Wren, Jay), the OC version of Red in Hold my hand is called Rowan (rowan is a tree with little red berries and also means redhead in irish i think? It's red related either way). Jinx's name is Jessica, but she shortens it to Jesse, that is gender neutral...

It just depends on the mood, tbh. But if you want name suggestions, my dms are open and we can bounce some ideas! ❤️

#jynxmirage #writing #meiga writes

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transmasc-culture-is · 3 years

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transmasc mlm culture is staring at men both because of attraction and gender envy

#transmasc culture is #transmasccultureis #transmasc #trans #mlm #transmasc mlm #trans mlm #rowan-berry-redhead #MOOD

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aro-culture-is · 3 years

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aro-spec culture is wondering why two characters in a book are acting weird and then realizing the writer is trying to force a romance and groaning

#aro culture is #aro #aromantic #actually aro #actually aromantic #ask #mod kee #aro-spec culture #arospec culture #lmao mood #rowan-berry-redhead

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home03 · 3 years

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oh hey i just thought of a pun! Lyv, i LYV your edits. haha

JYFDGHJDHKGX😳😳 I'm LYVing

#asks #rowan-berry-redhead

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

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good vibes! i got the confidence to put my actual name on my nametag at school!

#good vibes #rowan-berry-redhead

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somehow-i-got-an-account · 3 years

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for the neopronoun ask game, you seem like gray/grays and ye/yellows :3

Ooh I like those, thank you!!

#thanks for the ask!!!#ask #rowan-berry-redhead #find later

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draculas-fem-aro-husbando · 4 years

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i love your voice, it's so friendly :)

Thwank you :)))))))))))))))))))

I never get many compliments on my voice:))))))))))))))))))

Thanks @rowan-berry-redhead :))))

:D!!

#rowan-berry-redhead #asks #ask

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tothestarsandbackmoved · 3 years

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i like that anon am also a lesbian and uh holy shit youre beautiful i love your hair

thank u so much!!!

#compliments tag shsjsk #rowan berry redhead

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amogus-sex69 · 3 years

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when you say wrapped in limbs, how many limbs are we talking? 4? 69? 10,000?

Tens at the least. Kinda hard to count em when they wiggle weird away.

#asks #rowan berry redhead

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wingedbeings · 4 years

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goign 2 hav a bagel for the first time

#i amn afraid but umn ppl say theyre good #also starbucks :3 #moss.txt #theres a starbucks by the side of the road while driving home #food tw #hi umn if u want 2 read my bagel review it is in the post above tjis on my blog where i reply 2 rowan-berry-redhead :3

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gwldcnz · 2 years

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* 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻: boho / hippie names ( + meanings & origins ) !

under the cut you'll find a masterlist of +100 safe male names (some of them are good for be surnames or middle names) and they meanings / origins with groovy 60s & 70s vibe inspired by nature, animals and music.

aster: a daisy-like flower (greek origin) bud: symbolic of a budding future (american origin) miller: a silver-leaved perennial flower (irish or scottish origin) quince or quincy: a type of shrub in the rose family; means “apple like fruit” (latin origin) ren: lotus; is a symbol of self-growth and enlightenment (japanese origin) rhodes: where roses grow (greek origin) rosen: roses; a popular jewish first / surname (german origin) alder: an alder tree’s wood is used to make electric guitars (english origin) arlow or arlo: evergreen barberry tree (spanish origin) asher: blessed and happy (hebrew origin) birch: a white slender tree that can bend to the ground without breaking (english origin) calyx or calix: a husk or pod / the funnel-shaped part of a flower (greek / latin origin) cane or kane: a stalk of sugar (english origin) carver: wood carver (english origin) cedar: a tree known for its scented wood (latin origin) forrest: a land of trees and magnificent nature (english / scottish origin) hollis: of the holly tree known for its lovely red berries (english origin) huck: like the huckleberry fruit, the state fruit of idaho (english origin) linden or lyndon: a large deciduous tree with a sturdy trunk (english / german origin) perry: dweller near a pear tree (english origin) reed or reid: a tall grass; also means red-headed (english origin) ripley: strip of clearing in the woods (english origin) rowan: a reddish brown tree; also means “little redhead” (scottish / irish origin) sage: an herb with grayish-green leaves; also means wise (latin origin) silas: man of the forest (latin origin) timber: growing trees (english origin) berg: mountain or cliff (german origin) brent: from a steep hill (english origin) bryce: means speckled (scottish origin) canyon: a deep person with layers (spanish origin) clay: as earthy as it gets; fine-grained earth (english origin) cliff: a steep rock face (english origin) coal or cole: a natural resource; a dark gray or black color (english origin) denver: green valley (english origin) everest: as in the world’s tallest mountain (english origin) hutton: a ridge enclosure (english / scottish origin) jasper: a red, yellow, brown, or green gemstone; also means "bringer of treasure" (persian origin) jet: a coal-like organic gemstone (english origin) knox: a round-topped hill (scottish origin) lander: means territory (german origin) lyle: topographic name for one who lives on an island (scottish / english / french origin) onyx: a black gemstone (greek origin) ridge: a long narrow hilltop; an elevated strip of land (english origin) sawyer: woodcutter; one who saws timber (english origin) stone: means "solid as a rock" (german origin) abner: father of light; creator of the sun and stars (hebrew origin) aden or aiden: means little fire; also means "attractive" (irish / hebrew origin) blaze: a fiercely burning fire (english origin) brenton: fire or flame; also means "town of fire" (english origin) flint: a stone that makes a spark (english origin) sorin or soren: means "sun" (romanian origin) brooks: means "small streams"; one who dwells by a brook (english origin) calder: means "rocky water" (english origin) callan: means "flowing water" (scandinavian / gaelic origin) dylan: son of the sea (welsh origin) hurley: means "sea tide" (gaelic origin) kai: means "sea" (hawaiian origin); ocean, restoration, or recovery (japanese origin) moses: delivered from the river (hebrew origin) nile: means "champion" (greek origin) remy: oarsman; one who drives a boat forward (french / latin origin) rivers or river: flowing water; a large winding stream (latin origin) rivo: means "stream" (italian origin) trent or trenton: gushing or flooding water (english origin) wade: at the river crossing; wading through the water (english origin) zale: power of the sea (greek origin) raiden: thunder and lightning (japanese origin) ari: means eagle (nordic origin) or lion (hebrew origin) buck: means "male deer" (english origin) colt: a young horse less than 4 years old (swedish origin) corbin: means "crow" (latin origin) falcon: a bird symbolizing victory (english origin) finch: a cute and colorful small bird (english origin) hawk or hawke: one of the most intelligent birds (germanic / english origin) lynx: a wild cat with luminescent eyes (greek origin) lyon: means "lion" (french origin) phoenix: a mythical bird symbolizing immortality (greek origin) talon: the claw of a bird of prey (french origin) corwin: heart’s friend; also means "one who lives near a castle" (english origin) darrell: means "beloved" (french origin) felix: happy and fortunate (latin origin) fenmore: means "dear love" (english origin) fritz: peaceful ruler (german origin) jayden or jaden: means "thankful" (hebrew origin) jonah: means "dove", a symbol of peace (hebrew origin) leif: means "loved"; also means descendant (scandinavian origin) levi: joined in harmony (hebrew origin) lev or liev: means "heart" (yiddish origin) milo: peaceful and calm; also means "soldier" (latin / german origin) pax or paxton: peace or peace town (latin origin) ziggy: victorious peace (german origin) arrow: means "shot by cupid" (english origin) art / artie: noble one (latin origin) damon: to subdue; a symbol of friendship (greek origin) dax: means "leader" (french origin) echo: a reverberating sound (greek origin) rex: means "king" (latin origin) rider or ryder: means "horseman" (english origin) sutter: means "shoemaker" (english origin) tanner: leather tanner (english origin) zane: means "god is gracious" (english origin)

#names masterlist #male names #rph #rpc #rph br #rpc br #rpt #* m: rph #* m: masterlist

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destiniesfic · 4 years

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Folktober 01 — for @jurdannet/@jurdannetrevels, and for spooky season: an AU where Jude and Taryn were never taken to Faerie and grew up in blissful ignorance of the fair folk. Mostly.

I count four of them. One, two, three, four. Four of them have taken my sister.

They took some others, too. It’s easy to tell them from the ones they’ve taken. Even as silhouettes, there’s something wrong with them. They move too gracefully, like they’re dancers who can hear music I can’t. And when they’re still, they’re too still. They’re all tall and lean and wear what looks like Renaissance Faire cosplay, and if I wasn’t looking right at them I wouldn’t think they were real. I still don’t think they’re real.

In addition to my sister, my twin, there seem to be three more people. Real people. A college-aged boy playing guitar, staring without seeing. A couple of hikers. The entire macabre party sits or stands or reclines around a massive bonfire, flames licking up a cage of tented branches. We learned about Guy Fawkes Night — Bonfire Night — in AP European History. If that’s what they’re celebrating, they’re too early by a month, and also on the wrong side of the Atlantic.

A shiver goes down my spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chill.

I recognize my sister’s silhouette. Taryn sits back on her heels, her hands on both knees, her back unusually straight. She doesn’t seem hurt. If she were herself, she’d scold me for following her here. After all, she was just sneaking out to meet some boy she bumped into at the mall today. I couldn’t explain my suspicions, the way the hair prickled at the back of my neck. Her smile was a little too dreamy. But I let her go. And I followed her.

Taryn stopped wearing the berry necklaces our parents gave us when we were thirteen or fourteen. Even though I am also too old to believe in superstitions, I never did. Now the string of dried rowan berries loops around my neck, hidden under my black turtleneck. I touch the fabric, feeling it through the cotton. Maybe it will save me tonight.

I draw a breath and step out from the bushes. In my hands, I am carrying the biggest stick I could find. It’s not as thick as a baseball bat — I should have brought a baseball bat — but if I have to hit someone, it’ll hurt. That’s what counts.

“Hey!” I shout.

The guitarist doesn’t stop playing. In fact, none of the humans look at me. But all of them do. The faeries. They are so beautiful they turn the corner into being terrifying. Like otherworldly models, specifically the ones from the nineties, with the cheekbones. Heroin chic, kind of, except they all have this glow that has nothing to do with the firelight. Their ears are pointed. Their fingers are too long. Their smiles are too sharp. My brain hurts.

At least they’re easy to tell apart. There are three boys and one girl. The boys all have different-colored hair: red, blond, black. The girl has long blue hair. She reclines on a cushion near the red-haired boy. One of the hikers combs her hair with a carved seashell, a glazed look on her face. The other hiker offers an apple to the blond boy, perfectly subservient. The last boy, his hair blacker than the dead of night, wears a silver circlet and lounges on two more cushions. He has a cup — a goblet — raised to his mouth. Dark liquid shines at the corners of his lips. I am afraid it’s blood, but I realize it’s probably wine.

I know very little about faeries, because faeries weren’t real until tonight. I take stock of what I do know: don’t accept food or drink from them; don’t trust them; they can’t lie; something about iron. That’s all. It’s not much. I hope it’s enough.

Standing there, brandishing my stick, it doesn’t feel like enough at all.

The black-haired boy squints at the contents of his goblet. “It’s too early for me to have drunk so much already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then he addresses the blonde boy. “Am I the only one seeing double?”

“No,” says the redhead, the one sitting next to Taryn. He looks fox-like in a way that I can’t quite explain. The color of his hair, maybe, or the point of his chin. “I see her, too. Kin?”

“Twins,” says the girl, sounding vaguely intrigued. “How very mortal.”

The blond boy knocks the apple out of the hiker’s hand. “Well? Go and get it,” he says to the hiker, but he is watching me. Apparently the people they’ve already caught are no longer as interesting as I am.

The first boy sighs, but then he grins at me, a cat who’s cornered a mouse. “Welcome, twin sister. Won’t you join us? Come and sup at our fire.”

There’s something under his words, like a hidden current in still waters that might pull me out to sea. But it just washes over me. I ground my stance and raise my stick higher. “Let Taryn go,” I say. “Before I decide to play softball with your heads.”

The boy frowns. Something tells me it’s not because of my threat. The girl looks slightly nervous. “Cardan?”

“Perhaps a charm,” the fox boy suggests, but he is now interested too.

“Mortals don’t know enough to wear charms,” snaps the blond boy. He stalks over to me, and I prepare to swing, even though I think it will just make him mad. “Perhaps if we strip her bare—”

“I will scream,” I threaten. The bark of my stick digs into my palms. I try to sound angry instead of scared. “I will scream and someone will hear and they will call the police.”

“Let them,” says the girl, tossing her shining hair. “More guests.”

The black-haired boy, Cardan, raises his hand. “Peace, Valerian,” he says to the blond boy, who scoffs and sits down cross-legged by the fire. “What kind of hosts are we? Surely we must extend to her some hospitality. What is your name, twin sister?”

Name. Something about faeries and names? Why does that strike a chord? I press my lips together and shake my head.

“This one knows something of our kind,” the fox boy remarks. “Enough to know there is power in names. Don’t be afraid.” His voice is gentle. I almost want to believe him. “Mortal names grant no power. We must call you something.”

I bite my lower lip. “Jude,” I say. It’s just one part of my name. Harmless, I hope. “And yours?”

“Locke,” he says. “My companions are Valerian, Nicasia, daughter of Orlagh, Queen of the Undersea, and Prince Cardan of Elfhame. Can we not convince you to join us? It is an honor for any mortal to dine in such esteemed company.”

“That’s fine.” My mouth is oddly dry. “I just want my sister back. Then I’ll leave you to… whatever this is. And I won’t tell anyone what I saw.”

“But we had such plans for Taryn.” Nicasia reaches up across Locke’s lap to wrap her finger around a lock of Taryn’s hair. “She’s such a soft thing. So fragile.”

My sister doesn’t move, and I shiver. Some kind of magic? Every single nerve in my body is screaming at me to run away before I’m spelled too. But I can’t leave Taryn. I refuse.

I shrug. “You’ll just have to cancel your plans, I guess. It happens.”

“Does it?” asks Cardan. His eyes, blacker than his hair, fix on me. He chuckles. “Perhaps we can make a deal, Jude the mortal. Answer one riddle for us and your sister goes free. How does that sound?”

“Good,” I say before thinking. My brain catches up a second later. “A little too good, actually. What happens if I get it wrong?”

“We keep the pair of you,” Valerian sneers. There are chuckles among the group, and I don’t like it. They seem to know something I don’t.

“The terms are more than fair,” Cardan prompts, smiling at me. “Do you accept?”

I want so badly to wipe that smile off his face, but I am outnumbered. I would lose a brawl. I would never get Taryn away. At least if I play this game with them I stall for time. “Do you swear she’ll go free?”

“I swear it.”

I give him a sharp nod and lower my stick. Faeries can’t lie. “Then I accept.”

He leans back against his cushions. “Tell me, then, what it is that never drinks but grows when fed?”

I wait for the rest.

“That’s all,” he says, with a flutter of his hand. “Well?”

For a moment, my mind goes completely blank and I’m sure I will fail. Then a breeze stirs my hair, and the bonfire crackles. My brow furrows. It seems too easy. “A fire?”

“Well done,” says Cardan. “Locke, send the sister home.”

Nicasia pouts, but Locke leans over and whispers something in my sister’s ear. Taryn stands and turns away from the fire, toward me. I am so relieved to see her whole, with the blush she’d put on before she went out still pinking her cheeks, that I don’t notice Valerian until he’s grabbed me from behind.

“What the fuck!” I yell, trying to kick his shin, to step on his foot. He is much stronger than I thought, and his grip doesn’t break. Taryn, seeming to notice nothing, walks into the trees and out of my sight. “You swore! You said—”

“I said we’d send your sister home,” says Cardan. “And home she goes. I said nothing about letting you go with her.” He raises his goblet to me in a mock-toast. “You must really be more careful when striking bargains.”

#jurdannet #jurdannetrevels #folktober 2020 #jurdan #judecardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #taryn duarte #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #tfota #mine: fic #fic: folktober

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