#they teach her how the elven world works but without the pretense

[bookwyrminspiration]

What if when Sophie came to the lost cities the black swan had been overthrown, and their leaders arrested. So by the time she arrived, she doesn’t have that same support. I think it’d take the story in a crazy, but fun new direction.

oh that would be very interesting--not only would she have significantly less guidance at the start of the series, but depending on how the Black Swan were handled, the attitude towards Sophie could be quite different; she'd be the product of known convicted criminals, not just the odd human girl.

She was observed when she first arrived, but I imagine that would've been much more intense in this situation. I wonder when she would've arrived, actually. Because Alden didn't find Sophie by his own work, Mr. Forkle led him to her. So without him, when on earth would Sophie have been brought to their world? Would they have discovered that sort of information through a mind break and located her around the same time, or would years pass?

I'm imagining the Mr. Forkle who posed as her neighbor might've escaped being arrest, which would create an interesting dynamic with her having one singular influence and resource.

But that aside, without the rest of the Black Swan able to work masterfully behind the scenes, there'd be no notes, no clues to prompt hidden memories. It would require a lot more work on Sophie's part to figure things out--which, depending on when she was brought to the lost cities and how (agreeing it was the best decision vs council forcing her, for example), she may or may not be capable of.

I'm also curious how that would impact her morals and sense of right; we see her learning from and guided by the Black Swan for most of the series before she branches out, following their methodology and beliefs on the limits. If they were never there, what's stopping her from going a step further much sooner? Especially if she's being more heavily monitored/judged and in order to make any impact she has to push harder--side note: I feel like in that case she might become similar to Tam in her disdain, she didn't do anything but exist and need help and this is what they did?

Would she be allowed to attend Foxfire with a significant association with a serious criminal organization? Even if she hasn't done anything yet, she might. And if she doesn't go to Foxfire (or is too old when brought), her friend group would be entirely different. She might not even have a friend group and it would instead be her against the world, perhaps a few misfits gathered along the way. Fitz might still be around because he found her, but Biana might stay bratty. She wouldn't meet Marella or Jensi, and she wouldn't have been adopted by the Ruewens (because confirmed huge Black Swan association when he thinks they killed Jolie? no way) so no meeting Dex. If she doesn't go to Foxfire, I could see them sending her to Exillium, in which case she might keep Tam and Linh as friends--but with a very different dynamic, since I think Sophie would be incredibly bitter.

Actually now that I'm thinking about this maybe she'd be picked up by the Neverseen. At least temporarily and in the same way that Rayni was--not that she's for their atrocities, but because they extended a hand when no one else did. Which!! Could then be an interesting exploration on how she wasn't a criminal, but via seeing her as one/as dangerous they limited her options and made her into one. She wouldn't have joined the Neverseen if they'd treated her properly, but they didn't, so now she did. Except they don't see it as their fault, as a consequence of their boxing her in, but instead as confirmation of what they always feared.

indeed, Nonsie, there is a lot of potential for a very different but fascinating story here. I've barely scratched the surface of all the implications and everything you could do with it!

#kotlc #kotlc ua #quil's queries #nonsie #(ua as in universe alteration. instead of au) #personally i'm rooting for sophie gets found when the black swan is arrested and they have their minds broken #and so she's brought about the same time. and is then sent to exillium because she's too dangerous to send to foxfire #and its just her in this new world all alone #except for the forkle who was in the human world. the immense secrecy of what he was doing left him the sole surviving core member of #the organization. who's now increasingly bitter #and does what he can to help her and her friends the song twins who have also just been grievously wronged and have #found each other through that #they teach her how the elven world works but without the pretense #and their outrage and outbursts (primarily tam and sophie. as linh's struggling with herself instead of her world atm) #catch the attention of the neverseen #and despite his efforts. the remaining forkle. maybe doesn't have it in him to dissuade them anymore #throw in a vindictive wylie who just lost his second father?? #group of 4 horribly wronged by the system and FURIOUS #yeah. that could be quite interesting

[chrysaint]

FFXIV Shadowbringer Flavor Text from background NPC’s

Main Story Quest: After completing The Feast of Lies and before The Ladder

The Canopy Tatcha-Roi: I can't believe it... Lord Vauthry was a sin eater this whole time...

Lloydden: What that lad said... It made me think, you know? I did get up here through my cooking, but...how much of that was skill, and how much of it luck at having shown up at the right time to be chosen?

Lynden: Of course you people are from the Crystarium. Couldn't just keep your mouths shut and leave us in peace, could you? What you don't understand is that we're all refugees, here. And making myself worse off isn't going to save this doomed world.

Billdia: Oh, goodness me! It's as if I'm sober for the first time in years! Well, “sober” isn't quite the right word─but my mind certainly feels clearer!

Aarner: To tell you the truth, I don't know where to go from here. How to be better than I have been. And that scares me─but I won't run. Not this time.

Dawnden: I heard the young man's speech from out here. To think that the free citizens would cooperate with the sin eaters, of all things... What was it that I've been protecting all of this time?

The Beehive (The dancers came back...)

Minard: Everyone appears to have returned to normal, so I, too, can get back to my standard duties─protecting the other honeybees from obnoxiously drunk patrons, mainly.

Anfrigg: Between you and me─there's nothing in this shaker at the moment. I'm just doing this because the motion calms me. No Vauthry, no meol...it's all a bit much to take in!

Rulimet: Of course we're still operating, darling. Our customers need a distraction now more than ever!

Tista-Bie: Though the world may be falling down around us, there's no reason to deprive ourselves of life's pleasures. Can I tempt you with a little game, my dear?

Sasha-Rae: Lord Vauthry may be gone, but I still have all that I need right here...<giggle>

Atharn: Hmmm, seemed to have blacked out for a while there... But not to worry─a little attention from a charming lass and I'm feeling right as rain again!

The Understory Trialla: You and your friends have my thanks. I don't know what came over me, but I certainly didn't care for it. Not one bit.

Liuina: Everyone's stopped babbling about Vauthry, but now they won't cease raving about the Oracle of Light and her friends. Ugh.

Shai-Satt: I've always done as I was told─fetching supplies for the free citizens, no matter how deep underground or narrow the storage rooms they sent me to were... But I don't have to do that anymore, do I?

Colden: Well, that was a bit of a rude awakening as to our own lack of utility in the face of a real threat. The supplies made it through, though!

The Buttress Eurig: There is a young woman who has been running all about, healing whomsoever is in need and asking nothing in return. It's made me realize how many years it's been since I've witnessed...kindness.

Larasmud: I feel...odd. Did I doze off? I never doze off...

Immigration Officer: I imagine Eulmore's bureaucracy is in for some significant adjustments. Until matters are settled, however, I shall take refuge in the execution of my regular duties.

Doddana: Even without meol, my new wage more than covers the cost of food─and I needn't worry about being expelled from the city if I make a mistake. Why didn't we get rid of Vauthry ages ago?

Registration Officer: This is the end of Eulmore as we know it. What's to become of the city? What's to become of my employment!?

Chue-Zumm: I strove for years to become a citizen, but now that Vauthry's gone, I suppose the distinction doesn't matter so much, does it.

Fathana: I am quite well, thank you. But I worry for the other citizens... (Didn’t notice her earlier, either she was missing like some other NPC’s before or I missed her. Not sure what her previous dialogue is)

Chei-Ladd: The chaos hardly touched us here. Perhaps because of how little meol we eat, and how rarely people choose to spend their time in administrative offices unless they are obligated to...

Joycefort: Your little friend came through and healed those that were ailing. I'll remember that.

---

The Derelicts [New non-intractable NPC’s appeared, according to story, left Eulmore] Zao-Mosch: I have been apprised of the full details by the young woman in your party. Your intervention did free us all, so I suppose I shan't detain you for entering the city under false pretenses. This time. 

Calmet: Interesting to see Vauthry deposed, but if you ask me, he was only a symptom. The citizens, and even those out here knocking at the gates... Man's avarice is the true disease, isn't it?

Gwenfort: With Vauthry gone, there's next to no chance of any of us living the high life up in Eulmore. Most folks have given up on finding ways to show off their skills... I haven't─not entirely. But it helps that I can find clams out here, along with the gold for smithing. A man has to eat, you know?

Thoarich: Now we know why the missing left no corpses, eh? The rats down here, we never questioned what we were eating...

Zia-Bostt: Fish! My kingdom for a reasonably priced fish! Without that, my stew is merely soggy vegetable water!

Thinda: Not much has been cast down from Eulmore since all the commotion with Vauthry. Maybe someone finally knocked some sense into the people up there.

Chora-Lue: I can't believe that I was picking through garbage to find things for Vauthry! There's only one person who gets to keep the trash I find, and that's me.

Zoi-Chorr: I haven't seen hide nor hair of my usual informants since the commotion. I hope they're alright...

Bosta-Loe: Quite a few of those who had gone up into the city have returned here. Apparently, as far as comforts go, plush furniture and fancy desserts can't beat the sense of community we have down here.

Lothie: The world's a mess. The Derelicts are in disarray, and Vauthry's a sin eater... But the two of us are safe and together, and that's something. (Her Girlfriend is a dark Viera with brunette hair/fur~)

Hathbern: You, there! Have you any food? The meol's stopped coming, and I can't dance on an empty stomach...

Fernric: I see you're not babbling about that “Vauthry” fellow. Not sure what's come over everyone else, but it's right creepy, if you ask me.

Qimet: I had the strangest dream... Everything was gilded, and Vauthry had these long, flowing locks... Not sure what that says about me, but I'm trying not to think about it.

Tui-Shirr: Not that I'm particularly missing the taste of meol, but not having it does mean less food to go around overall, and it's hard to build on an empty stomach...

Sristialla: I'm trying to teach the children to cook, though they rarely manage to stand still long enough to learn anything. Perhaps I should make them responsible for preparing their own dinners...

Mumbert: Yes, I do feel rather foolish about eating the meol now. You needn't remind me─he does that quite often enough.

Mannien: That's some appetite for violence they've got, I'll admit. But I'm sure you understand the need to work off stress somehow─and there's plenty of that to go around down here, Vauthry or no.

Bethwren: This place was damaged in all of the commotion, so here I am. Again. As if I didn't have enough inspections to do, what with so many other buildings in the Derelicts on the verge of collapse...

Mathisol: Another day, another repair to the ol' shack. Though I confess that “damage by possessed mob” is not something that I had stocked up on materials for.

Dadine: These are roosters! Some elven boy came by and told me. Can you believe that no one else bothered to say nothin'? Not in the whole time I was sitting here, waitin' for them to lay eggs!

Chelette: Hathenbet has already come up with several means by which we may aid the people in the wake of the upheaval, and I will follow his lead. Naturally. You would be wise to do the same.

Hathenbet: I knew there was somethin' fishy about that meol. But preyin' on the starvin' and desperate like that...that's just dirty.

Moshei-Lea: We're free, sure. But where do we go from here? Where is there to go?

---

Gatetown Iystal: Have I lost my wits, or is Mt. Gulg floating!?

Syselbarth: Folk tell me there was fighting and all sorts of strife. I must've hit my head or something, 'cause I don't remember a thing...

Tio-Reeq: 'Twould seem a disdain for meol allowed me to keep my wits during that whole debacle. Saved by my own discerning palate...

Thyth: ...Ugh, this place has a stink to it, eh? I've not been here long myself, but I can help you get the lay of the land if you want, newcomer. >What do you do here? [the same dialogue as always] >What kind of town is this? What? Gatetown? It's a place to feed on the scraps what fall on your face as you look up and hope and dream. Though as it happens, I hear them scraps weren't just some kind of fancy bread. They say we've been eatin' eaters. Ugh, when I think of how much meol I've wolfed down, it makes me sick to my stomach. Then there's what happened down here, when things was going to pieces up there. All the old guard started muttering nonsense at the same bloody time, like they was caught under some sort of spell. Not sure what to make of that...

[augustawren]

A Candle in the Dark Pt. 1

Characters: Wren and her memories (her memoir)

Universe: Canon memories, Originally written for Broken/Fang AU

~Trigger warnings for CSA and violence~

A Candle in the Dark

(In Elven): For you I cry, I bleed, I fight. For you I die a thousand deaths. I am reborn. Your heart it beats in me, love everlasting. For you I laugh, I breathe, I live.

Part 1

You were forever curious. You were joyful and happy and full of laughter. And you were loved, I promise you, you were loved. (letters from my mother)

This story starts before my memory begins. Many of you know the tale already, or at least some version of it. A halfling child, taken in the dead of night, stolen away from her home. A happy accident for my captors, who never meant to take a prisoner. They happened upon a child, a toddler with a penchant for climbing, who had snuck from her house to chase fireflies and look at the stars. I can only imagine that they jumped at a chance to please their master.

I had a mother. A father. A sister. I spoke with a lisp and played dolls. We helped my mother knead dough, getting sticky and covered in flour, laughing until we cried. I pretended my bed was a pirate ship that I sailed with my sister until we were rocked to sleep by the tide of our imagined ocean. I danced and sang and the only pain I ever knew was from a scraped knee.

Loved completely and fully by my family, the name I knew back then, was Bug.

I know little of my first years in the factory, only that somehow, I became the prize. Put a child to work, even one as young as me, teach her that it's all she's good for, and you'll create the perfect worker; devoid of hopes or dreams. My first memories are fuzzy, wrapped in a shroud of misery and horror. Beatings, whippings, starvation, watching the children around me die like dogs in the street. Blood, blood, so much blood. Being thrown a scrub brush and told to clean it up. And the river. The ever rushing river, it’s roar penetrating our nightmares. It was a promise. A whisper of what was to come, what would happen to us all. We would die gasping as the water consumed us, the relentless wheel tearing our bodies to pieces, our screams silenced as water filled our lungs.

Interspersed with each act of cruelty, was the kindness, the tenderness, from the monster who ran it all. Fang. A name that resonates deep in the bones of every person in Dolbry. Fang. A name used to strike fear into the hearts of children. Fang, who held me on his lap, smoothed back my hair while I cried in terror, murmuring that he loved me. I don't know when I became his sexual plaything, the memories of that remained locked away deep inside until many years later. None of us were clean, but I was the dirtiest of us all, crawling through vents too small even for the other children, to try and hide, hoping that my filth would protect me, that he wouldn’t want me. But it didn’t matter what I looked like, he would just bathe me, caressing my skin, running his fingers down, over the hardened scars and open wounds on my back. Down. Down, down, down, into the water. I’d learned long before not to resist. I would return to the other children, washed and smelling of soaps and candy, but I never felt clean. Their resentment over my special treatment was clear on their faces, and I let it grow, festering, welcoming it. They could never hate me as much as I hated myself.

He carried me around like a doll, petting me, teaching me things no child should know how to do, showing me things no child should have to see.

Back then, the only name I knew, was Rat.

The factory grew as I grew, emerging from its infancy to become a looming shadow across the city. Food and shelter were promised to street children and the children of poor families. A way for them to help their loved ones, to ease their burden. This rumor spread like wildfire, their aching bellies driving children right into Fang’s hands. I have no idea how old I was. Old enough that the memory stuck. The memory of the first time I saw him. A grimey little boy of ten or eleven. Dirty red hair, gangly arms and legs. I try and think now what it was about him. Was it the way his eyes still held hope? Or the smile that he gave me even as he walked through the doors to his doom? If I could go back, to somehow warn him, to save him from the agony that stretched before him, I wonder if I would, or if I would selfishly cling to the only brightness in the dark.

His name was Jamie, and he took to me instantly. It was in his nature to reach out to the broken, the wounded, the helpless. He’d spent his childhood nursing birds with broken wings or rescuing stray cats and dogs from street children. I was the smallest, and isolated from the bonds the other children desperately tried to form with each other. I’ll never know what it was that drew us together, be it dumb luck, chemistry, or divine intervention. Somehow, we became one.

Stripped of his name the same way I had been, through brutal whippings and beatings, he became no one in a sea of no ones. Our names became our identifying features, what we looked like or what our specialty was. Blue. Scab. Freckles. Spanner. Cherry. Boiler. I worked with the widgets, the parts of the machines that required the most care. They held it all together; intricate parts deep inside the belly of the Meckana that required small and dextrous hands, darting between the gnawing jaws of gears and metal. And so I gave him his name, a piece of our bond to remember, even after I was taken by the inevitable death that we knew was coming for us all. Widget.

It must have been solely through Fang’s force of will that I survived the years before Widget. Though the years after he came were still bad, worse in some ways now that Fang had us to use against each other, our friendship was a constant that I could never have made it through without. We clung to each other for dear life. Widge and Rat. Together forever. No matter what. He took beatings for me, and I for him. He stuck up for me, Widget beat against the door when Fang would take me into his office to use for his sick pleasure. Widget showed me the only love and kindness I had ever known, though neither of us would have used the word ‘love’. It was a word only used with Fang, who made us say we loved him over and over until even the mention of love was enough to make us flinch, our stomachs clenching in dread. Through Widget, I learned about the outside world. I learned the names of animals, especially of the birds that would sometimes make it into the factory, only to perish from exhaustion as they tried to find a way out. There was only one way out, and we all knew it. Some days we longed for it. The sweet call of death just out of reach. I learned from Widget about hope and generosity, just from watching him. He tended to other kids, he broke up fights, he picked up the slack when one of us was injured and terrified one of the foremen would notice the decrease in production. I began to put my own skills for climbing and hiding towards a purpose. Stealing food, medicine, anything I could get my hands on to try and improve the lives of the children around me. He never asked me to, never told me to directly, but as I look back, it’s obvious I was changing just from being around him. He was good for me. And I think I was good for him. We were two halves of the same whole. Inseparable. We slept in each other’s arms, carved out a hiding place where we could talk and play grim versions of children’s games. The world was just a little more bearable, as long as we had each other.

And then suddenly, we didn’t.

Years had passed, I was roughly the same age Widget had been when he’d first arrived, while he was just pushing into an even gangly-er pre-teenage phase. This day, more than any other, sticks in my mind like a thorn too deep to remove. Fang had taken me to his office, the overseers beating Widget into near unconsciousness for trying to stop him. Fang was in a foul mood, and dropped all pretense of tenderness. I’ve tried to forget the sounds of my own screams from that night, but they’re as clear to me now as if they had just passed my lips. When he’d finished with me, he threw me to the floor like a discarded rag, blood streaked down my legs. Then he started beating me as he never had before, flying into a rage. By the time he was finished, I was broken, in mind, body, and soul. I remember feeling as if a white hot poker had been thrust inside my very being, burning away any trace of who I had been. But what remained, when stripped of myself, was a vicious animal. When he picked me up to take me into his arms and start the whole thing over again, I did as any trapped animal would do. I fought. I fought for the first time that I could ever remember. I fought to live, to be free. When the knife appeared in his hand, it only spurred me on, thrashing and scratching and tearing at him. I still don’t know if he meant to cut my face or my throat. I remember hitting his arm just as the knife was coming down, though if I managed to change his course, it was merely by chance. Whatever his intention, the cold metal slicing open my face was enough to stop my frenzy. He dropped me, and I can still taste the metallic tang of the blood, can still see the way it flowed from my mouth, leaving pools on the floor in front of me as I tried to crawl away. He grabbed me by the hair, turned white from fear or so the story goes, and dragged me to a closet. The darkness enveloped me then, and as I choked on my own blood, I knew my release would come soon.

What I got instead, was an angel.

I have flashes of memory of the first time I saw the angel, though it’s mostly a haze of pain. It felt as if I’d been torn inside out, like every bone in my body had been broken, and then I’d been cut in half. But the arms that carried me were strong and gentle. I looked up to see a moonlit halo around the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Eyes blue as ice, though they blazed like torches, skin pale and glowing in the night. Long black hair whipped around as the angel ran along rooftops, leaping across gaps, never losing the hold on me. The features on the face, while beautiful, were set in a fierce and determined scowl. It was a look to strike fear into anyone that beheld this resplendent glory.

I was terrified and awed all at the same time, and passed out. I faded in and out of a dreamy semi-consciousness for I don’t know how long, but I would always see the angel’s face, soft and tender, or hear the angel’s song, the unfamiliar language so sweet to my ears. When I truly awoke, however, it was to pain, as long, deft fingers stitched up my shredded face. It was the first time I truly saw the angel. And realized that he was just a man. An elf; tall and regal, certainly. Handsome, most definitely. But an angel he was not. Which meant I was alive.

And so starts the story of Wren.

#dnd stories #dungeons and dragons stories #fang au #broken au #tw csa #birdywrites