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Ranger's Song Chapter 3

I'm back from my almost month long haitus! In this chapter we see Callan have his first interaction with the locals and we see Háma and Héra set out on their expedition together. hope y'all enjoy <3

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At long last, I have finished the third chapter of Ranger's Song and now simply am awaiting feed back from the friend who does the beta reading and it shall go up :3

I got smacked in the brain by burnout and writers block and then dragged to the depths by BG3 but I am free now I think :3

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Death and Their Dog

Something that came to me during a late-night walk with my doggo.

It was a humid summer night — well, technically morning — when I met them. My dog had been restless all evening, and finally, at almost one, he started scratching at my bedroom door. Half-asleep, I relented, sliding into my shoes and grabbing his leash and harness from where they sat on my desk. I didn’t intend to walk him far — just through the better-lit parts of my street — but he had his own destination in mind.

Even once we reached the point I’d meant to turn back, he kept pulling forward into the dark beyond the last streetlamp. I don’t know how long we walked, only that the houses grew farther apart until it was just us and the forest on either side of the road, with a handful of aging streetlights casting dull yellow pools across the pavement.

That was when I first saw them.

A dog, and another person. Their hair was a striking electric blue, cut in a wolf style. They wore a faded ‘Joy Division’ tank top and baggy blue-and-black checked flannel pants. Their shoes — battered Vans slip-ons — were covered in worn, hand-painted designs. For all the world, they looked like a twenty-something college kid out on a late-night walk with their dog.

But it was their eyes that gave them away.

Deep emerald green, glowing faintly in the darkness between the lamps, with sclera as black as ink. The dog beside them — a beautiful gray-furred old English sheepdog — seemed normal at first. But as it drew closer, I realized it was slightly translucent.

Its tail swayed as it noticed my dog, trotting up to greet him. The two sniffed at each other, tails wagging. I stood there, face-to-face with a stranger who seemed both human and alien. They smiled, tired but warm, and said,

"Ol’ bloke was a bit antsy. Wanted to wander the street one last time before headin’ off."

Their voice was soft, carrying a distinct Australian accent.

For a while, I could only stare. Finally, in a voice that trembled more than I’d like to admit, I asked,

"Wh–who… what are you?"

The stranger sighed softly, though their smile didn’t fade.

"Name’s Nex… an’ I reckon you already know what I am, mate."

I studied them again, and their dog, before murmuring, "Yeah… I think I do."

We stood in silence until the dogs finished their greeting. Nex gave a soft whistle and beckoned to theirs.

"C’mon, Alistair… let’s let these two get back to their walk, yeah?"

The translucent sheepdog trotted back to Nex, tail still swaying. They gave me one last smile and a half-wave before continuing down the way I’d come. I watched until they vanished, swallowed by the darkness beyond the streetlamp’s reach.

The walk home felt shorter.

I still take that path sometimes, and every time, I think of the night I met death and their dog.

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Ranger's Song update will be delayed this week. Currently moving out of the place i've been staying in DC for internship and getting ready to head home and get ready for Uni again.

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Ranger's Song update!

chapter two is written and published, lemme know what ya think!

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a comment a day keeps the insanity at bay

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The Ranger's Song

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66620653/chapters/171860353

my first ever major writing project to be shared publicly.

Callan MacRae wanted a quiet life. After years of proving himself as a Ranger—fighting old prejudice reawakened by his Pictish blood—he had finally earned a peaceful post in the southern fiefs. Solitude, stillness, and the rhythm of a life spent in service to his king and kingdom. That was enough. Unfortunately, life had other plans. Waking in a foreign land with no sign of Araluen, Callan finds himself thrust into the heart of Rohan—a kingdom of horse-lords, wary glances, and daggers hidden in the dark. With little more than his training and grit to rely on, he means to keep his distance. But when the royal court mistakes him for one of the Dúnedain of the North, he is pulled into their world more deeply than intended. As bonds form and trust begins to grow, Callan finds something unexpected: a sense of belonging, and the quiet pull of affection for a certain warrior poet. But old wounds fester, and when Callan begins to see too much of his own people in the Dunlendings the court so despises, tensions rise and loyalties are tested.

I hope you enjoy <3

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Háma rkgk 🐎

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Meet the Character: Nex

Name: Nex

Pronouns: They/Them

Height: 5'9"

Voice: Australian accent Appearance: Electric blue hair, snake bite piercings, multiple ear piercings, usually wearing a faded hoodie, jeans, and a pair of beat-up boots. Carries a Walkman loaded with early 2000s alt rock. Green eyes with inky black sclera (the sclera are the whites of your eyes)

Occupation: Guiding souls who met a violent end to the other side

Personality: Relaxed, calming, and empathetic. They will do whatever you need them to do to help you calm down after a troubling experience, whether that's just sitting in silence or holding you while you cry. As one of many faces of death, Nex has spent countless ages across hundreds of existences guiding souls to their afterlives. Their personality is well suited to their task, especially given many of the souls they guide met violent ends and did not want to die. Nex will sit with souls for as long as they need and will do what they can to help them come to terms with their fate before opening the path to their new lives for them. They serve as a direct contrast to the typical grim and solemn depictions of death and the reaper, finding it amusing when souls comment on them being different than what they were lead to believe of the reaper or of death.

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this but unironically. my sleep schedule is in shambles but at least im making progress on my projects

“you look tired. did you go to sleep at 3am again?”

yeah well, when else am i supposed to write my 15 unfinished fics, melissa?

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got my first comment on a fic i wrote and I am both excited and terrified. On the one hand, I am happy that people are liking my work enough to want to comment. On the other hand, I am incredibly awkward and not the best communicator and I am terrified i'm gonna come off the wrong way when trying to reply and engage with them

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The Boy from the North

a little short for an OC of mine

The forest pulsed with life as Callan darted through the trees, leaping over fallen logs as he ran with the ease of his many years exploring the trees. His fiery red hair trailed out behind him as he went, pausing only briefly to check the ground for the tracks of the young doe he was following. Spring had come to Norgate a month ago, but only in recent days had the warmth of the season finally driven out the last of winter’s stubborn cold. Now that days were warmer and longer, Callan spent most of his free time tracking young animals through the trees, not to hunt mind, but rather to see where they led. Many times, he had found pretty little clearings or watering holes as a result of his curiosity. In fact, he had discovered his favorite swimming hole not two years ago by doing just this. Now, as he once again knelt to examine a set of hoof prints left by the young deer, he couldn’t help a wide grin spreading across his freckled face as he imagined what hidden wonder of nature he might discover now. Noting the deer’s shift towards the north, and the border with Picta, his grin only widened. He had crossed the border many times before, even having encountered a Scotti war band one time. At first they had confused him for a daughter of one of the warriors, thinking he had followed them all the way from their village given his red hair and strong grasp of their language. When he had explained to them that he was in fact a boy, and not from their village, they were both confused and mildly impressed that an Araluen boy not only approached them without fear but also that he could speak their language. They also noted his heavy pictish accent. They hadn’t harmed Callan, and had allowed him to march with them for a time before sending him away, with one even giving the young boy the dirk from his boot as a parting gift. That same dirk now hung securely at Callan’s side, tucked through his belt. As he continued to follow the tracks, Callan had the sudden sensation that someone was watching him. He paused briefly, turning in a slow circle and scanning the trees. Seeing nothing, he shrugged the feeling off and continued on his way. 

From his hiding place, concealed in the shadows of a mossy pine, Dillan watched the boy with quiet interest. He was like a fox as he weaved through the trees. Light-footed, quick, full of reckless energy, and totally sure of himself. He moved quietly, not unseen, but Dillan could see the potential in the lad. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, slight in build with narrow shoulders and limbs still growing into themselves. His long, flame-red hair trailed behind him in a loose braid, swaying with every silent step. Freckles were scattered like stars across his pale cheeks and nose, and when the boy paused to kneel again, checking another hoofprint, Dillan could see the curve of his face, soft and delicate. Pretty, was the first word that came to mind when trying to describe the boy. Too pretty, Dillan thought grimly, for the kind of world he was moving through. He’d mistaken him for a girl at first, as most would, he imagined. And yet, despite the softness, there was no mistaking the quiet focus in his movements. The boy didn’t fidget or dawdle as most lads his age might. He moved with purpose, reading the trail like a second language. He barely left a trace of his own path. Not quite invisible, not yet, but close. ‘He’s got promise, that one,’ Dillan thought. He watched as the boy paused, standing straight and turning in a slow circle, clearly searching for something or maybe even someone. Dillan smirked to himself. ‘So, ye can feel me watchin’, can ye?’. The boy didn’t spot the ranger, and Dillan watched as he shrugged to himself and continued following the deers trail. Dillan waited for a beat, and then ghosted after the boy, making no sound and sticking to the shifting shadows as he did. After about another 20 minutes, they arrived in a small clearing. The sun had reached the peak of its travel across the sky, and shone warmly down into the clearing. The boy was sprawled on a rock near the center of the clearing, basking in the warmth. Dillan smiled, and slowly stepped out of the shadow of the trees. ‘Aye’ he thought, ‘This one’ll go far’. 

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Here's a little something I wrote when I couldn't sleep. Hope y'all enjoy :3

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writing is so funny because i could write nonstop for 9hrs and then hit a block where im like "how do i transition between this moment and the next?" and then i just dont touch it for 6 months

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truly a tragedy

Devastated that there isn't more content on my boy Háma, son of Helm Hammerhand 😔

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Hello Internet!

Hello everyone! here's a little 'get to know me' post for y'all :3 My name is Kyrja, and I'm a transfemme writer from Asheville NC. I deal with a tad bit of MD (Maladaptive Day dreaming) and so I have decided to channel it into my writing. Here you will find random drafts of projects, character's I dream up, descriptions of places in my little worlds, Vingettes of characters, as well as announcements for full storys and chapter updates for those stories. About me: - I like baking and cooking (especially for other people) - I really like DnD and have been running games for about 5 years at this point and have been playing for 8. - I love going outside, and frequently draw inspiration for short stories from the places I go and the things I see. - I write a lot of queer romance stories (I am a romantic I can't help myself) - my favorite soup is cream of wild rice and chicken from Panera bread, though I want to learn to make it myself. - I'm 20 years old, though soon to be 21. - I love meeting new people and if I run into anyone from here in AVL I will happily say hello :3