#...anyways that is one impossibly beautiful monk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soleilpirate · 1 year ago

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Short story except it's over 8k words

The Day the Music Died

Only dreamers and poets believed in Magic. All the scientists and realists and cynics dismissed those who said it was real. But it turned out to be true after all. Everyone knew stories of folks who had done stupendous, physically impossible things. Mothers heaving cars off of their children, boys carrying their siblings out of battlegrounds, people falling or jumping unharmed from high places. Druids, monks, priests seeing God? Magic. The building of Stonehenge, the Pyramids, the stones of Puma Punku? Magic. Van Gogh who cut off his ear? A desperate attempt to not hear the Magic. Beethoven, who lost his hearing and still composed some of the most beautiful music on Earth? Magic.

No one expected any of those things to ever be more than isolated incidents. Until the 21st of December of the year 2012, when the Mayan calendar ended. Magic surged as it always had during the supposed “holy times” like Solstice and Equinox. But now, it not only matched Science, but surged beyond it, for a period of seven hours and three minutes.

Only three billion, six million, and nine thousand people on Earth heard it. But that was enough.

“There's some people coming! Survivors, by the look of 'em!” Luke called out from the balcony, pitching his voice low. He was on lookout that day.

The old man sitting in the alcove below, Henderson, grunted and looked up from his ledger. “How many?”

“Three. One's in a bad way. Leg's dragging. The others are supporting him on either side.”

Henderson stood up fast, briefly knocking his chair onto its back legs. It thunked loudly back down. “Are them damn fools leaving a blood trail straight to us!” He emphasized incredulously, starting for the stairs to have a look for himself.

Luke squinted. “I see only clean grass and dirt behind them...and just them three. They musta doctored him enough before coming here.”

Henderson just grunted. After a moment he sat back down and resumed going over lists of supplies. “Ash will have to see to them. The injured one at least.”

Luke looked uneasy. After a moment, “You want me to tell her?”

“I will. When they get here.” Henderson paused. “When I've assessed them.”

He was waiting for them some minutes later; door open just far enough, smiling and amiable and aimed like a sword. They paused and looked uncertainly at him.

“Well, you're almost to safety, you gonna slow down now?” He said, easily. “You're going straight for the door after all.” Henderson leaned back and opened it a bit wider.

The woman of the group spoke. “You'll let us in? We've heard about this place. Someone told us...” Her face screwed up and she stopped talking, looked frightened.

“Told you what.” Flatly.

She looked at the other man, who was helping support the injured one. They both looked at the wounded man as well. They all looked scared. “Yeah...we were attacked, out too far from shelter when the sun set. We tried to get back in time, we just moved too slow.” She swallowed hard. “Our friend had been telling us about this place she'd heard about, and a hunter that killed...them. The waning light caught us by surprise” she trailed off and looked down as if ashamed. “Anyway, we tried, like I said. To get back to our place. But Screamers caught us and Heather got killed. Kit was hurt but....we still got inside.”

“And then decided to leave the next morning, aye?” Henderson tried to calculate the distance Kit might have been able to travel.

“It was getting crowded there anyway. Supplies were running low. Only a few people know how to grow food, or how to gather it. And hardly anyone knows about fixing hurt or sick people anymore. It was time to go.” Her eyes welled with tears, she bravely blinked them away.

They'd been driven out because of the young man's injury. And because they'd been caught outside so near to sunset. Probably having sex and therefore distracted. Henderson knew that. More, these young folks knew it. He could see it all over them. Well, he ran this damn place to try to help people didn't he? And he was wasting time gabbing at the door when all could be discussed inside.

“Get in,” he said abruptly, moving aside and shoving the heavy oak door wider. The two stronger adults dragged their burden in, and Kit smothered a moan of pain.

“Go ahead and sit here. Gonna fetch someone to help you, then we can feed ya and discuss your place here.” Subtext: What can you do, what do you offer, how hard will you work for all our safety.

Henderson strode off, heading straight for the smaller room at the rear of the house. “Ash,” he called, before he knocked on the door. He'd learned the lesson to warn her before disturbing her.

“Ash.” Leaning closer, he heard the music. 'Is it simply a game/For a rich young boy to play?/The colors of the world/Are changing day by day/Red, the blood of angry men'

And then the door was flung open and she faced him. Silent. Blue eyes accusing. Every muscle wary for what might come. Henderson made sure his hands were in full view. “Got some new people in today. They need tending to. Two men and a woman. One of the men got a hurt leg.”

Her brow furrowed. Henderson took what comfort he could from her rising and falling chest. His Ash, strong and steady as a rock, as the sacred tree she was named for. 'Had you been there today/You might also have known/How the world may be changed/In just one burst of light!'

“Farha is the healer. Let her see to them. I'm security.” Her answer was one of puzzlement.

“You can both see to them. They need to know how we run things, they've been turned away from a place poorly managed. Do it Ash.” His voice was curt. A command. He turned and walked away, expecting her compliance.

Kit was fading in and out of awareness when two women approached him and his companions. He focused groggily, and the sight of one of the people sharpened him. Rob and Mariah smothered gasps.

The women stared at them, then glanced at each other. The pale one had blond hair in a braid, and a scar. It ran from her left temple in a diagonal frighteningly near her eye, running down her cheek to slightly disfigure the left corner of her mouth. It was clearly long healed but stood out like a rope across her face.

“All right, let's get you to the kitchen so I can take a look at that leg,” the other woman said briskly. She was dark skinned with a strong nose. Her black hair was braided and coiled at the nape of her neck. Her brown eyes were slightly tilted and gorgeous. All three of the new people stared at her for a few moments before moving to follow her command.

As they had done on the way here, Rob and Mariah supported Kit on either side. He had initially been able to bear his own weight but the wounds were taking their toll. He felt hot to the touch as well. His companions were easing him into a seat when the dark skinned woman spoke.

“Either the pants come off, or they get cut off. And judging by the blood on them, best we cut them rather than drag it across your wounds.” She moved about, gathering supplies. “One of you start a fire, would you?” directed at the wounded man's companions. Then, “Ash, can you get that material out of the way? I'll be right back.”

Ash moved closer to the man on the chair. Rob has his hand on Kit's shoulder. Mariah glanced back at them, biting her lip, as she added more wood to the kitchen fireplace. Suddenly Ash took a large dagger from a holster on her leg and knelt before Kit. They barely had time to react before she had the sharp edge to Kit's jeans. He realized what was happening and gasped in shock. By the time he jerked, she'd already sliced the fabric neatly from his thigh to his ankle.

Her eyes flicked to his face, then she peeled the fabric away. “Yeah. These gotta get cleaned and mended. But in the meantime we have a decent supply of clothes. I bring back a fair amount every day.”

Kit's wounds, exposed to air now, began to throb and scream at him. He moaned, sagging in the chair. The other woman bustled back in with some jars and pouches in her hands.

“Thank you!” she said sincerely to Ash, who gave a curt nod. She stood before them, seeming uncertain for the first time.

“These look infected.” Farha said critically, eyeing the ragged slices. She leaned close and sniffed it. Hummed in a thoughtful, inquiring pitch and began picking out dried herbs from the jars.

Abruptly Ash folded her arms over her chest, and started talking. “Everyone has a job here. Obviously, Farha is the healer. We have three..hmm it's two now, farmers that take care of the crops, we have one guy who looks after the water on the property, makes sure it's flowing, and clean. A married couple here are in charge of cleaning and maintenance, they assign duties for others too. We have one cook, and we could use more. If you wanna stay here, you need to list your skills and organize to do that duty. One of the people who took care of mending clothes and stuff like that, died. We could use another.”

They all stayed quiet, a bit stunned by Ash's direct and harsh manner. Kit flinched and hissed between his teeth as Farha began applying a warm cloth to clean the cuts. There were three, two slanted diagonally and raggedly across his hip and thigh. The third was clearly a bite, just above his knee.

Mariah was unable to tear her eyes from Ash. Timidly asked, “What job do YOU do?”

Ash grinned. It looked startling, like something she had learned and been forced to practice, instead of occurring naturally. “I kill the Screamers.”

All three sat in stunned awe. Farha covered the pot of simmering herbs and smiled knowingly. Glanced at the scowling blonde.

“You're the hunter! You...you KILL them!? How!” Rob breathed shallowly, pupils dilated.

“Usually with a sword. Sometimes a knife.”

Silence ruled, save for bubbling of medicine and crackling of fire. Kit's eyes followed the gleam of Ash's hair. No one wore long hair anymore. No one. He'd all but forgotten what long hair even looked like. She saw how he was looking at her and stiffened.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked tersely.

“Maybe later,” Farha smiled gently at her. “You can go now.”

Ash nodded and moved towards the back of the kitchen where an alcove and a door were visible. She could be seen strapping a sword across her back and selecting another knife from a cupboard.

Mariah stood up. “Where are you going!?” in an incredulous voice.

Ash went still for a moment. Farha, adding the herbs and an unguent to a bowl, clicked her tongue. Then Ash turned and gave all three newcomers such a contemptuous, dismissive glance; they reeled. Then out the door she went.

She ran, ran as though she could outrun the Screamers, or perhaps outrun herself. She'd forgotten her goggles in her urgency to leave the unsettling New Boys, especially the injured one who looked at her as though seeing HER; now her eyes streamed tears due to the wind. Ash did not want to be seen that way; as a person and not a weapon. It brought back too many memories.

She could hear THEM now, on that same wind. Stopping, she crouched near a boulder and wiped away the moisture in her eyes. Assessed her weapons, chose the sword. She usually started with the sword until their numbers forced her into the knives of close fighting. Ash gave a grateful nod to the mountains whose smaller outcroppings gave her and the house she guarded some protection.

And there they came, bunched together but not in a group. They hadn't minds enough to actually cooperate with each other. They never would. Mouths stretched wide, distorting their whole faces; eyes bright and wide open and so hopeful of capturing the Magic they could hear as the Music in their heads; cords bulging in their necks from the constant effort. Broken from their inability to actually channel it.

Ash did not pity them at all. She never had.

Her sword flashed in the sunlight.

Later, she rested beside the quiet figures, catching her breath. Sunlight glinted off her hair. Absently she wiped her blades in the cleaner sections of grass while considering the looting she was about to do, of what had once been people. No reason to keep putting it off. Resolutely she rose.

The only real trouble with living near a mountain was that rocks were plentiful but rocks didn't burn. After stripping usable supplies off the remains, she cast about for enough kindling to hold a flame. There was so little, but she did her best, then pulled out the bottle of whiskey from her inner pocket of her jacket, the one saved for medicinal purposes. A bit of a sprinkle for each of them and she was able to light them. Ash made sure to sit upwind until the fires dwindled. Then she shouldered her load of clothing and variables for the people at home, and began the long walk there.

With Farha's excellent healing skills, it was only two days before Kit's infection eased and he could move under his own power. He wobbled a bit and was slow, that would improve with time. Henderson brought them to see Sue Ellen, the woman who organized supplies and also did the mending.

She briskly sat down at the table with the new folk and pulled her inkwell closer to her. “All right then. Let's get started. Tell me what kind of work you did in your old place? And if you'd like to do different work here?”

There was a brief silence. Rob and Mariah glanced at each other. “I think...our place was less organized.” Rob laughed a little. “We just all kinda did whatever needed doing. Which might be different every day.”

His arm moved slightly and Kit realized he and Mariah were holding holds under the table. He felt a brief pang of bitter jealousy followed by grief for Heather. He missed a bit of the conversation for the buzzing in his head and heard “.......things that you find interesting to do otherwise?”

Rob spoke a bit hesitantly at first. “Well I always enjoyed the outdoors. Gathering food and stuff. Maybe I can work in the gardens here?” With more confidence, “I've a bit of a green thumb.”

“Certainly. We can actually use someone for that. Um. Simon is our scientist. He converts the potatoes and corn to usable fuel. He could really use an apprentice, knowledge has to be shared or it's lost. Technology is still available to us, on a limited basis. Would you be ok with that?” Rob glanced at Kit and one corner of his mouth curled up. “Sure! Look at me, going back to school!” He laughed lightly.

Sue Ellen arched a brow and pursed her lips, ignored his inappropriate humor in referencing humanity's past. Her quill scratched precisely on the parchment. “And you Mariah? What would you like?”

“Can I....that lady with the scar...she said one of the people who mends clothes died. I can mend. I'm good at that. Better than I am at anything else!” Mariah laughed. As the woman made a note of her proffered skill, Mariah's hand under the table briefly touched her stomach.

Sue Ellen turned to Kit with a small smile. “Your turn at last. What skills or interests have you, young man?”

“Uh. I've given little thought to it.” He licked his lips. “But I like being outside. When I was young, camping was my favorite. So uh...” Ash went out every day with weapons. Luke and Chris patrolled the house. Outside. Outside where Ash was. “I can help guard the compound?” He hadn't meant that to sound like a question. He'd wanted to sound strong and sure.

“Oh we can always use that. But are you sure? That can be a dangerous job. And you're already injured.” Her implication was.... Are you GOOD at guarding things?

His thoughts flashed to Heather again and his face tightened. “Yeah. I'm sure.” He WOULD do this. He would be strong. And not lose anyone again. The men got up and left to find their new teachers and duties.

Chris showed Kit all the spots where they generally posted lookouts. The high balcony out front. Patrolling the whole grounds three times a day. The silo near the barn. And of course, guarding the others at the stream when they washed household items and drew water. He showed him the weapons cache – marking particularly which were for Ash's use.

“Ever used a bow and arrow before?”

“My dad did. He was a hunter.”

The other man just nodded and looked away. After a few respectful moments for Kit's former life, he went on. “Practice is all you need. You can do that in the cornfield. Come on.”

As they walked Chris mentioned, “Luke loves bow and arrow. It's his favorite and he's really good. You can probably pick it up too, but I'd recommend axes. And..if you want...sword. Ash will ignore you. If you want that weapon, you'll train on your own more or less.” He chuckled.

Kit broke into a light sweat trying to walk as though he was not still torn up. “She's so mean.” He huffed.

“Yeah well. She's a fighter. She needs to be mean for that.” Chris answered curtly. He noticed Kit's pace but didn't slow his own.

The sounds of Simon fussing and bustling about, adjusting beakers and clanking around big tubs of whatever substances he was brewing, drifted out of the open doors of the barn. Whatever was steaming on the wood stove smelled both sweet and rancid. Kit glanced toward the barn twice during practicing.

“Mind what you're doing.” Chris advised him. “You'll have downtime to socialize. We do that occasionally, you know.”

“Yeah. OK.” He focused, ignoring his throbbing leg, and lowered his shoulders. Took deep breaths until the target was all he saw. Then flung the axe.

“Good!” He'd hit it. And not far from the center too. He heard the intercom buzz in the barn, then a voice ask impatiently, “Is that batch of liquor done yet??”

“Just barely. It'll get better with aging. YOU know that.” A crackle indicated the old man had been cut off. Kit picked up the next axe.

Silence reigned but for the thump of axes and Kit's labored breathing. Suddenly Ash brushed rudely past him. He gaped, and the other guard just chuckled. “She's always been a strange one.” Chris remarked.

“Give it to me.” She demanded from just inside the barn. Simon sighed dramatically and shrugged.

Kit stopped, on the pretext of catching his breath and stretching his muscles. He saw her cross her arms while watching Simon insert a long tube into one of the tubs and the other end into a jug. Dark liquid flowed through the tube. “This will be a lot better if you give it time.”

“Well he's out of the last batch. Let's prevent another incident.”

“My dear, it will only get worse. You know that.”

Chris, behind him. “Come on. Throw some more. You've got a knack for it.”

A bit later Ash walked by with two bottles tucked under her arms and two more in her hands. Simon followed her for a few steps. As she stomped back to the house he mourned, “She was so sweet until Irene died.”

Sue Ellen heard the sentry announce Ash passing the border. She leaped up and ran out of the door to greet the returning woman. Mariah was so startled she made a high pitched squeak.

Looking out of the partially opened door, she saw the blonde who frightened and disturbed her so. Catching her breath, she gazed in wonder as Sue Ellen took half the woman's burden and walked beside her to the mudroom. “Oh my...these are all bloody! And...” she faltered.

“Brainy. Yeah. It's what happens. It'll wash out. It'll be fine, Sue Ellen will show you. It's why we save our pee.” Ash said in her usual brusque manner. “Come on.” She walked off in the direction of the creek.

Sue Ellen called for security on the house intercom and Luke replied. They went a bit downstream, nearer the old village, where a cache of rocks protected their supplies. Sometimes the Screamers would shelter in the old houses so Luke stood on sentry as they washed and bleached the clothing. Mariah looked past him to the west for a moment. The sky was beginning to turn orange in that direction.

“Nature is surging” Sue Ellen commented. “The plants are thriving, we burn off weeds every third day just to keep the compound from being covered.”

Mariah nodded, grimacing a bit with effort as she wrung a pair of denim pants, water flowing from her feet back towards the stream. A thundering in the distance caught all their attention. Seconds later, a herd of deer raced past them. It was mostly does, with about five fawns intermingled with them.

Luke got an arrow on his string fast enough to bring down a doe, then another moments later. “Good thing they're brave of us now! We all eat well and dress well because of it!”

The silence after that comment was loud. It had been an accidental, careless remark. Even vague references to how humans used to live was heartbreaking. Every one of them held back on scolding him for that. Luke had only meant well.

He stood by the big sliding door, watching her. He knew he should look somewhere else. It was only bathing. Everyone did it. Nakedness didn't mean what it used to. He vaguely recalled his father saying so, and certainly the sight of bared sodies or clothed bodies at any time was common at any given time.

However, staring at someone – clothed or not – was still taboo.

She was walking along the edge of the hot spring in the grotto. Naked, her hair free flowing, the steam randomly billowing around her. She paced a restless circuit several times. At one point he watched her look directly at him, and drew in a breath. Ash was harsh and rude. Surely she would have something awful to say to him? She sneered just perceptibly, and kept her circling.

Eventually she slipped into the water. She lay on her back, floating, for a few minutes. Kit thought about slipping through the door. Slipping out of his own clothes. Slipping into the water, feeling how hot and bubbly it was. Slipping his hand over her skin. Surely she would react violently to that. But what if she liked it?

Ash sat up finally. Began lathering up the soap next to her and washing. Kit forced himself to move away, to look at something else and think of something other than these insane thoughts.

Henderson walked in and sat at the big table, started shuffling a deck of cards and staring at the wall. Kit froze.

“Poor thing. She got that scar when her mother died.” The old man remarked.

Shocked silence for a moment or two. Then, haltingly, Kit asked. “How? And how long ago?”

“Oh...awhile back. The village still had people living in it. My mother in law Ronan had already Sang the ranch into this bigger, roomier configuration.”

Stupefied by this revelation, the young man blinked. “Your mother in law...Ash's grandma was..a Singer?”

“Yeah she was. Bout knocked me out of my chair when I learned it. She was the only one I knew before or after. It's very rare. There's only 963 that exist. Ash was just a little girl.....and Screamers killed her mother right in front of her. I managed to get her away before they killed her too. Before we fled though, they hurt that pretty little face.” Henderson knocked back his drink and stared Kit down. With those light blue eyes that looked just like Ash's.

Kit withered before that direct gaze. He ducked his head, mumbled an excuse, and hurried away.

There was work in the ranch, and everyone could find what they were suited for. This group fit together pretty well, and each excelled at their task. So much so that sometimes there were moments for leisure. Dice and card games were most common. Once in a great while, there was storytelling, though that often led to nostalgia and grief.

One such evening, when Kit had been a guard long enough for the moon to go from crescent to full, a game of poker was proposed by Mike and Sue Ellen. Luke joined, naturally Simon, Ken, and Chris joined in too. Someone said something ribald, Kit wasn't sure who, but the whole table erupted in coarse laughter.

“What? What's funny?” he wanted to know, his smile lighting up his face. Sue Ellen rolled her eyes and folded. “I'm out. Even if I did swing that way, she's straight.”

“Too bad, that'd be a view worth betting on as well,” Ken muttered barely above a murmur.

“Ooooh!” rejoined most of the men.

“What's the bet? I'm new here remember? What could we be possibly betting ON!” Kit asked with a bit of impatience.

“Me.” Said a quiet voice right behind him. He controlled his jump; he WAS a guard and supposed to be alert to all things after all. But Ash never made a sound when she walked.

She sat down in an armchair near, with most of her back to them. Waved an airy hand. “Carry on men. I'm curious to see who succeeds.”

Johnny pushed off from the doorway he was leaning on and sauntered over, eyes on Ash. “I'll take a bit of that action, it's been awhile.” He drawled. Kit was shocked when she gave him a slow, intent smile.

“What about you are we betting on?” He knew. He felt it in the atmosphere, in the heightened tension in the room.

Rob rolled his eyes a bit and took Mariah's hand. They disappeared to their own room.

“We all have needs, New Boy. And this way is easier than others. This way, everyone's equal and everyone's happy.” Ash began sharpening her knives. And they played with more intensity after that.

His thoughts were a bit wild for the first two rounds. He'd wanted to attract her from the second day he was here. Maybe now he would finally do so. Determinedly, he applied all his knowledge of poker – little – and all his desire - much - into focused body language to bluff the others.

It worked. He caught his breath in anticipation as all the men at the table laid down their cards with various disgruntled exclamations or soured expressions. When he rose from the table, she was already standing.

Afterward, his mind remained focused on her. As surly and solitary she behaved, he kept remembering how soft her skin was. How blue her eyes were. “Everyone's equal and everyone's happy,” But she was his favorite now. Ash was alone much of the time but when she was present he tried to get a seat near her. His patrols and rounds he made sure coincided with her going out and coming in.

And when she did stay in her room, he would walk by and hear the strains of her music. 'On my own/Pretending he's beside me/All alone/I walk with him 'til morning.' Kit thought that the song was confusing, sad and bittersweet. When he crossed her path; either going or coming from her daily hunting trips, she still glanced at him with the guarded hostility she gave everyone else.

“Hey.” He greeted her. “The sunset looks so pretty. We can see it from the-” He was going to say balcony but she cut him off with a withering glare quite like the one she'd had on the day they'd all arrived and Mariah asked her where she was going. Then she swept inside. “Or another day,” he muttered to himself.

During dinner one evening, windows open to let in the sound of water, Mariah felt queasy. Rob was urging her to have another bite. “No. I don't want any more! Stop fussing over me!” Her voice was barely audible. To Ash it was like a shout. At the first negative word she jerked, and swung her head to stare at Mariah and Rob.

Kit, seated next to her as nonchalantly as he could manage, was exulted that he'd been allowed to stay beside her. He noted her sudden shudder and curling in on herself. He assumed it was the surprise of hearing words like that. Negative words were almost unheard of. After the Date, most people spoke with Affirmation. But all Ash can recall is her mother saying “No” and “Don't.” Without finishing her meal, she abruptly got up and left. Since that was how she usually left a room, only Kit cared.

Mariah's baby grew and stretched her belly out. Made her waddle a bit when she walked. Rob burst with joy in her and they tried to work near each other as often as possible. Wherever she walked or sat, all the members of the compound -including Ash - were drawn to her. Pregnant women were a rarity and possessed an incredible magnetism.

Pregnancy and childbirth are a blend of Magic and Science. Life in its beginnings, is the only force on Earth that balances those two so perfectly. For that reason, Screamers were also drawn to a pregnant person.

“Come on Mariah. There's only a short time you have to observe. Hope you're good at memorizing.”

“Why? What's the rush?”

“Groups of more than three....well. THEY know somehow. It attracts them. Especially odd numbers, for some reason. Also.....you're carrying life. They like that.” They walked as swiftly as Mariah's heavier body could manage.

Ken assembled the foldable wooden frame he used to tan the leather, and draped the skins over it. As he worked the scraper he explained the importance of getting all the fat and blood and everything, off the backside of the hide. Indicated the buckets of brain material, that he would soak the skins in to make them pliable and more importantly, weatherproof.

Ash walked back and forth, watching the horizon. Listening to the domestic sounds of Ken and Mariah working the leather. After indulging herself in another long gaze at Mariah, she turned and looked towards the cornfields. There, Simon and Rob were working on the machine that began the process of making the corn into fuel. Luke was guarding them.

Luke, like she had been just now, was looking at Mariah.

Ash shivered suddenly as if with cold. There was someone walking towards them. And they were walking..oddly. “Who is that?” She whispered. She stared a moment longer, then suddenly began running towards the men.

“Look out, look out! Screamer!” She drew a dagger as she ran. Luke jumped in startlement and turned towards the sound of her shouting.

“Behind you!' Just then the Screamer began making their characteristic sound and ran towards the stream. Luke managed to recoil as the Screamer aimed a hard kick at him and raced past him, gibbering, saliva flying.

Another Screamer came, stumbling through the field. Simon scrambled around the machine, trying to put it between them. He snatched up corn and threw it at the monster. Rob was already running towards Mariah. Luke and Ash were both running as fast as possible, but the first Screamer was reaching for Mariah and the second had leaped over the machine and had hands around Simon's throat.

Ash used a dagger right to the nape of the monster's neck, killing it somewhat more quickly. Luke swerved around the corn mill. The Screamer had caught one foot in it, which was being ground along with the corn. The machine was making a hideous noise but even louder was the jagged sounds coming from the former human. Luke struck at it repeatedly and managed to kill it. But the hands never loosened from Simon's throat and it was too late to save him once the Screamer died.

It was a dejected cluster that returned to the ranch. Rob and Mariah had carried the news to Henderson, and he was waiting with a stony face.

He slapped Ash, the loud crack of it seeming to echo. Ash fell to her knees. Her hair flew and covered her face. She remained in the crouch the momentum had left her in.

“They killed Simon! Do you know how that's gonna cripple us?” His voice was tight with fury, his face pinched coldly. “You weren't doing your JOB! You weren't paying ATTENTION! You were looking at that MOTHER!” Henderson sent a murderous glance towards Mariah who blanched at the look and reeled back a step.

“The mothers are important. We need the mothers,” Ash said from under her curtain of hair. “Screamers just find them somehow.” Finally she straightened up, flung her head back. A smear of blood trickled from her nose down her upper lip. She wiped it away slowly, staring at her father.

Henderson inhaled deeply through his nostrils and transformed into another man. The easy going father figure with the calming smile and slow drawl reappeared.

“It's a serious loss. We have to band together more than ever, and hope Rob can fill Simon's place.” A hint of the steel showed again as he finished. His voice raised again briefly in command. “We all have to be vigilant in these times.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Ash watched him leave. Only Kit saw a glimpse of her face. And it made him afraid, but also made him love her even more. She walked away without looking at anyone. Two hours later she left with a pack on her shoulder.

Everything was quiet for three days after that. Everyone walked on tiptoe in fear that any loud noise or sudden movement - or anything really – would break the fragile peace and cause devastation. On the evening of the third day, Ash returned from her hunt filthy and exhausted. She curtly asked for clean clothes and went to the grotto to wash. It was a much colder day than normal so a fire was built to drive away some of the chill and cheer everyone up.

Everything was going fine. People were relaxing, having hot beverages, talking and even smiling a bit more naturally. Suddenly Henderson appeared in their midst. “Quiet!” He held up a hand, staring intently out past the flames.

Everyone hushed. Then, “Screamers are coming. The bonfire is attracting them.”

“What?” “They keep away from fire!” “What did he say?” Various murmurs rose. Luke cried out in alarm.

“Where's Ashla?” Henderson asked tersely.

Everyone was quiet. After a few seconds of everyone milling and glancing around, Kit hesitantly spoke, “I think she's in the grotto still, I can check on her?”

The sound of the Screamers came then. Loud and harsh and broken, yet still strangely sounding like the melody it was intended to be. The very sky rippled, the very flames, the grass and trees and stream and house all seemed for a moment to dance with the Magic. Then without warning it was grotesque and broken and jangling.

Ash appeared suddenly in their midst, hair braided and still wet. “It's the Winter Equinox. It's happening now.” She sounded weary beyond belief. “People used to do rituals on this night. Burn fires, drink to be cheery, all to entice the sun to return. It's Magic. And Magic draws them.” She cursed viciously and sighed. Met Kit's eyes. Then ran dead straight towards the noise of the approaching threat.

“Build the fire up! It'll help her see better!” Henderson cried.

After what Ash had said, it seemed a rash act. But one by one, all the people of the house felt a determination rise in them. To fight back, to help their surly protector to fight for them. They all looked at each other. “If it's a Magical night, let it be for our favor instead of those poor monsters!” Kit called out.

The fire was fed until it roared like vengeance. In the flickering light they could see some of the battle. Henderson stood at the very edge of the circle the light cast, staring out. He gulped from the bottle he held. “Come on Ash. Come on!!”

Luke and Kit grabbed weapons to go help her. By the light of the flames the others watched them. Horrified screams went up, mingling with the discordant Screamers. Few of the ranch's inhabitants had ever seen someone actually killed. And Screamers die hard. The Magic sustains them.

One who appeared to be a girl of only twelve or so, stumbled into the fire when Luke's arrow hit her. Still screaming, she kept running, unmindful of the flames engulfing her now. Straight for the house full of people. The curtains caught first. She fell over a couch and it burst into flames too. Everyone was screaming, running, knocking into each other and the flaming Screamer. When she fell, the carpet burned as well.

Ash had raced after the creature. Kit saw her and followed; the fire and their blades had finished the rest of the raggedy band of former people. Stumbling through the smoke, he pulled his shirt over his mouth and tried to peer through. The residents were fleeing in hysteria. He staggered to the big meeting room, coughing. This room was clearer, and occupied. By Henderson and Ash. As he cleared his lungs, he stared in disbelief as the warrior raised her sword, and slashed the caretaker and protector of the ranch. Henderson fell with only one feeble groan.

Kit yelled in shock. Ash whirled, ran towards him. He scrambled back out of the room, she grabbed the shirt fabric right under his chin. “Shut up! They'll hear you!” She dragged him towards the rear entry door, where he'd once stared longingly out at her. “Move faster!”

Kit tried to pull back but the smoke was now filling this room too. They moved together past the grotto and into the open grassy area beyond. There they halted and collapsed on the grass, both out of breath. In the distance, through the smoke, they observed knots of the folk they knew. Running away from the terror and the flames and the dying sounds of Screamers. Running away. To safety. Maybe.

It was difficult to look at the remnants of the compound. They did so regardless of how they felt about it, really. Humans need to say goodbye. And so they stood side by side, each mourning silently for whatever it was they would miss. In only a few minutes Ash nudged him. “We have to keep moving.”

He looked at her with his breath shuddering in his chest.

“I've got my pack, we can fill my water jugs at the creek. We'll forage on the way.”

“To where?” Hoarsely.

“Wherever.” She was already walking away.

Kit trailed after her, his feet lagging, his heart aching. After only a few steps he began to sob. The sheer emotional weight of trauma made him slow. After a few minutes Ash glanced back at him and stopped. She looked impatient.

“We have to move faster. We need a good place to shelter AND have food and supplies, by sundown!”

“Don't you care about ANYTHING!?” He burst out at her.

“I care about living another day if I can.” She replied shortly.

“You killed your father! Some of our friends are dead! The rest are gone!”

She stopped and raged back at him, “I'm glad my father is dead! The others...I regret. I'd have saved them if I could have.”

“Are you really a monster? You act like nothing happened!”

She looked at him steadily. “I'm not the monster. I fight the monsters. I'm the Ash Tree.”

He spit on the ground, his sorrow and fear too great for him to stand. “Ancient myths that you hide behind! You just walk away!”

She moved so swiftly he yelped in shock; before the cry had fully left his mouth she had a hold of his collar again and had raised him on his toes. “My father was the monster. Not me. I heard him tell you his tale of my mother's death. It's a lie. HE killed my mother!”

Everything went silent. There was only the faint sound of the creek and the birds that chirped, happily unaware of the cruelty of humans. Kit made a croak of shock.

“He's a terrible man. But he wants to be thought well of. Wants to be adored. It's why he ran that ranch. So people would admire him, and think him wonderful for SAVING them.” Loathing dripped from that word. “He beat her when he was drunk. And me. Why do you think we grow so much corn? It's more than for fuel for machines! It's so he can keep drinking!”

She let go of him. “We were out of alcohol. Mama did something to upset him. Who knows what? He started hitting her and it got really bad. I got between them. I was EIGHT! He had a knife in his hand and my mom was bleeding. And he cut me. His little girl. I almost died, my mother DID die, and my grandmama healed me before SHE died of grief!”

Silence, except for nature, reigned again. She turned and started walking again. “Come on!”

Kit was reeling. What she said had changed everything, colored all his memories of the last several months. Shock made him stumble and snivel as he tried to travel at her steady pace. He must have been annoying her with his noises for she stopped again with an impatient grunt.

“You have to control your emotions. Survival is all we have left now.” She gave him a pitying look. “We might well be the last humans alive in this land. Are there other compounds? Are there survivors from your old one? It's sundown for humanity. All we can do is keep moving, until we lie down to die. A hundred years from now? Ten years? Ten breaths? Who of us knows?”

She took hold of his arm, steadied him as he staggered. “We have to keep moving. Find food, find shelter. Survive. It's....” she paused. “The human thing to do.”

They kept going towards the forlorn little houses spread out on the hillside. The sound of the birds and their breathing was the only sound. When they got closer the sky was beginning to turn purple. As they got closer Kit heard rustling and then, just as his eyes adjusted to see a shape slinking along the wall of one house, a low growl.

Ash pulled to the right instantly. Her gait became much slower and she made soothing, calm down noises. The shape came nearer, and slowed. “It's a wolf,” she whispered. “Can you hear her cubs?”

Straining his ears, he did. Just barely. They moved to the outside line of houses and chose one. He was exhausted, his leg screaming, and he slumped trembling into a chair the moment they were inside. In a daze he watched Ash lock the door and check all the windows. Most of them were blocked already but she moved chairs and stacked books until the others were also barricaded.

“Let's get some sleep. We have to be up in time to forage and then move before next sunset.”

“Do you really think there's anyone to find?”

“There's always your place. The one that expelled you. There might be people there.”

“Maybe.”

“There'll be strong walls at least.”

They fell asleep on a pile of blankets and pillows between the couch and the coffee table. Ash jerked awake when the sun was still fairly high, almost noon. She shook Kit awake. It took awhile.

Groggily he questioned, “Got anything to eat?”

“It's digging in the ground for us, I'm afraid.” Humor tinged her voice.

“Can we hunt or something?” He raised himself up on one elbow.

Ash made a face. It was somewhat like a smile, but her scar caught at it. She coughed and said dryly, “With a sword and daggers? I only grabbed blades before we ran. Luke took a bow.” Wistfulness crept into her voice. “I saw him with it, saw him as he ran.”

Kit thought hard for a moment. Yawned. Took a drink of water. “We can set traps? That's what we did..” he faltered. “Before.”

“Traps take time. We don't have it. Up. We dig and forage today. On the move.”

They found a raspberry patch and feasted. Kit found some strips of jerky in the leg pocket of his cargos. After a bit of traveling, Ash suddenly ran and began picking up something from the ground under a huge tree. She said it was black walnut, and they sat awhile cracking the nuts like happy squirrels. But suddenly familiar shrieks filled the air.

“What the FUCK! Out in the middle of the afternoon?” They chose to run. They walnut tree had been planted by a farmer. Soon they saw the outline of his stone fence. However, the farmhouse was rubble. They took a stand.

Backed up to a stone wall though he was, the numbers were overwhelming. And he was exhausted, sweat dripping, breath rasping. She saw it. Drawing a deep breath, she shouted. In rage, in fear, in loss and at the unfairness of it all. Magic in the world! And all it could produce was horror! And then she sang. Not like the true Singers. Just an off melody “la la la la la” and a sudden lunge to the side.

The Screamers gasped, almost in complete unison. Ash could not hear the Music, had no hope of succeeding. But the pure hysteria her cracked voice caused in all the poor unfortunates was incredible.

He ran as best he was able. His leg hurt, and his heart hurt. His breath rasped in his lungs as he wept. A couple of them were still chasing him. Kit made for a cypress nearby. Jumping up, he managed to swing himself upwards enough to reach the next branch, forcing himself higher. The Screamers on the ground couldn't quite figure out where he went and attacked each other. Gradually the screams quieted. Kit straddled a branch that seemed almost too thin to support him, and hugged the trunk. He sobbed and sobbed until his breath ran out and he had to gulp. Slowly he calmed down.

The branch was smashing his crotch and snot was running down his face. He kept thinking of her last moments. It had all happened so fast. One moment she was beside him and then she was just gone. They could have kissed. She could have said goodbye. Maybe he could find her! But he knew it was too late for that. Scenarios ran through his mind over and over but they changed nothing. Over and over again, he was slammed by the knowledge that in a breath, his life had changed forever.

Slowly he slid down the tree. Found his pack halfway down, with water and the food they had foraged still inside. He winced as he shouldered it, he'd scraped himself several times climbing. Resolute, he studied the lowering sun and figured out his direction. Thankfully it was mostly downhill with a bit of level ground here and there. Off he set, sure of his destination.

The sight of the stone walls was such a relief he nearly fell to his knees. Ruthlessly he drove himself forward. Was anyone alive there? The sun was so low it was turning red already. He could hear distant shrieks. Running up to the door, he pounded frantically on it. “Hey! Hey I'm back let me in! Let me in!”

They had to let in such a noisemaker. The door opened and one of his old friends gawped at him. Kit pushed his way in. “Hi everyone. Listen to me now. I have a way to improve things.”

#science fantasy #short story #sort of long short story #unpublished fiction #copyrighted work

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alabastshe · 22 days ago

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eléonore de laroque

NAME. Eléonore de Laroque AGE. appears 27 / actual 416 BIRTHDAY. November 2nd ZODIAC SIGN. Scorpio BIRTHPLACE. Labourd, France PLACE OF LIVING. New Orleans, Louisiana ETHNICITY. French-Basque ALIGNMENT. chaotic evil (barely functioning under chaotic neutral thanks to one particular Celtic witch) OCCUPATION. former witch, now vampire, professional problem GENDER. female PRONOUNS. she/her SEXUALITY. lesbian FAMILY. long dead, wouldn’t have liked her anyway RELATIONSHIP. single, emotionally unavailable, deeply bonded to her platonic soulmate Sadhbh Ní Dhorchaidhe

PHYSICAL. Eléonore stands at 170 cm (5'7"), with a sinuous, feline kind of grace that never quite feels human. Her dark red black falls in waves to her waist, often tangled from nights she doesn’t bother to brush it. Her eyes are cold, piercing grey like storm clouds that never pass. Her skin is pale with a ghost-like translucence, a reminder of the centuries spent in shadow. Her presence is unsettling yet intoxicating, like the smell of jasmine on a grave. She carries the scent of dried rose petals, old smoke, and forgotten wine cellars decay turned into perfume.

PERSONALITY. Eléonore is chaos in a velvet corset. Her wit is as sharp as her bite, her cynicism bottomless. She feels too much and copes by pretending she doesn’t. Her cruelty is elegant, her bitterness legendary, but underneath all that venom lies something far more dangerous grief. After centuries of betrayal, loss, and forced transformation, Eléonore no longer believes in redemption or love. But despite her best efforts, she somehow stumbled into something resembling friendship with Sadhbh Ní Dhorchaidhe a relationship that confuses, irritates, and ultimately anchors her. They bicker like old gods, but Sadhbh is the only one who can talk Eléonore down from burning the world. Again.

Eléonore doesn’t care about your rules, your morals, or your fragile feelings. But if you touch Sadhbh, or her small circle of tolerated souls, she’ll gut you before you can blink.

BACKGROUND. Born in the Basque region of France, Eléonore was the daughter of a cunning herbalist and a disgraced nobleman. She was always sharp, always strange, always too powerful for a world that wanted women silent and soft. She thrived in shadows, practicing witchcraft with a coven hidden deep in the woods. But her beauty and defiance drew the wrong kind of attention. A monk became obsessed with her, a creature in holy robes who whispered damnation between breaths of lust. When she laughed in his face and told him to rot, he did what bitter men do he accused her. In the year 1609, during the Labourd witch trials, he had her hunted like an animal. She fled, hiding with her sisters. But he came for her again.

He wasn’t mortal anymore. He had made himself into something worse a vampire. And in a twisted act of obsession, he turned her. “If I cannot have you as a man,” he said, “I will bind you in eternity.” The witches killed him. Too late to save her. Eléonore was changed, cursed to live forever in a body she never chose. She went wild for years. Tore across Europe like a hurricane. Burned, drank, broke, destroyed. Until she met Sadhbh. A Celtic witch older than the stars, impossible to intimidate. Somehow, they stuck. One wild, chaotic vampire, and one wise, reckless witch who sees every bad decision before it happens and drags her friend back by the collar anyway.

They call it hatred. It looks suspiciously like love.

ABILITIES & SKILLS.

Vampirism: Eléonore is strong, fast, and terrifyingly lethal. She walks without sound and kills without hesitation.

Dark Magic (formerly): Though she no longer practices witchcraft, fragments of her old power still linger—hexes, curses, things better left forgotten.

Seduction & Manipulation: Eléonore knows how to charm, deceive, and destroy. She is both siren and executioner.

Enhanced Senses: Night vision, scent tracking, and heightened hearing make her a deadly predator.

Immortality: She does not age, and though she has tried to die before, nothing has worked yet.

Emotional Weaponry: Her sarcasm cuts deeper than fangs. She will talk you into your grave if she’s in the mood.

Eléonore de Laroque is everything they warned you about and nothing you were prepared for. Beautiful, bitter, and bound in shadow, she walks the fine line between chaos and control if only because someone keeps yanking her back from the edge.

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himbirch · 1 year ago

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(first off, i havent watched hazbin so im ignoring the alastor part of this)

A few things!

Prospero is confirmed aromantic, not asexual. Kind of embarrassing to be complaining about erasure in the same breath as ignoring his canonically unconfirmed sexuality in favor of your dogma.

Please stop pretending that the entire aroace community is a united front and on your side, because a lot of us either don't give a shit or enjoy exploring the nuances of aromantic love and relationships through media (i really don't see why that's a bad thing).

"what about those who don't?" what about those who do? don't you see that by complaining that about erasure of aroaces that feel no attraction you're kind of erasing those of us that do feel attraction? there are so many ways to be on the aroace spectrum, and they ALL deserve to be represented. furthermore, one can be in a relationship while not being attracted to the other party.

I agree that completely ignoring aromantic/asexual identity completely is erasure, but you can ship aromantic/asexual characters without erasing their identity, and attempting to ban all shipping of aro/ace characters through some form of attempted moral superiority is not only impossible (it's the internet) but unproductive for the community at large.

also, and this is less important in my opinion, but there is official rednflynn art of prospero kissing a man. he's not a celibate monk whose character hinges on never touching or enjoying the company of another human being, and its not a crime to play with his relationships to other characters. (especially because it's all hypothetical. its not like prospero is making out with montresor in the comic guys, chill please)

side note, prospero HAS shown interest in platonic relationships. not super much, because they're in a fight to the death arena sort of thing, but he considers allying with lenore and he and annabel literally have tea parties lol (also he's the only one to hug her in the entire comic besides lenore and ira (and ada i guess if you count her, but annabel was uncomfortable with that))

anyways, while i completely understand not being on board with certain ships and seeing certain added traits as irritating mischaracterizations (trust me, i get upset about a lot of random stuff. i know its difficult to scroll past), just because you personally don't like it doesn't mean that people who ship prospero are immoral and deplorable. (and even if they were, we all know damn well people would still do it) please, for your own good, block prospero ship tags and scroll past the stuff you do see. let people enjoy his character their way, and you can enjoy it yours. love is love, we're all in this fandom and community together and even though we don't all agree, that's part of the beauty of it.

and before aaaanyone says i have no right to speak on this, i am on the aroace spectrum and am fully within my rights to have an opinion on this. you don't have to agree with me, but be respectful about it pretty please <3

I'm so fucking sick of you shipping aroace characters when they've clearly shown ZERO interest in romantic/sexual relationships LET ALONE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS. "Well they're fictional" you wouldn't ship a lesbian character with a straight man would you? "Aces/Aros can still feel love" true, but what about those who don't? Do you just completely ignore them? Alastor has shown so many times that he wants nothing to do with these kind of stuff yet you still keep shipping him with Charlie, Lucifer etc. Prospero too. We're so happy to get the little representation we can get and yet you keep erasing us.

#aromantic #asexual #aro #aroace #ace #prospero nevermore #nevermore webtoon #nevermore webcomic #nevermore

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postmodernbeing · 3 years ago

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Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: Marley Warriors (College AU)

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. Finally, my last part of the Outfits/Moodboard HCs is finished. This time I made them for Zeke, Pieck and Porco (you can find Reiner, Annie and Bertie here) Anyways, make sure to check my Masterlist for previous HCs. Hope you enjoy!

IMPORTANT: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, most of my content is Minor Friendly but this one does not, sorry guys. See you next time // I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Do not repost this. // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Zeke Yeager

Now, I have a confession. Since I read @whats-her-quirk 's Sometimes Will Come Around and @titan-fodder 's Deflowered, I couldn’t shake the thought that Zeke’s a grunge mess. I bet he’s an early 90s baby and grew up with Kurt Cobain as his role model. It just makes sense to me, so all credit goes to them.

With that being said, if you ever believed Zeke knew how to match colors or even iron a shirt, I'm sorry to inform you: that's far from truth. Don't @ me. Monke boy don't know how to dress for shit.

He got stuck in the MTV grunge scene, the dirty cardigans, t-shirts from bands, jeans and converse so ripped and wasted, and of course, flannel shirts. Owns a single blazer and dress pants for when it’s needed (since his college grad actually). More than that, it’s just impossible to ask him to wear formal.

He also keeps an old plastic box to put all his bracelets and his piercings. No worries, he cleans them constantly although rarely wears them.

Pieck Finger

Don’t get me wrong on this one, I do beg for your forgiveness, but I really need to get it off from my chest: Pieck smokes weed. She just does. When cooking, while reading, during stressing mornings or the most pleasing nights. She just keeps close a blunt in case it’s needed.

She’s the queen of quartz, energy stones, esoterism and alternative medicine, even though no one can tell if she learned about those things ironically or as a completely serious matter. Oh, and tarot. No one complains about this one though, cause it’s actually a fun thing to do at parties. Also, carries everywhere her tote bag with the most interesting stuff, from unique books to antique artifacts like her stones, small kaleidoscopes, or glasses for three eyes.

Pieck hates ironing her clothes but loves fabrics that need to be ironed like cotton and linen since they’re so fresh and easy to paint with natural pigments. And when she’s feeling creative, she dares to embroider flowers and patterns over dresses and shirts or the bottom of her skirts.

Speaking of embroidery, a few of her shoes and jackets, are too, beautiful artworks that enhance her monochromatic outfits where collars and bracelets hang from her skin and cloth. It’s just such a pleasure observe her enriched style and simplicity. Love her dearly, want her as a friend and wardrobe consultant.

Porco Galliard

Okay but hear me out, Porco believes religiously in combat boots and bomber jacket's supremacy. Can't get enough of them. Actually, his outfits generally consist in joggers, boots, some simple t-shirt and a jacket. Neatness is the word Porco would use to define his style as he rejects complicated compositions for something as simple as the necessity to cover one’s body.

Simple man with simple pleasures, his clothing looks all the same and rarely buys anything that's not military green, pitch black, white/grey, or brownish reds. For warmer days he just wears cotton shorts and a tank top -only if formality is not required- as he despises elegant garments, he would feel all uncomfortable and limited in movement.

Which brings us to the final point: Porco keeps a hygiene routine quite complex and exercises regularly, but unlike Reiner, his gym clothes don’t mean a huge part of his wardrobe (or personality) lol.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk headcanons #aot headcanons #headcanons #college au #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #pieck finger #pieck snk #porco galliard #porco aot #marley warriors #snk #aot #aesthetic headcanon #outfits headcanon #part 4 #outfits headcanons part 4

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golden-pickaxe · 3 years ago

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Wrong Side (Part 1)

Fandom: Cursed

Paring: Weeping Monk x F!Reader

Type: post season 1 (aka I do what I want, this show has been cancelled)

Wordcount: 10.177

Warnings: Violence, eventual Smut (18+), canon typical themes, christians are not talked nicely about

A/N: I actually wanted to post this as just one part, but as it is getting close to 20k words, I thought I would split it up. The second part is almost done, so yea. A few things are, that this story contains OCs, it contains made up lore because the source did not give much, and I based most of the lore on Celtic stuff, thought I am not an expert and it is also not super detailed. Idk where this came from tbh. Mostly because as someone who does longsword and types of short sword fencing (HEMA) in my free-time, every time I see or read bad fighting descriptions I want to cry. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this! Not a fandom I ever thought I would write about, but apparently my brain was searching for a new fixation in these trying times! It is basically a sweet romance with sword fighting, angst and hope, with a happy ending :) because we need happy endings!

Title of the story is from Wrong Side by Abney Park, a quote of which you will also find in this story!

Edit: This story is finished! [Part 2] , [Part 3]

Summary: You and your friends are the last of the Fire folk, making your way south to flee the red paladins that have destroyed your village. One night, a man and a boy stumble upon your camp, who had once stood on the wrong side of history.

Even though the days were still quite warm, the nights had already started to grow bitter cold. The leaves of the forest had started to turn orange, yellow, red and brown, the beautiful turn of the seasons, as fall was slowly creeping over England.

You usually loved the fall, always excited for the many colours and harvest celebrations, the rituals that usually marked this time of year. The fall equinox was just a few days away now, if you read the heavens correctly, but where you usually would be busy with helping bring in the harvest and preparing the feasts and bonfires to end the season, you were now sitting on the cold ground, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, staring into a small, smouldering campfire. It was dark, the sky covered in clouds, to that not even moonlight could reach you, as you kept the first night watch over the camp, over the few remaining friends you still had in this world. They were huddled up in their own cloaks and blankets, finding a bit of restless sleep before you would travel on again.

You chewed on your lower lip, staring into the flames, your fingers idly moving, causing sparks of the fire in front of you to for figures and dancing shapes in the night.

It had been a long and horrible summer. The red paladins had ravaged the land, storming over the Pendragon kingdom from the north, where all this terror had started so long ago. Their kind had killed the fey for over two decades now, but this year was the first time that they bolstered such numbers, raged a war with so much strategy and determination. And surly with more funds from their overlords in Rome. Where years ago a fey village here and there was burned, with even some people surviving to tell the tale, now one after the other fell, so quickly that it was almost impossible to know where they would go next. Even larger strongholds, that had until now withstood the terror the Christians brought with them, had fallen like a house of cards.

You pulled your blanket tighter around your body. You felt so trapped, as if the paladins were closing in on you and your friends with every passing minute. Part of you was just about to give up, to accept that this was the end of your people, as the places where you could hide dwindled every day. You and your friends had initially been on your way to Nemos, after you had heard other fey you had met talk about it, but when you had arrived, all you had found were burned remains of an abandoned camp.

So now, you travelled on a bit aimlessly, planning to go south, towards Cornwall, a place where there were still enough woods, still enough unpopulated land, so that it could maybe be a new starting point. As far as you knew, the paladins had not made their way this far to the south yet, and if you remembered the stories of your mother correctly, it was still mostly inhabited by fey, with many clans of Piskies, Browneys and Spriggans scattered over the forests, fields and cliffsides.

Old stories were of course not much to go by, but it was at least something to give you and your four friends some hope.

A sigh left your lips, your breathing forming a cloud of mist in the cool air. Cold, howling wind was rushing through the trees, pulling at your blanket and biting through your clothes, a constant wall of noise around you, making it even more vital for you to pay attention to your surroundings. But it was hard to make anything out besides the sound of the branches in the wind or see anything beyond the small light of the fire.

You were quite tempted to make the fire burn a bit brighter, not only to see more, but also to feel more of its warmth on your cold skin. But you knew, that just having that small fire in the first place, was risky enough, so you kept it low, only shimmied a bit closer to the flames, stretching out your hands to warm your clam fingers a bit, which were clad in fingerless gloves.

A sudden noise, that managed to reach your ears even through the howling wind and rustling branches, made your head turn to the right, your hands automatically reaching for the longsword lying next to you. It had distinctively sounded like the crack of a branch. A branch that was stepped on.

You got up in a swift move, your still fingers wrapped around the hilt of your sword, the metal reflecting the orange light of the low fire.

“Born in the dawn..” a small voice called out from the shadows beyond the light of the fire, the voice of a small boy. Your heart was beating in your throat, the confirmation that there indeed were people in the woods around you. That a child had spoken was no reason for you to let down your guard, who knew what new tactics the red paladins had thought up now. Using a child as bait was not beyond them.

“To pass in the twilight.” You answered nevertheless, your foot kicking on of your friends that was lying closest to you in the ribs, Calder instantly waking up. “Who are you?” you then added, shooting Calder a quick, intense look, as soon as the man had opened his eyes.

“I’m Squirrel!” the voice said, and stepping out of the shadows of the trees and into the light of the fire was indeed a small boy, bruises on his face.

“Are you alone out here?” you asked, while Calder had gotten up as well, gripping his own sword and waking up the rest of you.

The boy looked uncertain for a moment, shooting a glance back into the shadows.

“No..” he finally said.

“Who is with you?” his behaviour alarmed you immensely, as apparently your gut feeling had been right. He was bait. You immediately raised your sword, your body tensing up, ready for a fight.

“He.. he is one of us!” the boy quickly said, noticing your demeanour. “Please, don’t hurt him! He saved me!”

You frowned at the words of the boy, confused why, if the person was fey like all of you, he hid in the shadows instead of approaching together with the boy. You friends seemed just as confused as you were, as none of them lowered their weapons.

“If you are fey, you have nothing to fear here. Step out, or we will be forced to attack!” Calder spoke up, his reddish eyes trying to spot any movement in the dark forests. You felt increasingly uncomfortable.

Even through the constant howling of the wind, steps now became audible to you, the sounds of a horse, and a person walking closer to the camp. Then, with raised hands, though one hand was holding onto the reigns of a black horse, was a hooded man. Even though you had never seen him before, you had heard enough horror stories to immediately recognise who had just stepped into your camp. It was the one who cried, the weeping monk.

Panic ran through you, blood rushing through your ears. You took a step back, though the grip around your sword grew even tighter.

“I knew this was a trap!” you brought out between gritted teeth, and your friends around you looks as if they were ready to attack. “The boy is bait!”

“No, please wait!” the child cried out, jumping in front of the monk, raising a small hunting knife defensively.

You stopped yourself, as you had already taken a few steps towards them, shooting one short look at your companions. You had absolutely no idea what was going on, why this fey boy was defending your most dangerous enemy like that, and why.. why he had called him ‘one of us’. You mustered the monk more closely now, and noticed that he had no sword around his hip, was unarmed. His face was covered in dried blood, almost covering the weird tears on his face, that made the man so recognisable. Seeing those tears sent a shiver down your spine, a shiver you could not quite place.

“Explain.” You said, earning a confused look from Calder.

“He-.. he saved me from the paladin torturer! And he killed those guys in the golden masks! We just escaped the red paladin camp yesterday, and have been riding ever since!” the boy stumbled over his words, still protectively standing in front of the tall monk behind him.

“And what did you mean, when you said he was ‘one of us’? As far as I know, none of us here is a murdering Christian!” your words were biting, accompanied by unfiltered hatred. You had seen too many of your brothers and sisters killed to have any kindness in your heart for this bastard. The monk clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to the ground. He almost looked ashamed, if you didn’t know better.

“He is fey! I saw it!” the boy exclaimed, looking around himself. You could almost see the gears running in his mind. “Look!” he then suddenly said, bending down and picking up a leaf from the ground. Without hesitating, he pressed it against one of the raised hands on the monk, who immediately flinched back, as if the boy had not pressed a leaf, but hot coal against his skin.

But it had been too late, you all had seen it. You all had witnessed his skin turning green, mimicking the colour and texture of the leaf it had touched.

“How.. how could you?” the small voice from one of your friends, Leofyn, broke the tense silence, laced with pain and disbelief. “Your own people..”

Your mind was racing as you stared in the man’s face, suddenly realising what the shiver down your spine had meant.

“Ash folk.” Another one of your friends, Edwyn spoke up, wording what you had just realised. “The face markings.. weeping monk, what a joke.” He shook his head in disgust.

You closed your eyes for a moment, frustration flooding your mind. You lowered your weapon before opening your eyes again.

“If he is Ash folk, we can’t hurt him.” You spoke up. Calder gritted his teeth, before spitting on the floor, although he knew better than to argue. He knew it as well as you all did.

Squirrel looked shocked and confused, his eyes darting from one of you to the next, before relief overcame his features when he noticed all you reluctantly lowering your weapons.

“Wh- why?” he asked carefully. The monk behind him looked just as confused.

“We are Fire folk. Our clans.. back, before the Ash folk were murdered, our clans had a pact, a friendship dating back for centuries. We can’t hurt them, no matter how much we would like to.” Edwyn explained, wiping a hand over his face. “After the massacre of the Ash folk up in Scotland, our clan moved south, until the paladins reached us here too. We’ve not been this far south in a few hundred years.”

“I am certain that this monster won’t abide by our ancient treaty! I bet my life, he has already killed more of our clan than he can count!” the last one of your friends, Morrigan, raised her axe again. “He may be born fey, but he is fey no longer!”

“Do you really want to anger the gods, Morrigan!” Leofyn sounded scared.

“What do you want?” you interrupted, as Morrigan opened her mouth to probably say something blasphemous. Your eyes studied the child and the monk, who still had his hands raised defensively.

“We.. we..” the boy started, but with his eyes darting over to Morrigan’s threatening, tall figure, he seemed to stressed and confused to articulate himself.

“We were trying to find refuge, to flee the paladins.” The monk spoke up for the first time, and all of you instantly raised your weapons again. His voice was smooth and low, reminding you of smoke and ash in your lunges. “For the boy.” The monk then added.

“And you? What do you want?” Calder asked, his voice biting.

“Nothing. I just want to see the boy safe.” The monk said, and you could sense no deceit in his words or expression.

Morrigan laughed.

“Yes, sure. And I am the queen of England.” She shook her head, her short black hair slightly falling into her face. “So, you wouldn’t mind if we killed you right here, right now?”

“Morrigan!” Leofyn exclaimed, but to the surprise of everyone, the monk just nodded.

“It would be what I deserve. I know that.”

His words surprised you, you had not expected him to say that. You were not sure what you had expected, though it certainly was not him being so willing to throw his life away like that. And recognising that this would be what he deserved after all he had done.

“You want to die..” it came out of your mouth, before you could stop yourself, and it was not a question. The monk just looked at you in silence, not confirming, but also not denying your suspicion.

“Whatever he wants, or does not want..” Edwyn spoke up again. “As Y/N said, we cannot harm him. But we can take the boy with us. Though, you must know, we are just as lost as you are, Squirrel.”

“I will only come with you, if Lancelot can come too!” the boy seemed serious, his face a grimace.

Lancelot.. you frowned hearing his name. It made the whole thing more real to you, that the phantom haunting so many fey dreams now had a name.

Edwyn pursed his lips. It was obvious that he was not ready to just let this boy leave again with the murderous monk, not wanting to leave a fey child behind. He stepped towards the child, kneeling down before him, to be face to face. His hazel eyes mustered the young fey intently, before he spoke up again.

“I think that I am correct, when I say that you have seen great terror, my boy. Terror and pain and death. We all have. So, you must understand why your request is impossible. Even if he is fey, we cannot take him with us, he who has murdered more of our kind than any other of the paladins.” His voice was soft, his words slow, to make sure that the boy understood him and his reasoning.

Squirrel opened his mouth, but closed it again, turning for a moment to look at the tall man behind him.

“I know.” He finally said. “But.. but he can change! Why else would he have saved me? Why else would he have killed the Christian knights?”

Edwyn frowned at the words of the child, but then looked up at the weeping monk too.

“That is a good question. Why did you kill them?”

“What does it matter?” Morrigan asked, before the monk could even open his mouth. “He is a murderer, of course he is going to kill his own people! He is ready to wipe out his own kind, why would he stop at his brothers?”

“Silence, Morrigan!” Calder let out a frustrated sigh, massaging the bridge of his nose. “We.. we should consider this.”

The black-haired man chewed his lower lips for a moment, before he knelt down, rummaging through the bag at his feet, which he had used as a pillow when he slept. A moment later he pulled out a rope, stepping over to the child and the monk.

Squirrel positioned himself defensively in front of the tall man behind him once more, his eyes staring daggers at Calder, who raised his hands for a moment.

“I will not harm him, I will just bind his hands.” He started, before looking from the boy to the monk. “And then he can sit down with us, and explain his motivations. Then we will decide.”

There was a long moment of silence, while the boy thought it over. It was weird that the monk said nothing for himself, just stood there, unmoving.

“Alright.” the boy finally spoke up again.

The monk clenched his jaw again, not looking happy at all, but he still stretched his arms out, to let Calder bind them together. Leofyn in the meantime took the reigns of the monk’s horse, leading it to where your own horses were standing, trying the animal to the same tree.

Calder led the monk closer to the fire, pushing his shoulders so he sat down, the boy taking a seat right next to him. The rest of you sat down as well, apart from Morrigan who was still standing, her axe still in her hands.

“So, tell us then. Why did you decide to save the boy and kill your brothers? What caused this change of mind?” you asked, and you felt the monk’s piercing eyes on you. He held eye contact for a moment longer, before looking down at his bound hands in defeat. It was obvious that he would rather not talk about it, would probably prefer to leave the boy with you and ride away on his own, but he knew that there was no other way out of this situation now.

“I.. there was a fey knight, that.. that I captured.” He started, closing his eyes for a moment. “He had seen what you had seen, seen my hand mimic the leaves. He recognised what I am, but he didn’t tell anyone about it, did not expose me. When I asked him why, he just said that all fey were brothers, even.. even the lost ones.” The monk was silent for a moment, but you all felt that he was not done. Squirrel watched him intently as he spoke. “This knight, he said many things. Things that seemed to ring true, things that made me.. question. Question, like I had never before, I..” he let out a shaking breath. “I realised that he was right.”

“And where is this knight now?” Morrigan asked, tilting her head. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know.” The monk answered. “They called him the green knight.”

Morrigan huffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“His name is Gwain! He is our greatest warrior, and he saved many fey, bringing them to Nemos! He made me a knight too!” Squirrel suddenly spoke up, causing Morrigan to look over to him, her stance less defensive now.

“Gwain? I know him.” She then said, even if a bit reluctantly. “I met him a few years back, on his travels. He needed some of his weapons sharpened. He is a good man.”

“So finally talking to someone from you own kind made you realise that we are also just people.” You said, raising an eyebrow. The monk returned his attention to you.

He shook his head.

“It was more than that. I had.. doubts before, doubts I thought were my failure. His words just.. made it all make sense.”

“How did you end up like this?” you asked. “How did you end up as the right hand in our destruction.”

Your choice of words were harsh, you knew that, but you also knew that now was not the time to sweeten your words, that now was the time to ask the tough questions.

“Father Carden.. he spared me, when they burned my home. I was just a boy, and he.. he knew about my ability to sense other fey.” He started. His eyes went towards the fire, and it was obvious that he was not really looking at the flames, but past them, seeing images of his early life that he would rather like to forget. There was a pained expression on his face. “Father Carden told me that I was damned, devil born. That he would lead me to the road of salvation. He taught me to read, gave me scriptures to learn by heart, taught me how to fight. He made me hate the fey with burning passion, while keeping my own origins a secret. He told me that my suffering would cleanse me of the sin of being born fey.” He pursed his lips.

“Oh, gods.” Leofyn clasped her hands in front of her mouth, a shocked expression in her green eyes.

There was silence around the fire for a moment, no one quite wanting to imagine what kind of suffering the monks had made him suffer through. His face told them enough.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I believe him.” Morrigan was surprisingly the first one to speak up. “The Ash folk were known for their ability to sense other fey, and I certainly don’t think it was beyond them to steal a child, and brainwash it to believe the hogwash they tell it.”

Everyone looked up at her a bit shocked, but she had a grim expression on her face.

“Nevertheless..” she then added, axe still in her hands. “I am not convinced that a simple conversation with a knight, however noble Gwain was, could truly change him. Not yet at least. And killing a few of his brothers is not enough for me.”

“Morrigan is right, I’m afraid.” Calder nodded. “Years of teaching are not easily undone. He probably does not even remember much from our own culture, his own culture.”

“So, what do you suppose we do now?” Leofyn got up, walking over to the horses to run her hands through the mane of her mare, to calm herself down a bit.

“He is kin, one way of the other. Probably the last of the Ash folk.” You said slowly, your eyes staring into the flames again. You didn’t want to face the monk right now, and also none of your friends. “And he is a good fighter, from what we have heard about him. Having him on our side could increase our chances of survival, as much as I hate to admit it. We could teach him our ways, remind him of what he has forgotten.”

“The choice is his.” Edwyn looked over to the monk, who just stared at you in surprise. “As much as I would hate it, he can take the boy and leave. Or the two can stay, on our conditions. And we teach him what we know. If he wants that.”

“I do.” The monk said, so silently it was hard to hear his words over the howling of the wind. This time he looked surprised by his own admission.

There was a long moment of silence, with only the boy smiling up at the monk, who seemed as if he was not sure how to handle this expression.

You and your friends all shared a look. It was difficult to make a big decision like this, as there was no established leader in your group, no one to take charge. Ever since you had fled the destruction of your village a few weeks ago, you had just decided things together. It had been fine, you and your childhood friends on the run, but now you needed someone to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Everyone knew that the one to make the decision, would also be the one who had to take the responsibility for whatever the outcome was.

“You can come with us, then.” Calder said, throwing a quick glance in your direction. You nodded. “And learn our ways.”

“But do not think you are just fine to move freely as you like, not yet!” Morrigan glared at him. “Your hands will remain bound, for now, and we will tie you to a tree at night. These are the conditions for now, until you have proven yourself to be trustworthy.”

Calder nodded at her words, before looking back at the monk.

“You have to understand that we can’t just trust your word. Not after what we’ve been through.”

The monk kept silent for a while, before he simply nodded.

-----

The night felt endless, and it was obvious that after what had happened, none of you really managed to find any rest. When you went over to Morrigan, for her to take over the watch, she was still wide awake, a grim expression on her face.

You also had a hard time falling asleep, images of the slaughter of the Ash folk haunting your mind, images from when you had found had heard the screams, and found the remains of their village hours later, their bodies and homes burned.

The name Lancelot did not sound familiar, but you wondered if you had known him back then, when you had been a child. He seemed around your age, and you and your friends had often played with the Ash folk children in the forest and at the loch that bordered both of your homes.

Those weeping eyes, you had forgotten them. They looked so different now on the face of the enemy, half hidden underneath a hood, instead of your friends’ laughing faces. You groaned, turning onto your back, as your mind was running, trying to remember a child that had a similar face as the man you had met tonight.

At dawn, all of you got up quietly, packed up the camp and stomped our the remainders of the small fire. The only one who had seemed to have found any sleep was Squirrel, the child probably exhausted from what he had gone through these past days. He blinked at you through hooded eyes, when Edwyn woke him up.

Leofyn handed out a bit of food to everyone, a small piece of slightly stale bread and a small apple, which had to be enough until you found a river to fish in, or spotted game to hunt. With two more mouths to feed now, you were afraid that the small rations you had would not last for very long.

Everyone climbed on horseback, Squirrel, despite his protests at first, riding with Edwyn, and you slowly made your way further south, the sun rising to your left. The wind had gladly died down a bit, but the morning was still quite cold.

“Do you understand what ‘Born in the Dawn, to pass in the Twilight’ means?” you asked after the group of you had ridden for an hour or two, your horse walking beside the dark animal of the monk. The sooner you would start with teaching him your ways, the better, you thought.

There was a moment of silence between you, and for a moment you thought that he would not answer at all, until he finally spoke up.

“No.”

It saddened you, that he wasn’t even aware of the most basic things of your people, the simplest sentence every child could recite.

“We believe that we were the first, to walk the earth. The very first spirits to be created. This is what we mean, when we say ‘born in the dawn’. We were born in the dawn of the world.” You started, mustering him. His eyes were on the road, his face half hidden behind his large hood. “’To pass in the twilight’ denotes our connection to the hidden.”

“What is the hidden?” you heard the monk ask, his low voice somewhat shy. He still didn’t look at you.

“Spirits of nature. The Sky folk say that they are direct decedent from the hidden, which is why they have such a strong connection to them. But all fey are somewhat connected to them, some more and some less. This is what gives us our magic.” You raised your hand, producing a dancing flame between your fingers, catching Lancelot’s eye.

“How do you know, if you have a connection?” he asked with a frown, looking down at his bound hands. “And do you see the hidden as your gods?”

You were glad that he asked questions, that he seemed to be interested of his own accord. You would have hated to have to lecture him, not knowing if he took in anything you said.

“To answer your second question first, no. The hidden are not gods. As I said, they are spirits of nature, to which we fey have a connection to. See them more as.. ancestors, watching over us, and supporting us. We have to go into ourselves, to feel them. It can take time, but it is always possible. We also have our gods, many gods. Good ones, bad ones.. and everything in between. But that is a topic for another day.” You smiled carefully.

“Father Carden told me that I had to fight the fey, to feel the grace of god.” Lancelot said, and your smile dropped.

“Well, he was wrong.” You said with a slat voice, causing the man to turn his head towards you. “You didn’t feel his grace, because their god is not real.”

The monk squinted his eyes at you.

“How do you know I never felt his grace?”

“Well, have you?” you challengingly raised an eyebrow, mustering his face.

Lancelot stared at you for a whole with pursed lips, before averting his gaze. You huffed, a smile forming on your lips again.

“As I said.” You clicked your tongue, a command for your horse to speed up a bit, so you were able to catch up with Leofyn riding in front of you.

You felt Lancelot’s eyes like daggers in your back, but you also knew that you had helped him take the first step back to who he was supposed to be. It would take time, you knew, and it would not be easy to undo all the years, all the damage the church had done to him. But you believed that it was possible.

------

The days went by, the weather ever changing. It grew colder and the leaves started to fall from the trees, providing less cover from both the elements, and possible prying eyes. You travelled most of the day through the forests, trying to avoid roads and open plains, always going south and only stopping for one or two hours at the time, to hunt and eat. When it grew dark, you made camp to sleep, getting back on horseback as soon as it dawned.

It was not always possible to find shelter from the rain, and being damp and cold was your everyday reality by now.

Morrigan had started to train the young boy, who had finally admitted that his real name was Percival and not Squirrel, after the boy had begged all of you to make him the knight he ought to be. You guessed, as Morrigan indeed knew the knight who had knighted the boy, that she felt that it was her responsibility to teach him what she knew.

Morrigan was a good fighter, one of the best you had ever met. She had been the blacksmith of your home, had taken over the profession from her mother, and her grandmother before that. When you had been teenagers, she had forged her first swords, blunt once, so you could practice together safely. Which of course did not mean that you did not suffer many bruises, and two broken fingers over the years from these blunt swords.

You and Edwyn took turns, telling Lancelot about your culture and history, challenging the believes that the Christians had beaten into him. The evenings the man spent in contemplation, and where you had spotted him praying to the Christian god in the first few nights that he was with your group, you were relieved when he had stopped, instead leaning against the tree he was usually bound to at night, staring up into the orange leaves above him.

You were sitting at the campfire, after everyone had just finished their meagre meals, as so often staring into the flames and making them dance with your magic, noticing how Lancelot’s blue eyes watched as well, from his spot on the opposite side of the fire. You were not sure if it was a good idea, making him see what you so casually could do, when you were not entirely sure if he had already stopped to think of you as devils and demons. Before you could entertain the thought further, Calder sat down next to you.

“The nights are getting colder. We need to find a place to stay, if we want to survive the winter.” He said in a low voice, so that only you could hear him. Calder had established himself more and more as the leader of your group, and you supposed it was not different back when you were children. He was just a year older than the rest of you, but when you had played pretend in the forests as children, everyone had always looked at him to be told what to do, or where to go.

He of course never made decisions all by himself, never had. Just as back in the day when you were children, he asked each of you what you thought about things, sought out your council, never blindly guiding you somewhere you didn’t want to go. He most often came to speak to you, though, which made sense, as you two had grown up together, and were almost like siblings. Your families had been close friends, and you saw each other as family.

“I know. I don’t think we will reach Cornwall before Samhain, not with the pace we have now.” You sighed, resting your arms on your knees.

“If we hurry, we might reach it a week or two after, but frankly, I don’t want to risk it, not with the boy. Morrigan and I want to scout out tomorrow, to see if we can find some caves or something similar, to make a more permanent camp for the time being. To wait out the winter and travel on come spring.” He sighed. “Though I am not sure what is more dangerous: you all remaining here, where you could be attacked, or you keep moving further south, risking us not finding you again.” He pursed his lips.

“Neither sounds appealing, if I am honest. But with all of us, you would be slowed down.” You nodded at the many saddle bags next to the horses, containing everything you had managed to save of salvage from the red paladins.

“You are a very skilled fighter, and Edwyn is also not half bad. I’d rather know where you are, than go looking for you.” Calder said after a few moments of silence and you nodded.

“We should still move a bit, away from the camp here and find a more secluded spot. Maybe travel and hour or two together in the morning before we part ways.” You suggested, and now it was Calder who nodded.

“Good idea.” He said before getting up. He walked over to Morrigan, who was with the horses, to discuss the plan for the next day.

“What were you talking about?” a voice caused you to turn your head to the other side, where Percival was sitting. You had not noticed him approaching you, let alone sitting down right next to you. The boy was as silent as a mouse, if he wanted to be.

“Calder and Morrigan will ride out tomorrow, to look for a place to spend the winter.” You explained to him. “We will go with them for a bit, and then make camp, so they will find us again.”

“Sitting in one place for so long, won’t that be dangerous?” the boy tilted his head at you. You nodded.

“Yes, but it also means that the others can find us again when we return.” You crossed your legs, turning a bit more towards the boy. “But with a knight like you and a fighter like me, we can best anything that would dare to attack us.” You grinned.

“You are a fighter?” the boy’s eyes grew big.

“Oh yes!” you put your hand onto the sword at your side. “My parents were both fey knights, protectors of our village. They taught me from a young age. Morrigan and I used to practice a lot together, and I think you already got a taste of her skill, no?”

Percival seemed both impressed and relieved that he was at least in good hands, when you had to stay put. He smiled, before his expression got serious again.

“Was Morrigan named after The Morrigan, because she is a warrior, or did she just become like that because she was named after the war god?” he asked looking over at the tall woman.

“I’ve asked myself the same thing, you know.” You had to grin. “You should go to bed now.” You than added, glad that the boy just nodded and went over to where a few blankets were waiting for him.

You were not sure how far from civilisation you already were, how far from the roads, and most importantly, how far from the next red paladin patrol. You were still not southern enough, to escape their influence, and had stumbled over more than a few remains of fey wandering the forests, alarming you that the monks were indeed patrolling this area. They seemed to be everywhere, even in the most remote areas, jumping out of the bushes wherever one went.

But on the other hand, now with their sniffing dog gone, maybe they would not find you so easily.

You felt a bit bad, comparing the poor man to a dog in your mind, but that was exactly how he had been used by the Christians. To sniff out his own kind and hunt them down. Thinking about it made you both want to rip his throat out, and wrap him into your arms, to tell him that it was all over now. Which was a really weird mix of feelings, you had to admit that.

-------

The next morning you got up before dawn, stomped out the fire and got on horseback, riding south. Percival was asleep in Edwyn’s arms, having fallen asleep almost as soon as he had been seated in the saddle. When the sun finally edged over the horizon, Calder and Morrigan said their goodbyes, kicking their horses’ sides and galloping on further, while the rest of you made camp, hidden in a small grove between thick bushes, and a small waterfall.

The horses went grazing, munching away on what little begetation was still green, while Leofyn and Edwyn started to pull the bags off their backs, to set up camp. You scouted the surroundings, to make sure that there was not already someone close by, and that you were far enough from roads or settlements. You also made your way a bit more upstream, filling everyone’s waterskins in the small creek, after you had made sure the water was more or less clean. You put the waterskins back into the large bag you were carrying them in, before returning to the camp.

When you arrived, you found Percival awake, in the centre of the camp, a stick in his hand, moving it like a sword, while Lancelot gave him instructions, sitting with his back against some rocks next to the waterfall, his bound hands in his lap. He was still wearing his hood, and you had to admit that you had never seen him without it. You wondered why he never took it off.

“No, stretch your arms out, or else they can be pushed down easily.” Lancelot said, as the boy held his stick in a lower, defensive guard.

“Like this.” You came up behind the boy, correcting his position carefully by guiding his arms. You rounded him, pulling your own sword from your sheath, and demonstrated the correct grip and stance. “And from here you can do many things, while the position of the blade covers you. You can thrust like this, or cut, or strike.” You demonstrated a few movements. “Personally, I prefer to thrust.”

“Why?” Percival asked, trying to copy what you had just shown him.

“It is quick and deadly, especially if your opponent is unarmoured.” You made a few elegant routines with your sword, swinging it through the air in practiced moves, before taking the same guard as before. “If he tries to strike you, you parry, move your sword and thrust. If done right, it can be very effective, especially against unexperienced or tired opponents.”

“What else can you do?” the boy stared up at you with big eyes, causing you to laugh.

“Oh, many things! When we find a place to stay for the winter, Morrigan and I will show you all of them. Then, come spring, you will be a lot closer to being a true knight.” You winked, sheathing your sword again. You pulled out one of the waterskins from the bag around your shoulders, throwing it at Percival, before throwing another one at Lancelot, who caught it with his bound hands. There was an odd expression on his face that you could not really place, so you quickly turned towards Leofyn and Edwyn, who were close to the horses.

You felt quite bad for the two of them, as they had initially intended to join their lives, right at the time when the paladins had destroyed your village. They had been together since they were teenagers, and finally wanted to start a family of their own.

“I hope they are safe.” Leofyn said, as you handed her the remaining waterskins. She shook her head slightly. “The thought of losing them.. no, I could not bear it.”

“They will be alright. Morrigan is a berserker, nothing will cut her down, you know that.” You smiled, putting a hand on your friend’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know, I know. You are right.” A sad smile was on her lips, and she petted your hand a few times, before sitting down next to Edwyn, resting her head against his shoulder. You nodded, before turning away again, wanting to give them some privacy.

So back to the kid and the monk it was, then, you thought.

With a sigh you wandered over to them, sitting down with your back to the rocks as well, though in a safe distance from Lancelot. Both of you kept watching Percival, as he spun around, trying his best to follow the instructions the two of you had given him. You hoped that he would tire himself out quickly, so that the rest of you could have a moment of tranquillity to yourselves.

“Tell me about.. our home.” Lancelot’s voice broke the silence between you, and you head turned towards him. His blue eyes mustered you, his expression one full of sadness. You looked down at your hands for a moment, trying to recollect what you remembered. Your grandmother had never gotten over having to move south, so she always recollected stories and talked about people, so you never quite forgot the few years you spent in Scotland.

“Be aware, I was quite young myself, when this happened.” You started with a sigh. “Well, our villages were located north, in the glens of Scotland. There was a forest between us, and a lock. There was a lot of trade between the Ash and the Fire folk, and we children met up often, paying in the forests or in the water, were up to all kinds of shenanigans. I wonder if we knew each other back then.” You finally looked up, studying his face, to see if any of this sounded familiar.

“I remember a lake. I remember the fishermen being angry because we scared away the fish.” Lancelot frowned. You had to grin.

“Yes! Yes, they would try and hush us away! But we would just steal their ale and run.” You had to laugh, and Lancelot grinned as well.

“Yes, I.. I remember that.” He looked quite surprised by that.

“We celebrated our ceremonies together, the Ash and the Fire folk. We met on one of the hills, where our temple was. We celebrated Samhain, which we would celebrate in a few weeks, actually, the beginning of winter. We celebrated Imbolc, the beginning of spring, Beltane, the beginning of summer and Lughnasadh, the beginning of the harvest season. Do you remember?” your voice was full of excitement. It was the first time that the man seemed to remember his past, remember what came before the monks and the Christians, and you wanted to latch onto that. Most of what you and Edwyn had told him until now were general stories about the gods and old heroes, but you realised that starting with simple things, like things you did as children, were maybe better to jock his memory.

Lancelot pursed his lips, his frown deepening as he stared onto the leaf covered ground. He picked up one of the leaves, his skin starting to turn red and orange, his blue eyes watching the change.

“I remember.. I remember a hill. With tall stones.” He started.

“The temple.” You said, nodding enthusiastically.

“I remember holding my mother’s hand.. she told me that there would be a feast after, and that I had to behave.” One of the corners of his mouth raised slightly, as he turned the leaf between his fingers. “I remember being very bored.” He then added, looking up at you.

You had to laugh at his words, and a real smile also formed on his face. You realised that this was the first time you had seen the man smile. It was a beautiful smile, from a beautiful man.

“This’ our time, the night’s our day.” You started, mustering his face intently.

“We’ll dance this fading life away.” He ended the rhyme, part of a song sung during the Samhain festivities, again looking very surprised by himself. Then, his smile grew sad, and he looked down at the ground again, his hood covering his face. “To think.. that I destroyed so many of us.” He said silently, shaking his head. “Thinking that I was doing the right thing.”

“Isn’t that something the Christians always talk about? Atone for your sins, or something like that?” you said, not knowing if that was even correct. You did not know much about their religion, only that they worshipped a guy, killed in the most painful way possible, and whatever the paladins yelled when they were slaughtering your kind. But Lancelot nodded.

“I thought that killing fey would wash the sin away.” His voice was pained.

“Being born fey is not a sin.” You sin, your eyes mustering his slumped form. You hated the whole concept of ‘sin’, it was something that did originally not exist in your culture.

“I know that.. now.” He let his head drop against the stones behind him. “But it won’t bring any of them back.”

You could not argue with that.

“It won’t bring them back, no. And it won’t undo the horrors you have created. Assessing how much of that was your fault is not a simple black and white matter, and frankly, I don’t think trying to figure it out would be particularly useful.” You sighed, pulling your legs to your chest. “What is important now for you is to change. To renounce the lies you were fed and to find back to what you are. Who you are.”

There was silence between you for a moment, both of you simply watching Percival, who was still practicing with his stick, completely oblivious to your conversation.

“Your magic.. what can it do?” Lancelot suddenly spoke up again, and you had to look over to him once more.

“Many things. Some people can do more than others. Why?” you frowned a bit. He had told you about the ash storm the Wolf-Blood-Witch had conjured up a few days ago, and considering that he was Ash folk and the rest of you were Fire folk, he wondered if you too would be capable of such things.

“Can it heal?” he asked instead, catching you a bit off guard, his expression undecipherable.

“Leofyn can heal with magic. She also used to be the healer of our village.” You said, nodding towards your friend. “Are you injured? Is that why you keep your hood up?” you had not forgotten the blood on his face, that he had since washed off. It had only been two weeks since he and the boy had joined you, and if he had been seriously injured, his wounds would not have healed yet.

Lancelot took a deep breath, staring at the ground.

“Yes. But that is not why I’m asking.” His words confused you, but before you could ask anything else, he had raised his hand, and pulled his hood from his head.

His hair was greasy and dishevelled, a look all of you shared after such a long time on the run. It was long, and tied up to a knot in his neck. But there, right on the crown of is scalp, you saw something that made your breath hitch in your throat.

You had seen it on the heads of the paladins too, but for some reason it had not occurred to you that he would bear the same mark. A bald spot, with a cross deeply cut into his flesh. For some reason it did not look like an old scar, even though you were certain that it must’ve been there fore years. You didn’t even want to think about why it looked so fresh.

“Can she heal this?” Lancelot asked, facing you, and you could see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t want to have this mark on my boy any longer.”

You could not supress the utter pity that was written across your face. You nodded quickly and got up, hurrying over to Leofyn, who was silently talking with Edwyn. When they saw you approach, both of the looked up to you.

“Leo, he needs your help.” Was all you could say, as you stretched our your trembling hand, and pulled the other woman to her feet. She nodded, and followed you, her eyes growing wide as she too spotted the cross on the young man’s head.

“By all the gods!” she exclaimed, taking a step back. Percival, a frown on his face, lowered his stick in confusion.

Leofyn took a deep breath, her expression turning from shocked to determined. She knelt down in front of the monk, pushing up the sleeves of her tunic.

“Lower your head. Yes, like that. This will hurt.” She simply said, before putting her hands onto the cross, her eyes closing and her lips starting to move.

You had seen her like this often, had seen her heal with her magic many times before, but Percival, who stared at her with an open mouth, had definitely not. Leofyn started to glow from the inside, as if there was a fire burning right in her core. One could see the shadows of her bones through her skin, as she emanated a warm, orange light. A pained groan left Lancelot’s lips.

Percival dropped his stick, wanting to run over to him, but you reacted quickly, managing to grab his shoulders to pull him back. You keeled down beside him, your arms still wrapped around him.

“She is healing him. But fire burns.” Was all you said, as both of you watched Leofyn glow even brighter, and Lancelot’s breathing turn into a hiss.

And then, just like that, it was over. The glowing subsided, and Leofyn pulled her hands back, a smile on her face. The cross was gone, not even leaving a scar. The hair would soon grow back, given some time. Leofyn looked exhausted, healing a wound to thoroughly had drained her.

“It is alright.” Leofyn’s voice was soft, and Lancelot looked up at her, his face red and his breath still ragged.

“Thank you.” Lancelot finally found his voice again, but Leofyn just smiled.

“Welcome home.” She simply said.

The woman sighed, before she got up, leaning on Edwyn who had also come over. He half carried her back to where they were sitting, letting her lean against him, wrapped up in his arms.

------

The sun was high in the sky, and Edwyn had taken Percival to hunt for rabbits, the bounty of their efforts being enough to feed all of them for two days. The boy had also found a few berries and a pear tree, enabling you to stock up on as much fruit as your horses could carry.

Lancelot had fallen asleep, after the wound on his head had been healed, and you were glad that he could finally find some rest. You had noticed that, at least every time you had held watch at night, he had been wide awake.

You had wrapped yourself up in your cloak and blanket, the ground and the rock behind you cold, despite the sunshine. The sound of the waterfall was intensely calming, and you felt yourself almost dozing off too, when suddenly you could hear an unnatural rustling of the leaves. Your eyes flew wide open, and you were on your feet a moment later, your cloak falling onto the ground behind you, and your sword in your hand.

Edwyn and Leofyn startled, when they saw you jump up, but seeing our expressions they too got up and drew their weapons. Edwyn threw his hunting bow and quiver over to a frightened looking Percival. You moved a finger in front of your mouth, a sign for the others to keep quiet, before you slowly moved away from the rocks and the creek, and towards where the bushes and foliage around you opened up, so you could look into the forest.

You held your breath, when from between the trees you spotted a group of red paladins, two on horseback, riding through the forest, one in the front, looking at the ground, apparently searching for tracks. They were already quite close, and in a minute or so they would probably pass your hiding spot. It was hard to make out how many of them were there, but you guessed around a dozen or so.

You looked back at the others, nodding once, and gesturing the number of paladins you estimated to the others, before stepping a bit back to get more cover. Percival picked up the bow and the arrows, before shaking Lancelot’s leg to wake him up.

The steps of the paladins grew louder, and you tried your best to keep your breathing even, raising your sword. As soon as you spotted just an inch of red fabric, your struck with your blade, hitting the monk right in the neck and cutting him open. Shouting immediately followed, as you kicked the gurling man in the stomach, so his body fell back and onto one of his brothers.

The horses got spooked, and started to kick, and you used it as a distraction to round the group, your sword in front of you, to guard you from any attacks, in exactly the manner you had taught Percival just hours before.

Edwyn jumped out of the bushes behind the group, thrusting his short sword in the back of one of them, and using his small shield to block an attack. You also parried the attack of a monk charging at you, using his momentum to your advantage by simply side-stepping, letting his sword glide down yours and cutting him right in the shoulder when he moved past you.

You managed to get your sword up just in time to parry another strike, letting go of the hilt with one hand, to grab your own blade and quickly turning your sword, to pommel the paladin right in the face. A loud crack confirmed that you had just broken his jaw.

You turned around to attack another of them, who stormed towards you with his sword raised, but suddenly an arrow pierced him right through the neck, and he fell down in front of your feet. Behind him you could see Percival, looking amazed and afeard at the same time, bow in hand.

You only had a moment to nod at him, before you engaged another red paladin, this one quicker and obviously more experienced. He was able to counter some of your attacks, until you managed to parry, and hinder his stroke by setting aside his blade, and thrusting right into his chest. Sweat was running down your face and you felt a cut that had not seemed so deep on your arm to start to throb. Your left hand also felt slippery, the sword having cut through your fingerless gloves and into your hand. When you had gripped it earlier. You didn’t have time to wipe off your hands on your clothes.

You struck the sword of a paladin to the side, wanting to go in with a thrust, when a sword cut through his neck from behind, cleanly decapitating the man, who limply fell to the ground now. In front of you was Lancelot, who had apparently picked up one of the other monks’ swords, and had cut his hands free. He nodded at you, before he turned, cutting through another man in red with elegance you had never seen before. The stories of his skill had definitely been true, although your thought his twists and turns were a bit excessive.

It was over as sudden as it had began, and from one moment to the next, there was silence around you. The last man-blood was dead on the ground, their blood seeping into the earth and the water of the creek.

You wiped your sweat off your face, only to remember that your hand was still bleeding, and you were just smearing it all over you. Edwyn also seemed to be lightly wounded, but he spit on the corpse of one of the monks, before sheathing his sword.

Lancelot was looking around himself, and down at his dead brothers, looking a bit as if he was having an existential crisis, that you really did not have the patience to deal with right now.

“We have to move.” Was all your said. “That blook will be seen by someone eventually.” You nodded at the creek.

“I agree. We should go north-west. It will bring us away from the stream, but not too far so that we won’t be found.” Edwyn nodded, starting to pack up whatever you had taken off the horses, and making sure the rabbits and the foraged food were safely packed up.

You went over to the water, washing your face and hand, before wrapping a piece of cloth around your palm, and arm.

“I will make some markings.” Leofyn said, more to herself than anyone else. “Come Squirrel, help me with it.” She pulled Percival with her, as she started to gather twigs and other flora, to create fey symbols out of them, for the others to find, to tell them where you went.

You knelt at the at the creek for a moment longer, before you got up and started to pull the arrows out of the paladins’ bodies. You also searched them for anything useful. Gladly their horses had not gone far, and you managed to find some food, some ale, and some parchment with maps and instructions, which you promptly burned in your hand.

Freed of their saddles and bags, you sent the horses off, to run into a different direction than where the paladins had come from.

When you returned to the others, handing over your findings to Edwyn, you noticed that Lancelot had watched you.

“Want to say something?” you asked, maybe a bit more challenging than you had intended to. But your heartbeat was still fast, blood still rushing through your ears.

“No.” he frowned, his face confused, as he stretched out his hand, the pommel of the sword he was holding pointing in your direction. But you just shook your head.

“No, keep it. I think you have proven yourself today to be trustworthy, and you are a lot more useful with a sword in your hand than tied up, should we be attacked again.” You were not sure if it was a wise decision, but it was the first thing that came to mind. He also seemed to be surprised at your words.

Lancelot nodded, before walking over to one of the many bodies on the ground, removing a sheath and a belt from one of them, to secure the sword on his waist.

A few minutes later, everyone was ready, and the markings had been placed where your camp had been just moments ago.

‘Riding north-west’ the markings said.

“So that is what those symbols mean.” Lancelot said, as you got onto your horses, and a smirk appeared on your face.

“So much culture, hm? Let’s make sure it’s not forgotten, eh?” with that, you started to ride.

#weeping monk #weeping monk x reader #the weeping monk #weeping monk x you #wrong side #cursed netflix #the weeping monk x reader

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 3 years ago

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against my better judgement I am going to let people vote on a book for me to read

please don't clown. refer to this post for a working definition of clownery. I won't block you if you try to recommend a completely different book but I will publicly shame you and at the end of the day isn't that actually way worse?

anyway here's the deal: I'm taking the four novels that have been gathering figurative dust on my TBR the longest and providing a brief description/blurb of each of them here. then you're gonna click that google link and vote once, for one of them. can we all handle that?

cool. now, MEET YOUR CANDIDATES:

Empress of Forever (Max Gladstone, 2019):

A wildly successful innovator to rival Steve Jobs or Elon Musk, Vivian Liao is prone to radical thinking, quick decision-making, and reckless action. On the eve of her greatest achievement, she tries to outrun people who are trying to steal her success. In the chilly darkness of a Boston server farm, Viv sets her ultimate plan into motion. A terrifying instant later, Vivian Liao is catapulted through space and time to a far future where she confronts a destiny stranger and more deadly than she could ever imagine. The end of time is ruled by an ancient, powerful Empress who blesses or blasts entire planets with a single thought. Rebellion is literally impossible to consider--until Vivian Liao arrives. Trapped between the Pride—a ravening horde of sentient machines—and a fanatical sect of warrior monks who call themselves the Mirrorfaith, Viv must rally a strange group of allies to confront the Empress and find a way back to the world and life she left behind.

Station Eleven (Emily St. John Mandel, 2015)

One snowy night a famous Hollywood actor slumps over and dies onstage during a production of King Lear. Hours later, the world as we know it begins to dissolve. Moving back and forth in time—from the actor's early days as a film star to fifteen years in the future, when a theater troupe known as The Travelling Symphony roams the wasteland of what remains—this suspenseful, elegiac, spellbinding novel charts the strange twists of fate that connect five people: the actor, the man who tried to save him, the actor's first wife, his oldest friend, and a young actress with the Traveling Symphony, caught in the crosshairs of a dangerous self-proclaimed prophet. Sometimes terrifying, sometimes tender, Station Eleven tells a story about the relationships that sustain us, the ephemeral nature of fame, and the beauty of the world as we know it

Docile (K.M. Szpara, 2020)

To be a Docile is to be kept, body and soul, for the uses of the owner of your contract. To be a Docile is to forget, to disappear, to hide inside your body from the horrors of your service. To be a Docile is to sell yourself to pay your parents' debts and buy your children's future. Elisha Wilder’s family has been ruined by debt, handed down to them from previous generations. His mother never recovered from the Dociline she took during her term as a Docile, so when Elisha decides to try and erase the family’s debt himself, he swears he will never take the drug that took his mother from him. Too bad his contract has been purchased by Alexander Bishop III, whose ultra-rich family is the brains (and money) behind Dociline and the entire Office of Debt Resolution. When Elisha refuses Dociline, Alex refuses to believe that his family’s crowning achievement could have any negative side effects—and is determined to turn Elisha into the perfect Docile without it.

Lovecraft Country (Matt Ruff, 2016)

Chicago, 1954. When his father goes missing, twenty-two-year-old Army veteran Atticus Turner embarks on a road trip to New England to find him, accompanied by his uncle George—publisher of The Safe Negro Travel Guide—and his childhood friend Letitia. On their journey to the manor of Samuel Braithwhite—heir to the estate that owned one of Atticus’s ancestors—they encounter both the mundane terrors of white America and malevolent spirits that seem straight out of the weird tales George devours.

Atticus discovers his father in chains, held prisoner by a secret cabal, the Order of the Ancient Dawn—led by Braithwhite and his son Caleb—which has gathered to perform a ritual that shockingly centers on Atticus. And his one hope of salvation may be the seed of his—and the whole Turner clan’s—destruction.

alrighty giddy up and go vote. if you hop into my replies/inbox to explain to me why any of these are Very Bad And You Shouldn't Read Them, Actually, then congrats - that one automatically wins by default.

#bookblr #don't make me regret this

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jonthethinker · 5 years ago

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Is there any better metaphor for who Yasha Nydoorin is as a person than a harp made of bone?

By all appearances, Yasha could be a frightening person to meet for the first time. To the average stranger she must be quite unnerving, her quiet nature and generally intimidating presence leaving one with the impression that she holds very little regard for you whatsoever. And then she speaks, and you aren’t sure if she’s joking and frankly you’re too scared to ask.

But if you spend the time to really observe her, pluck her strings so to speak, you find it remarkably difficult to create a single harsh note. By her very nature, the music of her actions, and her soul, is of the much softer variety. Gentleness and softness are not what you expect from an instrument made of twisted bone, but it only defines your expectations when you focus on what its made of, and not what it’s made for.

Something that always catches me off guard about Yasha is her willingness to just do the thing she jokes about, or feels insecure or uncertain about. Like become a harpist, because Jester once joked about her being a Rock harpist to make her feel better. She undoubtedly had the same sorts of thoughts we all would in such a situation; I don’t know anything about playing harp, why would I buy one and embarrass myself in front of my friends? But then she still does it anyway, and commits to it, and ends up playing it in front of hundreds of people because of her friends’ encouragement, within weeks of first playing it.

Beau falls through the air towards her, asking her to catch her. She could surprise Beau and fly to meet her, she thinks, if her dreams are true. But it would be so embarrassing if they weren’t, or if they were but she still couldn’t fly. I mean, she’s never flown before, right? But wouldn’t it be so special to share that discovery with Beau before anyone else, to share in the joy of her first flight with the monk that’s stealing her heart? So she does it anyway, sheepishly trying to get her friends to look away as she takes the leap into her first flight.

With Jester’s help, she writes a poem, to put some measure of her feelings for Beau into words. Put it down on paper, so they don’t turn to mush in her mouth like they always do whenever her eyes meet Beau’s. But it’s so cheesy, she thinks. She sweats just thinking about it. But then Beau comes up to her, asks her how she is. Explains her worries over a look on Yasha’s face she saw in a passing glance weeks ago. She thinks about me that much? Beau empathizes with Yasha’s experiences under Obann’s thrall, holds not one ounce of a grudge against her for almost killing her, even when the thought of that moment has filled Yasha’s mind every day.

Yasha’s seen where Beau hales from, seen the dour and drab landscapes, the harsh and rocky soil her seed was planted in, how poorly watered and tended, and yet what a bright, beautiful flower burst through anyway. And yet clearly Yasha can tell that this wonderful flower still thinks its as ugly and barren and rough as the land that bore it. And this simply cannot do. No way, no how. So she gives her the poem anyway, her heart pushes through the litany of doubtful thoughts that seek to tangle it up, all in order to show that flower a mirror. All to say; this is how I see you, and I’ve seen you a lot.

We’ve all been assuming Zuala courted Yasha, and that may very well be the case. Maybe Zuala showed Yasha all the ways she can be and feel deeply loved, and now Yasha is eager to teach Beau what she has learned. But maybe, just maybe, this nervous, awkward woman, raised in the brutal wastes of Xhorhas, raised to understand the consequences of such a courtship in the Dolorav Tribe, chases it anyway. And pays a high price, but lives on anyway. A coward she thinks, but still impossibly, incredibly brave anyway. A horrible monster she thinks for what she did under Obann, but her friends love her anyway.

And she writes a corny, cheesy, stupid poem, but gives it to her crush anyway. Because you can make a harp from bone, twisted and unnatural and scary to look upon, but in the end it’s still a harp, and no matter how harsh you think it would sound, it still sounds soft anyway.

#critical role #cr spoilers #Beauyasha #Yasha Nydoorin #Yasha #Beau #Beauregard #Beauregard Lionett #Yasha has been on my mind all weekend #so I just had to write about her #Now I can sleep

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trixree · 3 years ago

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i love that little fma/clone wars crossover drabble doublet you did, i so badly wish i understood what over half of it means but i understood enough to feel like al would from his perspective

It is a beautiful day in the country of Amestris, 1914, and you are Fuher King Bradley.

Your Very Robust Military (see also: Imperalism) boasts a selective State Alchemist program which funds scientists' pursuits to their hearts' content, so long as the military is able to call upon them to serve.

Now, alchemy is kind of like science meets magic and face-fucked it with a cool aesthetic. Basically, Anything Can Happen, the laws of physics, chemistry, and nature are yours to bend as you please. Draw a little Science Circle and follow the Law of Equivalent Exchange (something cannot be obtained unless something of equal value is given; basically, you can't have an unbalanced equation) and BAM! SCIENCE!

This is Colonel Roy Mustang, who has this Science Circle on his hand (it's called a "transmutation array" but science circle just sounds better) and uses it + a spark from this lighter to make FIRE!!!

In order to become a STATE ALCHEMIST (a science baddie funded by the hyper militarized state government) one must demonstrate ones' novel skills and demonstrate qualifiations. So here YOU are, Fuher King Bradley, highest office in the land, watching the State Alchemist Exams.

And in walks A GODDAMN TWELVE YEAR OLD CHILD.

There is no way I can do the sheer absurdity of this moment any justice, so you just need to watch this two minute clip and then come back, okay? (Promise me you'll come back anon, cause we aren't done.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzdRXA1uiNc

Some things to Note:

1. This child did not use a transmutation array. This is, for all intents and purposes, basically impossible.

2. This is a child.

3. This child just lunged at the KING with a WEAPON and said, "Damn, you really have some holes in your security, dude."

You know how that kid said, "Yeah, I lost my arm in the war with the East?" Little bastard was lyyiiiiing!!! Remember that law of equivalent exchange thing? Where you can't obtain anything unless something of equal value is given? WELL. OUR BABY CHAOS BOY HERE AND HIS YOUNGER BROTHER ARE PRODIGIES. AND THEY TRIED TO USE ALCHEMY TO BRING THEIR MOTHER BACK FROM THE DEAD!

Spoiler alert: that did not work.

Additional note: this is considered "human transmutation", which is so fucking taboo it's basically just straight sinning.

Little brother, Alphonse, lost his entire body. Big brother, Edward, our baby chaos "lemme attack the fuher real quick" boy, lost his leg. And then, realizing that his little baby brother was GONE, sacrificed his ARM to bind his brother's soul to a suit of armor, pictured below.

Edward here wants to be a state alchemist (which is no challenge, really, because he and his brother both are fucking PRODIGIES, the real challenge is learning how to walk again hahaha oopsie, -1 leg, -1 arm and also keeping the Science Crimes Against God and Man that they did a secret) because he wants that SWEET SWEET MILITARY MONEY to find a way to get his brother's body back (and also his limbs, I guess, but Al is his priority for... obvious reasons).

Anyways.

My AU with the Clone Wars takes place AFTER the events of the Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood series (NOT FMA 2003, we don't talk about her) once Alphonse here has his flesh-and-blood body back.

My premise is, basically, post-series the brothers are like "lets go to space for Science Reasons" and then they do that.

I am making the Force and alchemy kind of the same thing in a hand-wavey way. Like, here's a terrible analogy for you:

A monk (Jedi) observes and understands that Gravity (ie., the Force in this shitty analogy) is a thing that acts in a certain way. They attribute gravity to their god/spirituality/Universe. "This is how it is because the Universe wills it" or whatever. The Alchemist observes Gravity, uses math and physics to quantify and understand it, and experiments with it until they can break it and put it back together again Better.

There's a lot of context stuff that you're missing with this general overview, like, precisely the sort of things that the Elric brothers know from their own experiences in-series as well as context for why they might see a massive cloning operation intended to produce an army and had a Trauma Response, among other things. But this is my quick-and-dirty guide to FMAB.

And really, I cannot recommend ENOUGH that anyone who hasn't seen this series immediately go watch it right now. Yes, imo it is better than One Piece. In my humble opinion, this is The Single Best Anime out there. Nothing compares for me. Like, really, it's just on an entirely different level. The pacing is perfect, the story is beautifully crafted, the characters will break your heart a thousand and one ways, and the soundtrack is the best out there. It has perfect moments of levity and then soul crushing moments of horror and tragedy. It's about scientific ethics; it's about Imperalism; it's about human nature; it's about God and Truth; it's about loss; it's about love; it's about brotherhood.

It's the best fucking thing you'll ever watch.

#fmab #asked and answered #fullmetal clone wars #my AU's #anime recommendation #Long Post #anime rec #trixree speaks

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salute-the-dead · 4 years ago

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A List of My OTPs

because it's 11 and I can't sleep.

Enjolras x Grantaire a.k.a. Enjoltaire a.k.a. ExR- Les Mis

How I fell into this I don't remember now. I vaguely remember reading a crackfic of this and then everything just went sideways.

This was also the fandom that helped me realize that I wasn't exactly straight and that it's okay to not be loud about my sexuality, that I can just be.

I think that explains my attachment to this ship, not to mention just the movie's Grantaire (played by George Blagden) also shipped the characters and played his character like how he thought it should be, Grantaire loving and pining after Enjolras without the revolutionary knowing it.

Except in the fan fics, Enjolras returns his feelings and they work it out, even though it's not easy because they're both stubborn as mules. Ah, ultimate fantasy I guess. And the number of great fics here, *whistle*

Also, the Les Amis? Is amazing? Especially in the modern AUs? Like they're great friends? I love this fandom so much! Permets-tu!

Shen Wei x Zhao Yunlan - Guardian / Zhen Hun

C'mon, Zhu Yilong & Bai Yu's performance and emotions? Plus just the fact the fanfic writers of this ship are absolutely amazing? Please, escape from this pairing is impossible!

Best opposites attract trope for me. An academic by day, superhero by night in love with a roguish police chief who has no powers but whose charisma, wit, and heart can get him to toe to toe with the legends.

Also, Professor Shen Wei constantly acting like an innocent civilian and lying badly? Gold!

Loki x Tony Stark a.k.a. FrostIron - Avengers

How did I honestly get to this ship? I really can't remember what started it all. I think it must have been a Loki redemption fic where Tony Stark and Pepper broke up and something something happened. Let me tell you, the writers of this ship have written sagas and ballads of epic and sometimes confusing proportions, and that is why I fell deeper into the pit. I mean, they gotta give justice to two brilliant but chaotic characters, right? Angst. This ship has sooooooooo much angst.

Eiji x Ash - Banana Fish

My god, if you want to keep your heart intact and not be reminded of all that's ugly in the world, DON'T WATCH OR READ BANANA FISH. YOUR HEART WILL NEVER HEAL!

If you're gonna watch/read it anyway, make sure to watch something fluffy and sweet after. There's a reason that people from this fandom go, "If you've seen Banana Fish's ending, then you can handle whatever angsty show you're watching now." ~ or something to that effect. Another thing we like to say in this fandom is, "Other fandoms: Let's write a Mafia AU! Banana Fish fandom: We are the Mafia AU." Yes, all of us in this fandom is dramatic af.

Yuuri x Viktor - Yuuri!!! on Ice

Uh, does this really need an explanation? Aside from the fact that you will surprisingly find a lot of Mafia AUs here because we all know that hiding behind that beautiful face of Viktor Nikiforov is a devil capable of... tearing down your self-confidence, like WTF Viktor, don't make Yuuri cry! Also, their dance together at the end, such beautiful love.

Magnus Bane x Alec Lightwood aka Malec - Shadowhunters

I never read the books and have no plans to in the near future. I just saw a video on Youtube about why Malec is life and now here I am, still reading some Malec fics from time to time.

Some stuff on the show were WTF but overall they were a really good couple who supported each other. Plus, they're a Power Couple.

Erwin x Levi aka Eruri - Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Not to be confused with Ereri, which is Eren x Levi, which I don't generally ship except for that one time when a writer wrote an epic fanfic series with Eren in his mid 20s and Levi in his late 20s/early 30s, reincarnation AU. Boy was that one a surprise. I did not expect that.

Anyway, I'm an Eruri fan through and through. Especially with that promise that Levi made to Erwin. And the reason he gave the serum to Armin. HE DIDN'T DO IT FOR THE KIDS YKNOW. HE DID IT FOR ERWIN. Plus, Levi, Erwin, and Hange are my special trio. Erwin's batch was really amazing.

Also, I really like the fact that the shorter and slighter person is the more badass fighter while the taller, bigger one is the more calculating and strategic one. Rocks the boat of stereotypes and all that. Bonus: how these two met. My god, what a meet-cute! 😂

Dani x Jamie aka The Au Pair and the Gardener - The Haunting of Bly Manor

It really is more of a love story than a ghost story. I dunno how to feel about this. I loved these two characters so much and I wished they had a better ending but I wasn't SO surprised because it was a horror series (Like, I was still hoping at the end that they'd be together forever but yknow...). In any case, Jamie was just awesome. And her nickname for Dani? Poppins?! God, what a lover and fighter. She was not afraid to cock a gun in a ghost's face.

... and now for my flexible BROTPs

Merlin x Arthur aka Merthur - BBC Merlin

Yeah, my brain is so chaotic multiple OTPs and BROTPs of the same pairing exist at the same time without clashing with one another or having major identity crises.

I actually really like BROTP Merlin and Arthur and also like reading OTP Merthur.

And when Merlin is paired with Morgana or Freya or sometimes even Gwaine, that's fine with me too. As long as his bromance with Arthur stays intact, because that's what drew me to the show in the first place. Personal preference. I see them as platonic soulmates.

*Shout-out to the Merthur writers though, you kept me sane during my "Post-Merlin Depression," which is actually a term thrown around in the fandom because of that horrid final season (not saying it's a good term but it's what it was called). A lot of amazing fics here, too, both Magic Reveal and Modern AU ones. Full of action and adventure too! I mean, there are boy-band-looking Knights and magic-wielding badasses!

Tim Drake x Conner Kent/Kon-El aka Red Robin x Super Boy - DC Comics

More like flexible otp. I dig Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake BUT I really really also dig Tim Drake and Conner Kent. When they're TimKon, it's like an entirely different entity from TimSteph. Ugh, hard to explain.

I mean, Kon telling Tim, "You'll always be my Robin" and Tim telling Kon, "And you'll always be my clone boy" is the shit. Also when Kon could pick out/recognize Tim's heartbeat. And when Tim nearly went mad scientist trying to bring his bestie back. Like, dudes, wtf. And at the same time, hell yeah.

Liu Kang x Kung Lao aka LiuLao - Mortal Kombat

- I see these two as more like ride or die best friends connected by fate/platonic soulmates. But also like their dynamic is so awesome, cute, sweet, badass, can't-live-without-you vibes.

Basically the same way I feel about Merthur. I like reading both romantic and platonic relationships between these two characters. Like, the LiuLao fan creators peeling off the layers of this relationship and exposing every raw nerve is beautiful.

They love diving into the characters' psyche, emotions, motivations, fears, and doubts and you get really amazed because... Aren't they just characters from a video game, you ask? Well yeah, but MK video game has several interesting storylines and the Mortal Kombat 2021 movie was just the perfect jumpstarter to this beautiful blaze.

I mean, "We swore that if we were to die, it would be together"? Hell no, you're not dropping that on us and not expecting us to create our very own spin-offs and 12-page essays on that shit. That's what we fans do, baby. And also, really, we need a shaolin monks/white lotus spin-off/prequel. We're starving here.

As this ship is the newest one on my list, it's the one I'm looking forward to the most. Not enough fan content, I tell you. Not enough. One of these days, I just might add my own.

But right now, it's past 1 and so I shall attempt to sleep.

***No images for TimKon and LiuLao coz apparently I've gone past my 10-images allowance 😤

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izanagifortune · 1 year ago

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Rumor is that there have been sightings over the many years of nine flying horses in the sky… but the catch is none of these horses have wings! Additionally, these creatures are purportedly quite elusive and only appear one night every year. Could they even be real? Most people used to write them off as just a mere fairy tale, but as everyone prepares for impending trouble, some are desperate to get their hands on magical creatures by any means necessary. Some wish to sell it to help stock up in other places, others want to conquer one as their own mount to have an upper-hand in battle. No matter the motivation, the hunt for the mythical has become real, and the bounties have been set. Whether in the sky or on the ground, it’s near impossible to avoid these zealous searches, and if you happen to own a wingless horse, you may very well find yourself on the unfortunate end of one of these hunts… [Grants Flying +1]

Izana was never one to turn down a juicy rumor. It's not like he had anything better to do with his day than gossip anyway. (Just because some monks got to leave the cathedral to do other things during their work hours didn't mean that he did. This was unfair imprisonment! Let him out!!!)

So it was no surprise really, that rumours of flying horses (Without wings! Yeah, he knows, he was shocked too!) made their way up to his little corner of the cathedral. He had laughed it off at first, chalking it up to a little ridiculous fun. I mean! Who had ever heard of a horse being able to fly without wings before? It was like telling someone that Izana was totally not amazing! As in: totally untrue!

But wouldn't you know it? Turned out that these things were real after all. Imagine his surprise! Now, he only knew this from the friend of a friend of a student who had sought his advice, but the word was that one of these mystical non-flying flying horses had been found and was currently being sold on the black market. (Student's name redacted for their safety! Because Izana wasn't about exposing someone like that! 😉)

"Hey Mister Izana! There's a lady here who wants to talk to you! She was asking around about the auction and I told her that you would definitely know something about it. Go on! Tell her!"

Izana's head perks up from where he had been taking a (totally not on company time) little cat nap on one of the pews, instantly leaping over it to get a good look at who this woman seeking him out was.

"Of course! I mean, I have one condition for telling you about it: take me with you!! Please! My beauty is wasted languishing around all day here in this dusty old cathedral!"

@philialdevotion

Garreg Mach's Hottest Gossip: Flying Horses (Hold the Wings) on the Market

Flying +1 | Fracture

#ic #ic: it wouldn't be a party without you kid #threading: it's a funny old world isn't it #thread: garreg mach's hottest gossip #supports: we were destined to be together. i'm not even making that up!#support: phila #mission board: fractured #mission board: i'll try anything once #flying +1

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valhallasubstitute · 5 years ago

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In Times of Celebration...

Osferth x reader

Prompt #13 – ‘There was only one bed’

It’s not every day that the future King turns seven. Edward invites Uhtred and company to join the celebration in Wessex, but you and Osferth arrive later than expected. Due to your late arrival the ale house has only one room available…and that room only has one bed…

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, unprotected sex – it’s the ninth century they have an excuse, you don’t. fluff

A/N: My first celebration request done! This is my first time writing Osferth, so I apologize if it’s a little OOC, like Sihtric, his lack of lines haunts me :/

Anyways I’m gonna write the requests in the order they were submitted in so if yours doesn’t pop up as quick as you expected then don’t stress cause you’re on the list and I love you all equally

WC: 2476 - this is ridiculously long, I wanted to set the scene and then got carried away whoops

Tags: @bebbanburgsflame - thank you my love for the request, @flowers-in-your-hayr

It was late when you arrived in Winchester, but the usually dark streets were filled with candlelight and laughter. The future king was turning seven the next day and evidently the best way to celebrate was to grab yourself a cup of ale in one hand and a pretty girl in the other.

Osferth’s hand was on your lower back as you weaved your way through the packed streets, guiding you gently as he smiled at the drunk passers-by, knowing all too well that the rest of your friends would be exactly the same.

The tavern was heaving with people and your good spirits were starting to dwindle. It had been a long ride; your horse was newly broken and while beautiful she was difficult and Uhtred had lost patience with both of your attitude’s. The others had ridden on while Osferth had stayed behind with you. You had ended up swapping horses and how well your horse behaved for the gentle monk had grated on you, but you couldn’t really blame her.

But you could blame Osferth for having the most uncomfortable saddle to ever grace Gods green earth. All you wanted to do was collapse on to the nearest bed and dream away the ache of the ride, but first you had to pay for the room.

The owner was a difficult man to find but his smile was wide and offered the room at half price. You began to protest but he insisted.

‘The healers assure me that my wife is to give birth tomorrow, praise Him. I believe it to be a good sign that he should share a birthday with the future king of Wessex – why should I not share my happiness with you?’

‘Do you hear that Y/N? Praise him indeed.’ Osferth’s smile was infectious, and you couldn’t help but share in his joy.

‘Thank you for your kindness.’

Your gratitude quickly faded as you walked into the room, it was modest, and the bed looked like heaven but there was only one filling the room. Turning to Osferth with a startled expression you expected him to turn on his heels, ready to ask for another room right along with you but he just shrugged and took your bag inside.

‘Osferth what are you doing?’

‘Unpacking?’

‘But- ‘

‘I know but we should be grateful we even got a room.’ He beckoned you, a reassuring smile on his face. You wanted nothing more than to rid him of the look. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share a bed with him, rather it was a problem that you did. And here he was, smiling at you like it was perfectly fine. Of course you had slept beside each other before, your furs being laid next to each other when you were on the road or napping by the river side by side when at home but you had never shared a bed with him, under the covers, layers of clothes removed… You fought quickly to hide the blush that threatened to out you.

‘I will sleep on the floor; you can have the bed.’

‘You cannot sleep on the floor Y/N.’

‘Then we should ask for another room- ‘

‘There are no other rooms.’ He was laughing at you quietly, his amusement was gentle and light, never pushing you too far. ‘And besides, I do not believe it was such a reach to think us together.’

You threw a pillow at him in an attempt to hide the deep red that was rapidly spreading across your body. He caught it with one hand, a light dusting of pink appearing on his own cheeks.

‘Are you going to help me unpack?’ you shook your head with a grin, settling back into the soft linen. Osferth rolled his eyes but quickly resumed the task at hand. With his back turned you took the opportunity to admire him.

You were surrounded by beautiful people constantly. Your Lord and the men that served him always made the scenery just that much prettier but there was something about the baby monk that had gripped you body and soul. Under all those robes and armour, you knew laid a warrior’s body. To assume otherwise would be a mistake, one you would not make twice.

It took him a while when you first met for him to look you in the eye but when he finally did you were lost in a soft world of blue. Combine that with a jawline that could cut sharper than your sword and you were all in from the very beginning.

And then he grew into himself. You watched along with the others as he stood a little taller, spoke a little louder, held your gaze for as long as you could manage. Boy to man, lamb to wolf, friend to fantasy.

You were so lost in the idea of him that you barely noticed him removing his armour in front of your very eyes until the leather hit the ground. You were transfixed as the layers of clothes were placed on a stool, and milky skin was revealed.

There were hardly any scars, save the large one on his abdomen. He was slighter than the others, but the muscle rippled as he moved regardless, his strength was as quiet as the rest of him but in its silence, it screamed the truth.

You watched as he leant down and undid the laces of his boots. His hands were a frequent visitor in your thoughts. They were calloused from hard work and a hard life, but they held your soup bowl when you were ill, despite the fact it burned him a little. They guided you through packed crowds, keeping you safe and in sight. And when his fingers brushed against your own it felt like God had put him on this earth to make you feel alive.

As he approached the bed, dressed in breeches alone, you found yourself flustered, your thighs clenching together on their own accord.

‘What- why are you undressed?’

‘I do not wish to sleep in my armour Y/N, we’re not on the road and we’re here to enjoy the celebration. If it offends you then I can re dress?’

‘No. I- You’re right.’ You nodded your head as you said it, convincing yourself that he was right and ignoring the pit in your stomach as you removed yourself from the bed.

You started with your boots, kicking them to the side of the room. You had none of the finesse that Osferth had, not when you could feel his eyes on you. Glancing at him every now and again as you removed your weapons you could see him watching you through thick lashes. He had more subtlety than other men, but the intention was the same.

The thought sent tiny sparks through your body, and the colour of his face brought you a little satisfaction. Despite your best efforts his eyes made you clumsy, the knot of your armour unyielding against your fumbling fingers.

You turned yourself away from him, a half-arsed attempt to hide the affect the situation was having on you. You didn’t even hear him coming up behind you and the feel of his hand covering yours made you jump. Your hand dropped to your side like a stone does when thrown into a river and Osferth’s breath fanned against the back of your neck.

His hands made quick work of what yours could not and before you knew it you were lifting your arms, letting the man behind you remove the armour completely. The two of you stood there, your back to his chest, heat radiating off each other and your breath coming out in quick puffs. You turned to him with downcast eyes.

The cross that sat on his chest snapped you out of the lust that coursed through your veins. God did you want this, but you pushed yourself away with a murmur of thanks. He was your friend and a man of God. And despite being a warrior of Uhtred’s your nerve evaporated.

The candles were blown out and your body stiffened as the bed dipped as Osferth climbed in. You could still feel him, his proximity making sleep impossible.

While your body lay perfectly still your mind tossed and turned – you had seen the desire in his eyes, felt his breath coming out quick and hot against you. He had made no move to push you and you had stepped back. But what if you hadn’t?

You rolled over, expecting to be greeted with his back but instead you were met by his face. He looked at peace, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Your intention was not to wake him, but the light tracing of his face stirred him, his hand moving in a flash and long fingers coming to grip your wrist.

‘I shouldn’t have pulled away…’ Your voice was barely a whisper, but his eyes were fixed on you. His grip eased on your wrist and his touch moved from your arm to your waist, squeezing gently.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room and the single thin layer of fabric that separated you from Osferth felt like entirely too much.

You sat up and Osferth followed, confusion evident on his sharp face.

‘Y/N what are you doing?’

Your hand gripped the bottom of your tunic and pulled it over your head before your courage was lost to the night. The air nipped at your skin, your nipples hardening with the ghost touch. Osferth’s eyes were everywhere, desire mixing with the confusion as you crawled towards him.

‘What I should have done.’

He reached for you tentatively, his hands cupping your face and bringing his lips to yours. They were soft and gentle, his tongue parting your lips in exploration.

The taste of him was intoxicating and you climbed into his lap in seek of some relief.

Your hands went from the slopes of his shoulders to the rim of his breeches. He tugged himself free and a blush spread from his chest up to the tops of his ears. The sight of him did not disappoint, his cock stood proud and was already leaking precum.

You had been with other men, but none quite had this effect on you, the want, the arousal, it was all him. The sight of him in such a state pulled a moan from your lips and another wave of wetness to pool between your thighs.

The rest of your clothes were removed, and you lay bare before the monk, your back arched as his hands slowly explored all there was to touch. His touch was feather light, leaving goose bumps in his wake. His lips followed his fingertips and as he tweaked one nipple, he took the other into his mouth, humming as you moaned.

He circled it with his tongue, letting his teeth graze it as he pulled away. Leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses he moved his attention to the other breast, his free hand slowly making its way south.

His name was pulled from your lips in a whine, the pressure of his thumb circling your clit exactly what you needed. His knuckles grazed against your entrance and you could feel him smile against your skin.

Needing to ground yourself there was no better anchor than his member, you could feel it sitting against your thigh. It felt like velvet to touch and the way his breath hitched made your body tingle with anticipation.

The way you held him left Osferth breathless, his own rhythm lost in the way you stroked him. You could feel it, still pumping him you guided him to your entrance.

Unable to censor yourself you gasped at his size. He lingered, teasing you with both his body and smile. His lips melted against yours as he entered you, hot breath fanning your face as gasps and moans filled the room.

Like everything else surrounding you, Osferth was gentle. His pace was steady and his thrusts deep, your fingers lacing together as you pulled him closer, your heels digging into his thighs.

While he used his free arm to prop himself up, you used yours to caress his face, pushing away the strands of blond hair that obscured your view of his pleasure.

You could feel yourself growing closer, relishing in the way he breathed your name as you clenched around him. Releasing your hand, he slipped his own between your bodies finding that sweet spot once more.

Your orgasm creeped up on you slowly, your back arching and your chest brushing against his as you called out, your cries of bliss mixing with the celebrations still raging on below.

Osferth’s own release came quickly after, a soft moan interrupting your panting, his brow creased and mouth silently begging to be kissed.

As you came down from your high Osferth pulled you to him, your limbs tangled as you faced each other, the smiles on your faces couldn’t be hidden, but neither of you had any desire to do so.

‘This may be forward Y/N-‘Your laugh interrupted him, your eyes wide and filled with amused exasperation as you gestured to your naked bodies.

‘I think we’re past forward, Osferth.’ His laugh was soft, and you watched as pink creeped into his complexion once more.

‘You are far more than a friend and I thank God for you, I do not wish to be without you.’

‘After tonight, you do not have to be.’

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The future king of Wessex was paraded through the hall, the priests that proceeded him unable to keep him in check but the atmosphere in the room was one of happiness and good humour.

If anyone were to look over at you, they would think you were overjoyed, the smile on your face rivaled that of the Queen. In reality your hand was slotted with Osferth’s, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckle.

You could feel Finan’s eyeing the two of you, but you could not find it in you to care. You watched as the Irishman lean into Uhtred ear, his voice just high enough to hear above the chanting.

‘I think it’ll be a marriage we’ll be celebrating next.’ You blushed as your Lords eyes fell to you, but Osferth seemed to beam at them, his hand squeezing yours. When he spoke, his voice was as happy as you had ever heard it.

‘I wouldn’t be surprised either Finan.’

You didn’t know what filled you with more excitement at that moment - the fact that he wanted to marry you or that you got to show him just how willing you were when you returned to your shared bed.

#the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #osferth #osferth x reader #osferth smut #osferth fluff #inga writes #100 followers celebration

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t0tallyspine · 4 years ago

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My Zablr self-insert cause that's a thing, apparently.

Spine didn't know what to expect from the mysterious syndicate. She heard stories, of course - who didn't? - about a place frozen in time and hidden in snow from the overly curious eyes. Many rumors ran rampant about it all across the country: of cannibals inhabiting the caves deep inside, waiting for a new prey to stumble upon the entrance to help them meet an untimely demise; of vultures, feasting on the flesh of those unfortunate enough to not find the exit before it was too late; of labyrinths and deep, frightening corridors.

But Spine always knew better - a temple far away in the woods where she hid away as a child when her peers became too much was inhabited by a kind-hearted monk. He visited the syndicate once in the past while still young told her magical stories about a place where everyone gets to speak their mind, a place of heavenly beauty, about the people that chose to reside there. She grew up on legends about wise philosophers, talented artists, writers who became masters of their craft and lost souls, just like her, who found peace in the cold of the mountain caves.

She smiled as she stood near her old friend's grave, the halo on her head shining brighter than ever.

"I'm going to find Zablr, whatever it takes. One day I'll return to tell you all about it. Sleep well."

And with that she took the only valuables she possessed: her mother's sword and a cape worn out long before she was born, and started her journey across the land. For months, Spine searched, until one day she stumbled onto a small village at a base of a highest mountain she'd ever seen, and decided to stay there for some time to rest before continuing on her mission.

She found a nice tavern and after asking a bartender for a room, she sat at the nearest table. The tavern was full so the table was already occupied. A beautiful stranger with sharp ears, long brown hair and feathers adorning her frame nodded and smiled in greeting. Spine smiled shyly in return: she wasn't used to meeting people unless absolutely necessary, and although the long journey made her better at talking, that didn't mean she wasn't still nervous.

"Hello there. I haven't seen you around, are you new?"

"Hello! Yes, I've just arrived but will be leaving soon. Just stopped to rest."

The stranger raised her eyebrows in curiosity and asked, "So you're a traveler? Do you have a destination in mind?"

Spine was usually the one to ask questions, but it would be a waste of opportunity if she didn't try and get more information.

"I do, actually. Have you heard of the Zablr syndicate? My friend told me many stories of it, and I wanted to see it for myself."

The stranger's eyes lit up and her smile grew wider and somehow more conspirational. The traveler wasn't very good at reading emotions, so she hardly could say for certain, but she would say the stranger seemed excited.

"Then you've come to the right place. Did you see the mountain outside?"

That was a rhetorical question, since the mountain was giant and impossible to miss, but Spine nodded anyway.

"That's the place you're looking for. I can walk with you there in the morning, if you'd like."

The traveler's mouth opened in disbelief. Was this a joke? Or was it true, and her journey was finally coming to its end?

"What's your name?" the stranger asked, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and revealing a feather of some exotic bird glued to her earring.

"It's Spine," the girl replied shortly.

"Well, nice to meet you, Spine! I have many names, but you can call me Aelyn. When do you want to go to the mountain?"

"Now," Spine answered, not wanting to lose a minute now that she was so close to the residence of her dreams.

"I see you really want to get inside. But if you're sure..."

Aelyn rose from her sit, threw a couple of coins on the table in payment for her dinner and grabbed her bag off the chair's back.

"We better start walking. The way up is long."

And long it was, indeed, as well as dangerous - the roads were slippery, the snow obscured vision and Spine couldn't stop shivering and cursing the cold wind blowing right into her face. But all of it was worth it when Aelyn took off her earring and put the feather in a niche in a cave wall. The wall rose soundlessly, like it was weightless, and revealed a long dimly lit hallway. It was warm inside, but Spine forgot to be happy about it: she looked around in awe as her guide led her down the corridor.

Various gorgeous pictures were hanging on the stone walls, and Spine wondered if they were painted by the inhabitants of the mountain, her anticipation and joy palpable in the way her hands were flapping, and the halo on her head growing lighter or darker every couple of seconds.

Finally, at the end of the hall, they stopped. In front of them was a big masterfully painted door, which Aelyn opened with ease.

As soon as the room behind was visible, Spine saw a table full of people, none of whom were sitting at it properly. The first thing she heard as she entered was a desperate cry:

"No, Philza wasn't a dilf!"

#i spent too lomg on this but it was fun so its fine #zablr #writing #Zablr Syndicate AU

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gaangadventures · 5 years ago

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Soulmates

Part One / Part Two

Feel free to request if you want!

You had hardly been able to sleep on the bison’s saddle, and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was because you were used to sleeping on an actual bed, or because of the distrusting looks you kept getting. Which was fair you thought, your brother happened to throw their grandmother after rudely grabbing her and then terrified their village.

Although, you couldn’t exactly say you knew why they hated the Fire Nation so much, not by every detail at least. You managed to hear a little bit of truth from your uncle when your brother was too busy either skulking or dramatically burning things.

But maybe you just liked to hear stories, turning your gaze to the sun rising in the sky. Like a true firebender you thought, crossing your legs and placing your wrists on your knees while you closed your eyes.

Meditating while flying in the air was certainly something, you almost wanted to ask for another ride on his glider. That had been fun, but you couldn’t say that you wanted to because like almost everyone you were related to, you had a bit of an issue with your pride.

Waiting until everyone was awake to open your eyes wasn’t all that difficult, as you had been more focused on meditating and the sun was always helpful in that regard.

They were already lowering down to the ground when you opened your eyes, the light making it seem like it was a new place. But you had already seen it before, a few months before your brother had come across the water tribe and the avatar himself.

“Wait ‘til you see it Katara, the air temple is one of the most beautiful places in the world.” You held back a wince at his optimism, not having wanted to say anything and end up hurting him.

“Aang, I know you’re excited, it’s been a few hundred years since you’ve been home.” Katara tried to say, only for said avatar to get even more excited about returning.

“That’s why I’m so excited!”

“It’s just that a lot can change in that time.”

:”I know, but I need to see it for myself.” He added, and you only looked down at your hands as Aang hopped off of Appa after tying off the reins, you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was doing.

“Wake up Sokka, air temple here we come!” He exclaimed, leaning over the older boy who was still lying on the ground, all bundled up in the sleeping bag?

“Sleep now. Temple later.” He responded, before turning around and immediately beginning to snore. Aang practically lit up like a light bulb when he suddenly got an idea, getting a mischievous smile on his face, before picking up a stick and lightly drew it along Sokka’s sleeping bag.

“Sokka, wake up! There’s a prickle snake in your sleeping bag!” He called out,

“Ahhh! Get it off! Get it off! Ahh!” The water tribe boy was quick to get up, jumping around inside of his sleeping bag before promptly falling face-forward. You tried to hide your snickers while his sister and Aang had no qualms about it.

“Great, you’re awake, let’s go.” He had said, and the four of you were back to flying on Appa after camping for the night.

Hearing a surprisingly loud stomach growl, you’d been surprised to learn that it hadn’t been you.

“Hey, stomach, be quiet, alright? I’m trying to find us some food.” You heard from Sokka, and you briefly glanced at him, unsure of whether or not you should give him some advice on hunger, but you assumed that he would probably not like that.

So you chose not to say anything this time. After all, you had gone hungry more times than you could count on both hands. Who would have wanted a princess who ate too much anyway? When you were younger, you used to sneak into the kitchen to get more food, but you made sure to eat it in your brother’s room since you would’ve gotten in trouble if they knew it was you.

“Hey! Who ate all my blubbered seal jerky?” He ended up asking, after searching through his pack and finding nothing. You would’ve shared yours, if you had enough time to grab anything when you left.

“Oh, that was food? I used it to start the campfire last night. Sorry.” Aang admitted, looking back at his friend, although your gaze was back on the cloud, only half-way paying attention.

“You what? Aww. No wonder the flames smelled so good.” Sokka muttered, and you bit your tongue as your own stomach growled.

“The Potola mountain range! We’re almost there!” The avatar exclaimed, finally drawing your attention.

“Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.” Katara started, and you avoided looking anywhere but the two talking.

“What about them?”

“Well, i just want you to be prepared. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could’ve done the same to your people.” With that, you couldn’t help but wince, and you agreed. You couldn’t help but look at your shoulder when she spoke, you could have sworn you saw a spark of yellow coming from your hand.

Looking down at your hands, you let out a breath of relief when you saw that it wasn’t lightning like you feared, but fire still.

“Just because no one has seen an airbender doesn’t mean the Fire Nation killed them all.” How was he still so optimistic? You knew that it was clear that the Fire Nation had ruined lives, families, and more that you probably didn’t know about.

“No, she has a point.” You added quietly, not having expected anyone to really hear you speak but it caught more attention than you meant.

“They probably escaped.” He continued, his gaze moving from the sky back to Katara.

“I know it’s hard to accept.” She started,

“You don’t understand Katara, the only way to get to an airbender temple is on a flying bison. And I doubt the Fire Nation has any flying bison. Right, Appa?” he asked, petting him and he started to fly around a mountain.

You blinked for a moment, not wanting to show how vulnerable you really were at this point. Here you were, on a flying bison of all things, you had no clue where you were and you were starting to really regret sneaking out of the map-reading classes you had before.

Holding on tight to the saddle, you started to go up higher through the mountain and above a forest, only to see the temple.

“There it is, the Southern Air Temple.”

“Aang, it’s amazing!”

“We’re home, buddy. We’re home.”

Truth be told, you were hardly paying any attention. You hadn’t been since you realized that this was your soulmate’s home and your nation had killed his people. You may not have been the one to order it, but it was your family. Were the spirits losing it? Why would they have matched the two of you up?

With that thought, you hesitated in getting off of Appa when he had landed on the ground. You had heard of people having different soulmates in a book you read once, so were you his? You already knew that he was yours.

You were grateful for a moment that they hadn’t particularly wanted to talk to you, or your quietness probably would’ve been mentioned already.

“So where do I get something to eat?”

“You’re lucky enough to be one of the first outsiders to ever visit an airbender temple, and all you can think about is food?”

“I’m just a simple guy with simple needs.” Listening to the two siblings talk had made you miss your own, but you certainly hadn’t missed the expectations that came with either one.

“So that’s where my friends and I would play airball, and over there is where the bison would sleep.” Aang had said, pointing out to each place when you and the water tribe siblings had caught up with him. He let out a sigh, dropping his hands as if he was beginning to realize something.

“Aang, what’s wrong?”

“This place used to be full of monks and lemurs, and bison. Now there’s just a bunch of weeds. I can’t believe how much things have changed.” He finished, looking over the short cliff, before turning to look at the three of you.

“So uh, this airball game--how do you play?” Sokka asked, walking a bit closer to the edge of the cliff where the monk was. Was this going to be a fair game? Probably not, but you were hoping to see the water tribe boy lose anyway. With that simple question, he brightened and then the two had gotten onto the odd poles, each on the opposite sides.

Aang began by making an airball and kicking it at an angle, only for it to ricochet between the poles and hit the older boy in his chest, knocking him off of it entirely.

“Aang 7, Sokka 0.” He laughed, making the numbers with his arms, a grin already on his face. As you tried to figure out how exactly the game was played, you hardly noticed what the nonbender was muttering.

“Hey Aang? What are the rules in this game?” You couldn’t help but ask. There were rules in everything, and this would most likely be no exception.

“There are no rules in airball! You just make an airball and get it through the hoop while the other person tries to stop it!” He had said, throwing you for a loop and the confusion must’ve been obvious on your face when he spoke again. “Here, I’ll show you!”

Making another airball wasn’t difficult at all in his case, but physically impossible in yours. Standing where Sokka had been was a little daunting, not that you would admit that, and you were about to hold your hands out to stop the airball, but you couldn’t bring fire to this place. Not when so many firebenders themselves had wreaked havoc here. You wouldn’t put yourself among them either.

“Aang, there’s something you need to see.” Katara had called out, and the two of you had started to head over there, Aang still playing with the airball.

“What is it?” Knowing what the topic had been before, you had a suspicion of what it was but you weren’t going to mention it. But before he could see anything, the waterbender had moved the snow only for it to land on her brother.

“Uhh, just a new waterbending move I learned.” You leaned forward to help the older boy with the snow, since as a firebender you could definitely do that, but he shrugged you off and you hadn’t attempted again.

“Nice one. But enough practicing. We have a whole temple to see.” Aang had said, already walking away from you three.

“You know, you can’t protect him forever.” Sokka was still brushing the snow off, and you couldn’t help but think that they were ignoring you. But with that thought, you had received a sideways glance from Katara and an attempted glare from Sokka. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the glare, you knew they had every right to not trust you and the like, but you had seen and gave better glares than that.

“Katara, firebenders were here. You can’t pretend they weren’t.” Only halfway listening to the siblings, you started to walk away and towards the fountain, barely catching a glimpse of Aang as he ran around.

You hardly remembered much about the temples or the three-year trip around the nations themselves, as you had still been recovering from your burns when your brother decided that he hadn’t needed you and by the time you had recovered, you wanted nothing to do with the Fire Nation.

Placing your hand onto the stone fountain, you could already see quite a bit of the snow melting around you, only for you to quickly take your hand off when you started to see steam. You had been losing most of your control with your firebending when you became upset, but that hardly ever showed when you weren’t.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost started to panic when you realized that the water tribe siblings were walking away until you had heard Aang call out to them, assuming that he had meant only them after all.

“Hey guys! I want you to meet somebody!” But at the exclamation, you couldn’t help but follow after them anyway.

“Who’s that?” Katara had been the first to ask, once they noticed Aang pointing to an old statue of an old man.

“Monk Gyatso. The greatest airbender in the world.” He answered, turning to face the statue instead of his friends, only to turn back to them, gesturing to the statue. “He taught me everything I know.” Giving a bow to the statue itself mere moments after your soulmate had, you were saddened to see the run-down state of the statue

“You must miss him.” Was she always this motherly? You almost wanted to point it out, but you knew she had the ability to beat you in a battle and you were not willing to risk your life yet.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you going?”

“The Air Temple Sanctuary. There’s someone I’m ready to meet.” Who could be still alive long enough to meet him? No one, they wouldn’t be. Not after a hundred years, not to mention a literal genocide.

Following the avatar in the temple was an easy decision of yours, you had wanted to see it for yourself after your brother had mentioned it so many times anyway.

“But, Aang, no one could have survived in there for a hundred years.” The waterbender brought up, you agreed with her much to her dislike.

“Maybe they never did.” You added, slightly unsure of yourself upon seeing the trumpet-looking contraption at the door. How were any of you supposed to open that?

“It’s not impossible.” Aang spoke up, as the group had stopped before the large door. “I survived in the iceberg for that long.”

“Good point.”

“But you’re also the avatar.” You added, almost wanting him to stop being so optimistic for five seconds.

“Katara, Y/N, whoever’s in there might help me figure out this avatar thing.”

“And whoever’s in there might have a medley of delicious cured meats.” Running at the door, he had not made it through like he hoped, landing on the floor with an “oof.” He tried to push it open even after that though, and you almost wanted to laugh. “I don’t suppose you have a key.”

“It looks like it needs more than a key.” You looked at the door, thinking that maybe air had something to do with it, and your thought was proven correct when the airbender spoke up.

“The key, Sokka, is airbending.” He took a deep breath and gestured his hands to the door, air blowing into it, making the blue shells on it turn and show the other side. The doors began to open with ease, showing a room filled with statues as far you could see.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Aang was the first one to walk inside, with the three of you lagging a bit behind, and you were a bit ahead of the two siblings. You hadn’t wanted to intrude on really any of this, but you had read more than you had thought about the avatars, probably because of your brother.

With that thought, you immediately frowned, having hoped for the three of you to reconnect but now, you were sure there was no chance of that for at least a while, considering your brother was most likely calling you a traitor for what you did and your sister, well, she was still in the palace with your father and it was the last place you had wanted her. If he hurt you and Zuko, who’s to say he wouldn’t hurt her?

“Statues? That’s it? Where’s the meat?” Shaking your head ever so slightly, you turned your attention to the older boy complaining of no food and you felt your eye twitch but you bit your tongue.

“Who are all these people?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels like I know them somehow.”

“They’re avatars.” You interrupted, only recognizing a few from what you had read about them, stepping towards a firebender while Aang and Katara pointed out airbenders and waterbenders, each to their respective element of course.

Leaving them be for a few moments, you began to follow the pattern of avatars across the room. Fire, air, water, earth. It took you a bit longer than you would’ve preferred, but you managed to find the last avatar.

You glanced over when you heard footsteps coming towards you, seeing Aang as he looked up at the statue. You had been expecting for him to say something, but you noticed that he was practically entranced into staring up at the avatar before him.

“Aang!” You had spoken up, beginning to shake him and you were grateful that you hadn’t had to shake him for long. “Who is that?” When you asked it, you hadn’t been expecting an answer.

“That’s avatar Roku, the avatar before me.” He clarified, and you realized why he had looked somewhat familiar. You read about him, and that he’d been close to Sozin, your great grandfather. Close enough for him to give the crown prince ornament.

“You were a firebender? No wonder I didn’t trust you when we first met. Uh, no offense.” Sokka asked, as the two siblings grew closer to the last statue in the line.

“None taken.” You added, having heard worse but you mostly expected it.

“There’s no writing. How do you know his name?”

“I’m not sure. I just know it somehow.”

“You just couldn’t get any weirder.” The water tribe boy grunted out, and you sent a scowl for it, knowing that you might look more intimidating than your brother.

But the group went silent once you could hear light footsteps and almost instantly each one of you hid behind a statue. Katara and Sokka were behind the same one, as well as Aang and yourself.

“Firebender. Nobody make a sound.” Sokka had whispered, and you gulped. There could have been a few stragglers, and you knew that there would be a bounty on your own head, much like it was with your brother and uncle. You had all been considered traitors to your nation and banished.

“You’re making a sound.” Katara retorted, and you couldn’t help but snicker at the two siblings while the boys continued to shush you both.

“That firebender won’t know what hit him.” You frowned at his words, but you had felt a spike of fear when it had been brought up. Would they act like this towards you one day? You severely hoped not, they could be quite destructive if they wanted.

As each of you had poked your head out from behind the statues, you heard a chittering and you immediately softened, your heart rate going back to normal as well.

“Lemur!”

“Dinner.” The two boys had said in unison, causing you to look at the only other girl in the group with a mildly concerned look. This wasn’t going to go well, was it?

“Don’t listen to him. You’re gonna be my new pet.”

“Not if I get to him first!” Your thoughts had proven correctly when Sokka and Aang began to run after the lemur, practically scaring it to death.

“Wait! Come back!”

“I want to eat you!”

You could only roll your eyes, before beginning to follow after them. The lemur needed a way to escape after all.

“Hey! Come back! Come on out, little lemur. That hungry guy won’t bother you anymore.” Aang said, moving some old curtains out of his way. “Firebenders? They were here?” He murmured, before moving his gaze to see the skeleton of his old mentor. ”Gyatso.” With that realization, he dropped down onto his knees.

“Hey, Aang, you find my dinner yet?” Sokka asked, moving the curtain as well as you had hurried after them, nearly tumbling into the older boy himself. You had let out a quiet gasp when you saw the room filled with Fire Nation soldier skeletons and only one airbending skeleton. But what had you most concerned was your first friend crying.

“Aang, I wasn’t really gonna eat the lemur, okay?” You only shook your head, making your way towards him, stepping past Sokka as you did so. “Oh, man. C’mon Aang. Let’s get out of here.” Before you could say anything to help, Sokka had put his hand on the avatar’s shoulder and his arrows and eyes started glowing.

“Aang, come on!” He tried, but the wind grew worse, sending both of you flying into the remains of a wall. But you had never been one to give up, and he started to levitate in the air, so you had to try something a bit different.

“I know you’re upset, and nothing can replace Gyatso! It’s hard to lose the people you love. Monk Gyatso and the other airbenders may be gone, but you still have a family. Katara, Sokka, and I, we’re your family now.” You yelled out, hoping that at least some of it would get through to him. And it seemed like it had when the wind died down and he started to come back down.

“We aren’t gonna let anything happen to you. Promise.” Sokka had said when you were finished, the two of you holding his hands for a moment and the glow from him faded and he fell into your side.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You murmured, letting out a breath that you hadn’t even noticed you were holding. “It’s not your fault.”

“But you and Katara were right. And if firebenders found this temple, that means they found the other ones, too. I really am the last airbender.” You couldn’t help but just hug him. While you weren’t particularly keen on physical touch with anyone, he needed a hug and you happened to be the person that he was laying on.

When he was feeling a little better, the two of you headed back to the sanctuary while the two siblings started packing everything back up.

“How did you know what to say?”

“Well,” letting out a quiet laugh, you gave him a glance before continuing, “my mom disappeared when I was younger. Then more things happened, and I don’t think we have time for my whole life story.” What you said was true, you didn’t have much time before you would be leaving, but you were mostly looking for a way out of that conversation.

“Thanks, Y/N. But how is Roku supposed to help me if I can’t talk to him?”

“Maybe you’ll find a way.” You suggested, absolutely unsure of how that would happen. It’s not like they wrote instruction manuals on how to be the avatar, but in hindsight, maybe they should have.

“Everything is packed.” You heard Katara say, and quickly thanked her before hearing the same light footsteps from before, all of you turning to look at the lemur, only for it to drop food at Sokka’s feet.

“Looks like you made a new friend, Sokka.”

“Can’t talk. Must eat.” He spoke through a mouthful of food, and you almost laughed. If your father could see you now, he would’ve been so mad. But that wasn’t the case now. You weren’t Azula, and you spoke against him so perhaps he wouldn’t care at all. Regardless, you sorely hoped that he would be in for it, the next time you met.

“Hey, little guy.” Aang greeted the lemur that was now on his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but pet him. You always did have a soft spot for animals, and Appa was no exception.

“You, me, Appa--we’re all that’s left of this place. We have to stick together. Katara, Y/N, Sokka, say hello to the newest member of our family.”

“What are you gonna name him?” You asked, having been redoing your hair into two low braids and leaving it at that. Much different from having your hair up into a Fire Nation knot like you had been. With that question, the lemur had climbed onto you then Sokka, just to steal a moon peach an inch away from his mouth before scurrying back to Aang’s shoulders.

“Momo.” You couldn’t help but laugh along with them, finally beginning to feel like a part of the group instead of being just there like you had been for the start with them and the majority with your brother.

Maybe this could end well for you after all.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fanfic #atla fanfic #aang x reader #katara #sokka #zuko #azula #momo #appa #female reader

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