#as long as they didnt understand updrafts...

[cinnabunney]

[bloodycassian]

A new Hope

ACOTAR - Cassian x (no gender) reader. Reader is an Illyrian trying to better the future of their people. 

Cassian would not doubt that the world ending may be caused by Rhysand, once he learned of his newest relationship. Cauldron hope that Rhys would be able to explain it better than Cassian was to Rhys. 

“She has a great sense of fighting ability. Rhys listen - she’s just as much of an asset as Feyre is!” He shouted as Rhys walked away. 

“An asset or an ass you can look at Cass? I have tolerated quite a few of your less than admirable partners here but I will not have an Illyrian. The Three of us are enough as it is. Besides we dont even know what clan they’re from I wont-” Rhys paced at the top of the step, his anger building the more Cassian tried to persuade him. 

“Rhys just meet them! Meet them and you’ll understand.” Cassian’s voice was quiet at the end,  almost pleading. The high lord paused, glancing at his friend. Rhys had never known him to use that tone unless it was utterly serious. He weighed the risks in his mind. Deny his Army General a simple pleasure or risk losing valuable secrets about his home territory to possible enemy Illyrian clans? The choice was obvious in his mind, but Cassians’ persistence on the matter made him reconsider. 

Rhy’s sighed, his power draining from his taut muscles. He waved a hand at his friend. “If I feel even a glimmer of note taking in their mind I will -Cassian, I will wipe it clean.” His friend’s face lit up with gratitude. 

Cassian bound up the steps and clapped his high lord on the shoulder, his wings flaring with excitement. “You know not all us pure bred Illyrians are such lying assholes.” 

+

You knew that someone would have to winnow you. The experience itself was much much different than how anyone described it. It made flying to the balcony almost impossible. Your head swam in dark spots and stars that weren’t actually there. Cassian’s warm hands righted you before you tumbled over your own feet when hitting the landing. His strong corded arms wrapped protectively around your middle, making sure you were adjusted to your feet again. 

Your stomach rolled. Never from your entire life of flying had anything made you that woozy before. “I think I’m good now - lets just fly next time.” You breathed and nodded to Cassian for approval. It felt like your entire body had been squeezed into a hole and pulled out the other end. 

“I had the house make breakfast-” Mor chirped as she walked in from the stairs. Food appeared on the enormous table. You turned, and vomited over the side of the balcony. 

+

A few hours later, Cassian was beaming at you from across the table. All were laughing at a story he had just gotten done telling, and this place truly felt like a home for him. You could understand why he wanted so much better for you, for all the Illyrians. Better was possible, especially with such a forgiving high lord that was willing to help with ruling over the war camps. 

“Very charming dear boy, but I believe we were here to interview your new pet.” The tiny woman at the end of the table finally spoke. Her eyes shone of a strange silver white that you had never seen before, and she did not eat. She was unsettling, and the rest of the table quieted. Amren, was her own person in the most definitive way. Cassian had warned you of her. You cleared your throat.

“I believe we have enough open minded Illyrians to begin our own camp, a new group where there are no rites, and females are not clipped.” You had practiced it in your head over and over on the days leading up to your meeting with Rhysands inner circle. 

Cassian was grinning like a smug cat at the high lord and lady. Feyre could not hide her shock, and Mor took a long sip of her wine. Rhys leaned back in his chair, intrigued. “Wouldnt that mean a slaughter of these people? If the others found out. You would be painting a target on your back from the start.” No judgement, only pure questions and curiosity. 

“We are trained, and are willing to shed blood if it comes to it.” You stated, willing your voice not to quaver under his questions. You could feel the power in his mere presence alone, and did not want to see it in action. You took a breath before revealing what you had been hiding until this moment. You glanced toward Cassian, who nodded in encouragement. You rolled up one of the sleeves covering the back of your hand. “I am willing to lead them.” Your dark onyx siphon glinted in the light. Utter silence coated the room, shock echoing throughout. Amren’s mouth dropped - then began beaming at you.

You rolled up the other sleeve, revealing the siphon on the opposite hand. “I am willing to protect them. We just need your help.” You stared at the high lord, who’s eyes were wide and jaw clenched. You didnt want to know what that meant. There was a soft chuckle from behind you.

Azriel was smiling wide as he stood next to you, taking your hand. “Welcome to the club. No way Rhy’s is letting you go now.” 

+

“No winnowing. You can fly back with me or not, but I am going to vomit up that lovely dinner.” You pulled on your jacket, happy to be out of the hot seat at the table. So many questions from every angle besides Amren, who had just summoned a cup from the house and drained it. 

“You’ll have to get used to it sometime. Rhys’ seems very interested in you.” He nudged your shoulder lightly, his wings flaring out - as if to taste the night breeze. “And not at all grateful to me for finding you.” He grumbled. 

You rolled your eyes and stretched your arms, preparing for the long flight. You refused to stay the night, despite Feyre insisting. Nerves would probably make it impossible to sleep anyway. Not to mention the thought of sleeping in the same place as Cassian. He was… too tempting. 

“Maybe we stop and camp if you’re still not feeling great.” He started for the ledge, then in a swift stride disappeared into the darkness. You glanced behind to the empty, already cleaned dining room. Magic house, must be nice. You felt a twinge of sadness as you leapt from the balcony.

A howl of adrenaline ripped through the air as Cassian hit an updraft just before the outside of the Illyrian mountain range. His heart soared, the cold wind kissing his skin and making him feel the best kind of alive. You circled with him, the soft glow of the campfires below were warm, but not inviting. You knew those fires were lit for the ones without even tents to call a home. Shame crashed through you. 

Children of your kind, sleeping out in some of the most vicious winters that Prythian had to offer. It made you shudder. You had done all you could for the mothers of some of the children. For the ones willing for change. You knew that it was an uphill battle to create them a new home, but it would be worth it. It would pay off eventually. 

If it worked.

Cassian banked toward you and matched your speed, his powerful wings within touching distance of yours. There was a long moment of silence between you. The wind and the rasp of your wings against your clothes the only sounds. Your face stricken, you tried to force a smile at him. “You dont have to go back, you know. We can figure something else out if you don't want to stay at the House of Wind.” 

“What would that show my people?” You snapped back at him. The offer was kind, yes but Cassian might not know how bad certain camps had gotten. Especially the smaller ones. Males had begun usurping smaller villages and kicking children and females out of their own homes. That was on the good days, on the normal days there would be puddles of blood in the dirt roads the morning after the raid.

“I just mean maybe we should.. Stay out together?” Cassian trailed off. You felt your cheeks flush with color. “I mean if you want or if you dont its fine we can-” he started rambling as you descended together, landing just outside the flickering light of the village. 

“You mean the great Night Cout General wants to share a tent with a war camp Illyrian?” You teased, pulling your coat tighter against the cold. The wind on the ground seemed to whip more harshly after landings. As if it was punishing you for being in its way. 

Cassian boomed with laughter, “I havent heard of sharing a tent in years. I cant deny it is appealing.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. His dark hair curled around his neck, bringing out the color in his dark cheekbones. He stepped toward you, blocking the wind. “Youre appealing.” His voice dropped to little more than a growl, his eyes were dark glancing from your lips to your eyes. 

Your stomach flipped, tying knots up to your slamming heart. His wings flexed out, hands reaching for yours tentatively. The calluses on his palms were warm, and tough where a sword would lay. They matched his personality. You were ready for this. After looking at his full dark lips so long you were beyond studying the shape and curve of them. You were ready to see if they matched him as perfectly as his hands did. 

A high pitched whistle sounded through the camp. Cassian groaned, his hands tightening on yours. Your eyes widened as you spied the cause of the interruption. A band of males were circling a fire, a few of them with weapons. Some with nothing more than a few scraps of clothes. 

“Shit” You breathed, starting toward the group. You didnt know what you would do, but nothing would touch this village, the camp you worked so hard to preserve. You felt your siphons thrum with power. You would eviscerate them if they would not listen, you knew that much. You had hopes with this side of the village, that this would be more civilised than the south side where the fighting rings were. 

Cassian grabbed your wrist before you could get farther. “I will help. Show yourself to them. Let them feel fear of the siphons. If they dont listen I can.. I will help you.” His eyes hid nothing, icy rage filled them. 

You spun and kissed him, quickly. Quickly before he could pull you in, and get lost in the feeling of pure him. He faded to the shadows, the whisper of his wings the only thing telling you he was monitoring. Even facing a band of murder frenzied Illyrians, you could barely get the smile off your face.

[zehypocriticaloath]

Birds of a feather

Flicking his cigarette to the snow covered ground, he watched as the dying embers, glowing weakly at the end of the stick, sizzled against the cold, wet substance.

The snow was coming down heavy today. Reports were saying that it’d develop into a blizzard. There would be no scheduled skirmishes today. There would be no scheduled spars. There would be the guarantee that the machinations and machinery that comprised of the Respawn system would be far too cold and, potentially, be iced over. Engineers would be needed in order to chip away at the frostbitten gears, getting it back to snuff before it could be functional again. Which, in all likelihood, would be the next day. 

If the blizzard stopped by then.

Coldfront was known for its snowy days. After all, there wouldn’t be a Coldfront  with a bitter, cold front constantly threatening to assault it. But, based on the doctor’s recollection of weather and its patterns, a front was a change of air (in this case, cold), that clashed with air of the opposite temperature. In this case, cold against warm. The front was a rare skip in mother nature’s plans, abruptly changing the weather from one extreme to another, but only for a temporary amount of time.

So why the hell was Coldfront so cold, all the time?

The medical madman sat where he was on a snow dusted, overturned crate. He watched the poetically beautiful black forms, high up in the sky, dart and drift on chilly updrafts. They were dancers, drifting here and there between curtains of thickly falling snow. They were his companions, his friends; the wild, untamed corvids that he had befriended on his many walks and smoke breaks. They were his outside guardians, watching over him whenever he was outside.

He found comfort in those birds. They were cunning and intelligent. They got what they wanted, in any  way necessary. They were adaptable. They survived. And while most of society considered them to be of ill omen, he found them to be nothing but good luck. During most of his life he had been drawn to the sleek black birds that society all but shunned. He found them worthy to be in this world. More worthy, perhaps, than some humans that walked the earth, both in past and present tenses. 

But that was just his opinion.

As he fished around for another cigarette, he felt a strange heaviness in his lungs. A momentary pause to assess the situation, he just sat there, his chilled breath smothered up partially by the thick, warm scarf he wore. Was he getting sick? Was this just the cold, clear air of the alpines, stinging at his lungs with its purity? He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure. 

In this world, he was hardly sure of anything.

Except... for the unwanted intruders, locked in the prison of his mind. 

His mind was rambling today, as it usually did whenever he was waiting for his medication to take effect. The little pink pills that Dr. Hollow (that mouse of a man!) made did the trick to keep some of his symptoms at bay, but it wasn’t a cure.  Nothing was a cure. Nothing  could ever be a cure for his state of illness. His medication wasn’t a cure. The security of friends wasn’t a cure. The love given to him by others wasn’t a cure. All of these things... they could help  in giving him a sense of security, a pillar to cling to, but that’s all it was: a barricade to temporarily hold back his plight and allow him a moment or two to refocus on what was around him.

The medication did wonders in dulling his symptoms. The world wasn’t as loud. The colors didn’t pierce his skull. The world stayed still. He could breathe a little without delving into a fit of panic.

Rubbing his temples in agitation, he waited for the numbing of his mind, the quieting of the cacophonous shrieking and insults. He longed for a day when the world didn’t spin and the walls didn’t creep, like some writhing, loathsome thing living beneath the surface of his room. He desperately wanted the creeping clutches of paranoia to release him for just a moment-- just one moment -- so he could finally lower his guard and allow his battered mind and body to relax. But he was always on edge... and always tense. He was always expecting the worst and seeing the worst in everything around him. He was constantly fighting a war with his own mind, even when he was merely doing his paperwork (begrudgingly so, adding insult to injury).

Lately his mental illness hadn’t bothered him. Not as much as it had in the past, at least. His forced regime of taking his medication was, mostly, to be credited for this. That and the gentle nagging of his brother, Abelärd. The annoying dove was always checking up on him and, while Aldous did not enjoy such visits, he had to outright admit that his brother’s near constant presence in his life helped.

Not that he’d ever admit that to his brother. Over his dead body.

As his mind raced and rambled on, amidst the shuttering whispers and hisses in his head, he noticed that one of the wild corvids had approached him. This one... he had seen it before. Fumbling with something in his pocket, he took out a miniature reference book. Flipping frantically past pages lined with bird drawings and notes (penned in Deutsche), he landed on the well thumbed through corvid page.

“...You are... a ... chough.”

The subspecies of a crow looked up at him with curious, beady eyes. It stood apart from the snow all around it, its sleek, black body brilliant in the weak light of the mid-morning.

“An alpine chough. ...Fascinating.” Fishing around for his pen, he found it and, after scribbling down the date next to the bird, pocketed both items once more. “What it must be like to be a bird. I envy you.” 

He spoke in his native tongue, knowing full well the bird more than likely did not understand Deutsche, let alone English. Didn’t matter to him. Company was nice to have. Someone, or something, to talk to. Something to break up the monotony of this world.

The chough hopped a little closer, and the tiny bird peered up inquisitively at the scarred man. It was a brave little cuss. It showed no fear or trepidation in approaching the human. 

Aldous dipped his gloved hand into the bag next to him, and he brought out a handful of food. Seeds, dried berries and dried insects; a mix he had come to learn most corvidae enjoyed.

The food was scattered. The chough daintily picked through most, focusing, instead, on the dried berries. Vegetation. It preferred vegetation. Interesting.

More of the corvidae class approached him following the scattering of the food. They were lured in by the offer of lunch. Crows, and rooks; ravens and choughs. They all dined amongst one another, some carrying food over to the more elderly of the group. 

Family.  Corvidae looked after their own. They took care of their sick, their elderly, and kept a tight knit community. Even those who were a bit more of an outcast than most were welcomed in and accepted. 

Aldous knew he was the outcast. He was the odd little crow or raven, old and bedraggled, in the mix of all these flashy, colorful types. His wings were a bit dull, and they weren’t exactly glossy anymore. And his feathers? More than frayed a bit on the edges. He couldn’t fly anymore, and he was scarred. But there were people, like his brother, and his friends... who looked after him.

Just like the ravens who were pushing food towards their elderly parents, the people in his life cared. 

So what if he was an ill-omened bird. And so what if he was scary, or had an illness. There were members of his unkindness that helped look after him. They did so out of the goodness of their own hearts. No obligations other than the one formed by a tightly knit bond. 

...He admired those people. And he secretly thanked them for caring. Caring enough to reach out to him; to get to know him instead of just believing the rumors, or stopping when he put up his defensive front.

He wondered, one day, if he could properly thank them for their kindness. Until then, he’d continue to watch over them, protecting their backs when they were looking away.

After all, he may be scarred and damaged, but he was still strong. He was a crow, or a raven. He was intelligent. He was cunning. He was adaptable...

And he was surviving.

[fabrowrites]

Skyward Chapter 4: Take a Breath of Myth and Mystery

Chapter 3

'We've waited for Cole long enough. I say we go on ourselves.'

Of course, Zane couldn't actually understand the dragon, but he had a feeling his interpretations were accurate. Again he studied the dragon's posture, trying to decipher the various tells of his body language.

"You believe we should move on?" He was rewarded with a fervent nod. The dragon's wings were twitching. Hmm, impatience? He added it to his ever-growing list.

The sky was lightening through the trees, streaks of pale orange coloring the deep blue. The soft twittering of birds merely accented the hushed spell cast over the forest.

So the bellow that shattered the stillness was jarring. Zane whipped around, heartbeat fluttering erratically. Movement caught his eye. He perceived a flash, and then the forest fell dark and silent once more. We must have been closer to the road than I thought, he absently noted. A tap on his shoulder sent his pulse spiking again.

"Jay?" The lightning dragon looked repentant, his wings drooping. "Sorry, you startled me, that's all."

He nodded, wings lifting again as he clawed away fallen needles.

THAT WAS COLE ID RECOGNIZE HIS SCREAM ANYWHERE

"Are you sure?"

The dragon gave him a look, but it was enough to assure Zane. Jay tended to babble when he was doubtful or lying. But that led to another question. Why would Cole turn into a dragon? While he thought, he started towards the road.

The sight that greeted his eyes was one he'd seen before, right before the skeletons vanished to the Underworld. A wrecked vehicle, deep tread marks imprinted into the damp earth. Only this time, there were no tracks leading away from the crash site. He frowned.

"Jay, how did you transform?"

The dragon went to write, but he froze in his movements.

I SPINJITZUED

The pieces clicked together. Zane pursed his lips, feeling a headache coming on.

"And you didn't think to alert me or Cole of that fact?"

I WAS EXCITED OKAY

There was no use in dwelling on the past. Zane focused himself on what was ahead: namely, the temple. "What's done is done. We need to continue to the Fire Temple. Cole will know where to find us."

The temple was a black mass against the morning sky. Low growls echoed from the volcano. As Zane drew near, he picked up the sounds of scratching as well. He turned to Jay.

"I sense that another member of our party might be in your situation."

Jay nodded. He tilted his head back and screeched. His call sounded more like a bird's than anything else, and Zane didn't understand why Cole had been afraid of it. Then again, he didn't understand much about other humans in general.

Thus, why he'd taken to studying body language.

The scratching stopped. There was another call from inside -this one slightly deeper and more throatier- and Jay's ears perked.

ITS KAI

That much was obvious, but Zane decided not to say anything. "How do we reach him?" he asked instead.

Jay and Kai exchanged several more remarks.

HE SAYS THE DOOR IS BLOCKED AND THE ONLY OTHER WAY OUT IS TO FALL DOWN A LAVAFALL

They needed a way in, not a way out. Zane frowned. How does one enter a volcano?

"Jay? Would you ask him if he is able to see any gaps that might lead into a tunnel?"

Evidently, Kai could hear him. The fire ninja's reply came before Jay could ask.

HE CAN

Zane studied the volcano. He had an idea, but he would need to make some adjustments before it would work.

"So you're saying that you've been training as a secret ninja warrior for the past few months, learning an ancient martial art that just so happens to have the side effect of turning you into a dragon?"

Well when you put it that way… Kai snorted, but nodded his head regardless. He perched beside the magma pools, surrounded by the kanji scratches littering the floor and walls. It had taken some thinking to get his sister to trust him, but after he thought to write out his words communication was much simpler.

YEAH BASICALLY

Nya sighed. "Honestly, Kai."

I DIDNT MEAN FOR THE DRAGON PART TO HAPPEN

"You never mean for things to happen!"

THATS TRUE

Nya said something else, but her words were drowned out by the cry from outside. Kai whipped his head around, automatically twisting it to triangulate the sounds. Was that… Jay?

"Kai? Are you in there?"

It was! Kai scrambled to his feet. He bolted towards the temple entrance, skidding to a stop just short of crashing into the rocks.

"Jay! I'm here!"

"Kai? Where are you going? What's that?"

Kai didn't have the time to stop and scratch out a reply. Jay was speaking again, and it took all his concentration to make out the words.

"Oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm a dragon! And you're a dragon too! I finally have someone else who can actually understand me! Wait, how do I get in? I might be too big for the door!"

"Doesn't matter anyways, the door is blocked." Kai groaned, slouching against the wall.

"Is there any other way in?"

"Well, Sensei said there were other ways. That was right before he tumbled over the edge of a river of lava."

"What? Sensei fell into lava? Is he dead? Ohmygosh, he's dead!"

"He's not dead!" Kai said, before Jay could work himself up into even more of a frenzy. "He knew what he was doing. He was on a rock."

"A rock. That's not the most reassuring, Kai!"

"Well sorry!"

There was a pause, and Kai became aware of a second voice from outside.

"Jay? Would you ask him if he is able to see any gaps that might lead into a tunnel?"

Kai glanded around the cavern. Indeed, there were many cracks and dips in the volcano's walls. Some of them looked deep enough to lead outside.

"I can!"

Things feel silent then. Kai turned back to Nya, who watched him with a befuddled expression.

ITS MY TEAMMATES

A look of understanding passed over her face. "They're dragons too?"

I GUESS

Scraping noises came from the walls, followed by the sounds of tapping claws and hissed groans. Then two creatures tumbled into the cavern. They were dusted with a fine red powder. The blue one shook the color off himself and Kai took the opertunity to study his teammates.

The blue one was bigger than him, but that wasn't saying much. Jay only stood a head or two higher than Nya, and Kai himself was nearly on eye level with her. The white one- Zane- was even smaller than Kai, about half a head shorter. Someone was conspicuously absent, however.

"Where's Cole?"

"He, uh, hewenttotheunderworld."

"What Jay means to say is that Cole was unaware that spinjitzuing led to transformation. He attacked skeleton warriors and vanished to the Underworld."

A sickening sense of dread settled in Kai's stomach. First Sensei Wu, and now Cole? "We have to go and rescue them!"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that? Last I checked, we couldn't even fly-"

"I can, sorta."

"What?"

Kai shrugged. "I can glide across the pools, at least." He took a step back, pushed off, and waited for the thermal updrafts to carry him across the chamber. "Once I'm actually in the air, it's like my body instinctively knows what to do."

"Woah, that's so cool! I wanna try."

Jay's takeoff was shaky, but as soon as he caught the updrafts it was like he was a whole new dragon. He was great all the way up until the landing when he crashed into the wall.

There was a tap at Kai's shoulder. He tuned out Jay's happy chatter and focused on his sister.

"What's the matter?" Nya asked.

Kai had to hand it to her. He couldn't think of anyone else who could be so calm when surrounded by dragons, even if said dragons were your brother and his friends.

WE NEED TO GET TO UNDERWORLD TO SAVE FRIENDS

"Woah, that's your sister?" Jay had come back around the magma pools.

Kai snarled. "Jay!" He whacked him with his tail.

"Aren't dragons able to pass between realms?" Nya said, studiously ignoring the chaos around her.

"She's right," Zane said. "In the legends, dragons were not of one world and therefore could dwell in both of them."

It felt like the temperatures had plummeted. Kai knew the legends, of course. Dragons were hunted for their magical powers and the honor and riches beyond imagining that came with felling one.

Kai had grown up on these stories, often cheering on the valiant warrior who slew the beast. Not he felt sick. Were those dragons people once, too? Was his destiny like theirs, to die at the hands of an unrespectful hunter?

Nya brought him out of his daze. "Kai? Kai! Are you okay?"

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe! He opened his mouth and coughed, each breath warming his throat. Then it was like his body was back to normal, the ache in his chest gone.

IM OKAY

Nya gave him a look.

IM FINE NOW

Honestly, he was! Kai turned to the other two dragons, ignoring their concern. "I think the smoke's affecting my lungs," he said.

Zane didn't press, but Kai thought that he didn't believe him. The white dragon exhaled.

"If speed is the key to entering the Underworld, then we will need to fly."

Chapter 5