#in my mind she’s taller. longer limbs. more angular

[eiffelradio]

this is gonna be awesome if i actually finish it

[browneyedgirly93]

Like An Autumn Breeze

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Summary: You are the youngest Archeron sister only 16 years old when you are shoved into the cauldron along with your two eldest sisters. You quickly learn that you are mated to the heir of The Autumn Court. 

Eris x Reader

Warnings: fear?

Word Count: 1562 A/N: This is my first multipart fic! I hope you enjoy it, I know that this premise has been done a ton but I hope you enjoy my rendition of it! :)

Part One

I was grabbed by two of Hybern’s guards and dragged towards the cauldron so much rage was coursing through my body, I began clawing at the soldiers bucking wildly trying to get out of their grasp. Nothing was working, they were much stronger than I was. If I hadn’t been gagged I would have spit in their faces. I continued flailing and bucking as I was lifted up and dropped into the water. 

I tried to grab the side of the cauldron but the soldiers pushed me down into the freezing cold water. Suddenly it felt like a fire had erupted in my heart and in that instant, I knew I was dying. I could feel my limbs extending with excruciating pain, it felt like every muscle was being torn. The fire was pulsing through my veins and I couldn’t contain it any longer. I watched as flames shot out of my hands in firey ribbons, mixing with the black inky water it began swirling around me. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.

“The youngest of the sisters, your soul burns with rage and fear” an ancient voice filled my head as the fire swirled closer around me the temperature getting hotter. “This fire is not ordinary fire, it burns brighter and hotter than the rest.” The fire engulfed me burning me to my core. With that the cauldron tipped and I was dumped on the floor gasping for air. Feyre rushed to my side reaching out to me she pulled her hand away looking down to see a burn mark, looking down at me I met her eyes. 

“It burned me” I rasped out as everything went black.

It had been a month since that awful day in Hybern when my sisters and I had been made Fae by the Cauldron. I was living in The Night Court in the House of Wind with my Elain, Nesta and Lucien while Cassian and Azriel looked after us. I had been watching as Elain wasted away to nothing and Nesta watched over her, neither one of them even bothering to ask how I was feeling. 

I was so angry, I felt like I was going to burst into flame at any moment. I didn’t feel like myself anymore, my entire body was different I was taller and my limbs were longer. My face was more angular and sharp, with pointed ears, my eyes seemed bigger than before and my hair had changed shades. Instead of the golden-brown hair my sisters and I had shared, mine had changed to a more orange tone. I didn’t recognize the female in the mirror anymore and that made me so angry.

I needed to do something with all this pent-up anger, I needed to turn this rage into something positive or it would eat me alive. Before I could change my mind I went searching for Azriel, asking him to winnow me to the townhome. He did so without any questions and then immediately faded into the shadows.

I walked to Rhysands office, beginning to feel a bit nervous. I raised my hand to knock and before my knuckles hit the door I heard him calling. “Come in Y/N!” I pushed open the wooden door and walked in. He was sitting at his desk watching me with a feline smile plastered on his face. “What can I do for you today?”

I sat down in one of the leather chairs facing his desk and placed my hands in my lap, taking a deep breath I said “I want to help with the preparations for the oncoming war.” 

“Is that so?” he asked a hint of amusement flickered in his violet eyes as he leaned back in his chair stretching out his legs in front of him and placing an ankle on his knee. I stared into his eyes nodding. 

“I don’t have many skills, but I am willing to learn” I said trying to hold the gaze of The High Lord of The Night Court, his face unreadable. Silence filled the room and I fidgeted slightly, he was either in deep thought or having a silent conversation with someone from the Inner Circle. The silence was nearly deafening, I could feel the flame flickering to life inside of me. “Please Rhys I need to do something, I can’t keep sitting around in that house anymore.” I pleaded.

“Alright, you begin training with Cassian and Azriel tomorrow morning. Have you been experimenting with your powers?” he said simply. I shook my head as fear flittered across my eyes and I watched his face change, he looked at me with such sympathy. “Have you tried to use your powers at all?”

“No, I’m too afraid” I sighed looking down at my hands ashamed.

“Y/N I know you’re afraid, but we need to start working on learning about your powers. Not just so you can learn to use them, but so nothing happens to you because of them.” he lets out a puff of air. “I would never forgive myself and I know Feyre would murder me if anything happened to you.” 

“How?” I whispered.

“We will work together to figure it out, in the afternoons after you’ve finished working with Cass or Az I will meet with you and we will start learning about your powers. If I cannot be there I will send Mor or Amren in my place.” he smiled softly at me. “On days we are not training your magic you will be learning to read and write, if Feyre was neglected in her studies I can only assume you were as well.”

“Yes” I nodded raising my eyes to meet his, his gaze was filled with sympathy. “Thank you Rhys!”

“I will collect you after lunch tomorrow and we will begin our first lesson.” There was a knock on the door and Cassian joined us. Rhys explained the plan for my training and Cassian was excited to see what I could do. 

I had stepped away from the sparring ring to gulp down a cold glass of water and turn to find Cassian stalking over to me with a smirk on his face.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna make me train for longer” I said while crossing my arms across my chest. He shook his head chuckling at me.

“You’re in luck this time, Rhys wants you down at the Town House.” he said grabbing my hand gently and lifting me into his arms.

“Cass, what are you doing?” I shrieked as he took to the skies and we flew through the skies causing him to roar with laughter. I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could not wanting to look, another shriek left my lips as I felt us falling and suddenly we were floating down slowly. My feet hit the ground and I opened my eyes, whirling on Cassian my fists already raise he was already on the porch of the Townhouse holding the door open for me.

“Ladies first” he said bowing slightly, I glared at him.

“I hate you” lifting my hand and pinching him in the arm, his yelp quickly turned to laughter as he followed me through the door. 

“No you don’t” he smirked and walked over to the couch and flopped down. I stomped further into the house to see Rhys and Feyre waiting in the living room.

“Y/N” A smiling Feyre looks up at me, her lips thinned into a grimace as she looked at Cassian. “What did you do?” 

“Absolutely nothing” he smirked stretching his legs out on the low-lying coffee table and placing his hands behind his head.

“Nothing!?” I scoffed throwing my arms in the air dramatically. “I’m afraid of heights Cassian!” The three of them burst out laughing and I can’t help but join in.

“I’m sorry Y/N” Cassian says getting up and patting me on the crown of my head, I swat at him as he scurries away. I walked towards my sister and her mate sitting down in a large velvet chair across from the couch they are occupying.

“So what’s up?” I ask.

“We have a mission for you of sorts” Rhys smiled at me, I lift an eyebrow in question and he continues. “As you know we are working to form an alliance with the Autumn Court and specifically with Eris Vanserra the eldest of Beron’s sons and his heir.”

“In a few days we will be going to Hewn City for one of our regular visits, and we would like you to join us.” Feyre took over from Rhys. My stomach tightened, I had not been to the Court of Nightmares yet but had been told about it. They could both sense my fear. “You will be safe Y/N!”

“We ask you to come because Eris will be joining us that evening and we would like you to entertain him.” Silence filled the room as they both watched me, my gaze was shifting between them.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” I squinted at them.

“He’s an arrogant, obnoxious asshole. But I’m sure you’ll put him in his place.” Rhys winked at me with a laugh as Cassian bounded back into the room with a bottle of wine, four stemmed glasses appeared on the table in front of us.

[thepetulantpen]

A Coming Of Godhood Story

(in which the Traveler does favors for the Mighty Nein and makes some friends along the way)

Chapter 1

The Raven Queen is accustomed to solitude. She is alone when she wants to be and when she doesn’t want to be, lonely when she is with people and when she is not, by herself before and after Vax.

Before and after any champion at all, even Purvan.

It’s in her nature to be alone. Death is a lonely thing- nobody wants anything to do with it, until it has something to do with them. Which makes it incredibly rare to have an unfamiliar man in her chambers. Nobody comes here without invitation, and nobody gets invited.

Then again, he’s not physically here. The man, if she continues to call it that, is little more than a flicker of green light in the shape of a person. He’s trying to be solid, but the veil’s resistance is fighting him. Attempting to come here directly from the mortal world is a ballsy move- and unhealthy, if he wishes to remain mortal.

“-elp! Rave-“

She’ll never get anything done if all this shouting continues, but she doubts getting up will be much better. Another distorted shout, cut apart and warped so the words are rendered entirely unrecognizable, makes the decision for her. This isn’t what she signed up for, after going through great pains to get her divine position, but the sooner she deals with it, the sooner the noise will stop.

At the very least, there’s potential for this to be amusing. Mortals have only gotten more complicated over the years, and they never seem to stop.

The man must see her stand because he shuffles forward, limbs shattering into particles as he moves. His hand reaches out, vying for anything that could pull him over, make him solid.

She takes his hand and pulls; it takes less effort than she imagined for him to cross over. Once he’s standing at the foot of her throne, as solid as her and standing close enough to touch, she realizes this is no man.

Where the translucent green shape was, now stands a humanoid in a green cloak, hood obscuring all of his face except for a wicked smirk inset on pale skin. The green energy does not disappear, just disperses to outline his shape, sparking and reacting with the dark shadows spread throughout her chambers.

She is used to looking down on humans, and even the longer-lived races, as passing blurs, mere flickers in her eternity. This one is different, his very presence drawing her attention, taking up just a bit more space, a bit more air, a bit more than she’s accustomed to.

It’s familiar, like a mirror of herself long ago. It’s not possible.

And yet here he is. Glowing with something divine and not quite his.

He grins up at the Raven Queen then bows, dramatically. “Matron of Ravens! I seek your council and assistance.”

She rolls her eyes, gone unseen in the shadow of her mask. She’s no fool, she’s seen this type- despite the oddness of his arrival, everyone wants the same thing when they come to her door with a bargain. Settling back on her throne, she takes her usual form, towering over her new guest. The porcelain mask goes still, frozen in the face of strangers, but ready to bend to her will.

“I know what you want.”

The green cloak chuckles and a pair of green eyes peers out of the darkness, piercing through the shadows that conceal the rest of his features. He winks at the Raven Queen then shifts so the hood covers his eyes again, showing only his smirk.

“That makes this considerably easier—“

“I did not say I would give it to you.”

His grin widens at that and he relaxes even further, leaning nonchalantly against the air, as if there was a wall to prop himself up on.

“I thought you’d say that, which is why I’ve brought something to trade you.” A light shines across his teeth, despite the only source being dim torchlight behind the Queen. “A deal you cannot refuse.”

The Raven Queen smiles behind her mask, charmed by the audacity of this young man- young god, rather. It shouldn’t be possible for someone new to come to power now; though, that’s what they said about her, when she ascended. But that was before the books were burned, so the proper rites couldn’t be performed. This doesn’t feel like the atrocity Vecna was. What could be giving one mortal the power of a god, right under their noses?

Enough power to confidently charge into the Raven Queen’s chambers and start demanding a trade- she’d certainly like to see the source of that.

“Is that right? What treasure do you believe matches the worth of a soul, hm?”

Standing straighter, the stranger snaps his fingers and a small object drops into his waiting palm, appearing to the Raven Queen as a brief flash of white. He takes it between his fingers and holds it up for her to see... a bone.

A very important, very lost bone.

“The pinkie bone of Purvan! A little worn down by the sands, but mostly intact—“

The Raven Queen rises from her throne and all the ambient noise in the chamber quiets. The faint sounds of blood dripping and ravens cawing disappear, leaving her ears ringing with silence.

“Where did you find that?

An ordinary man would’ve turned to dust at her tone, but he stands firm, albeit a little intimidated- he knows that she has old power, much older than his. Not a complete idiot, just acting like one.

“Right where it was left, of course.” His eyes are bright with unnatural light, manic alongside his too wide smile. He meets her gaze without flinching, hand absently twirling the ancient bone. “In the rolling, lovely chaos of Pandemonium.”

The Raven Queen sits back down, putting her hand to her temple- an ineffective gesture, given that there’s a barrier of porcelain. Trickster gods, so much more trouble than they’re worth.

“It’s not that simple. They have to want to come back, there are rituals for a reason—"

He cuts her off with a dismissive hand wave that tempts her to violence, something she hasn’t bothered with in decades. She imagines if she could see his face, he’d be raising his eyebrows.

“Do you honestly believe Mollymauk has any qualms about coming back from the dead?”

There’s a sound like rustling feathers, but much louder, and then the Raven Queen is standing behind her intruder, taking a form just a few feet taller than him. He doesn’t startle, but the smugness of his posture fades, replaced by a tense calm- confident but prepared for anything.

She bends forward, close to his ear, and the mask smiles, porcelain animating to her will. “And what do you, young god, want with Mollymauk’s soul?”

His head turns partially towards her and she sees the outline of a face, angular and strange, for a second, before the cloak moves back into place.

“It’s a favor for a friend, of sorts. She wants him back and breathing.”

The Raven Queen hums, the usual protests coming to mind. It’s not right to release a soul without the proper methods, especially not in exchange for her own interests, but Mollymauk is a little too... energetic for his final rest.

Besides, she’s suspected for a while that it wasn’t his time- they’ve gotten it wrong before, after all. This could be fated- in fact, she’s going to assume it’s fated, for the sake of her own sanity. What is fate, really, if not a god showing up and insisting you be brought back to life?

“I suppose this trade would be beneficial for both of us. But,” she sweeps in front of him and stares down, her feathered mantle casting a grim shadow, “nobody else can hear about this. I don’t make exceptions often and don’t intend to give out souls to anyone with a decent artifact.”

It’s not just a decent artifact, they both know that, but it’s best to keep up appearances, even if they’re transparent. He holds out a hand, covered in an emerald green glove, and the Raven Queen takes it, with a quick, formal shake.

“It’s a deal- I won’t tell a soul.”

Smothering a groan, the Raven Queen focuses on summoning the soul in question, bringing it to her hand in the form of a bright purple light. As she concentrates on it, it slowly solidifies into a glowing stone. She holds out her hand for the bone and, as soon as it’s dropped into her palm, hands over Mollymauk’s soul, ready for transport into the mortal realm.

“Thank you for the audience, my lady. I’ll be on my way now.”

With a wave, he begins to disappear, glowing green and turning transparent. The Raven Queen stops him with a firm hand around his wrist, her power easily rivaling his, especially in her own domain.

“You can’t leave without even introducing yourself. What shall I call you?”

His smile floats in the shadow under his cloak, riding the line between creepy, with no face accompanying it, and comforting, serving as a light in the dark.

“The Traveler. You’ll know it soon enough.”

With that, his magic pulls away and the Raven Queen lets him go, shaking her head.

They’ll need to keep an eye on this new god, see that he turns out alright. They say it takes a village- or a pantheon, in this case- and the Raven Queen has a personal curiosity for new divinity. As the newest of the established gods, the last mortal to ascend, she has a vested interest in learning how the Traveler managed to do it and in ensuring the power doesn’t corrupt him. He may be divine, but there’s a lot more to godhood than magic and a handful of followers.

Still, she’ll have to be careful- based on his performance today, she may have been underestimating him. If someone so powerful has stayed out of their sight for this long, he’s likely more clever than he’s been given credit for.

The Traveler could be a wonderful blessing or a terrible curse. They’ll just have to wait and see.

(A snippet of this was previously posted on this account- but the full draft is now complete! This chapter is already on ao3 (same title, same username) and the rest of the chapters will be updated either daily or every few days, depending on my how much schoolwork I have. If there’s any interest, I might post them on here, too.)

[raintekla]

Rain Tekla: Zeyo Atoel Part II

  It was a sleepless night, the first of many she would come to have throughout her life. Young Zeyo’s home was small, like most, herself sleeping in what might be considered a closet in Eorzea. There was no room for pacing here. Instead she just lay on a small flat mattress, holding a pillow against her chest. She had so many thoughts, so many concerns and emotions.

  Hormones. That’s what she had heard someone call it. She wasn’t a kid any more. Well, she was and she wasn’t. She was getting taller, stronger and just growing out of her adolescence. A kid, in her mind, was an androgynistic short little person. She was, as her mother had put it, ‘developing’. Blagh. And she wasn’t alone in that regard either. So, too, had Rhom grown. When they had first met, she hadn’t even noticed him. He had just been another face in the crowd, really, but that was easy enough a perspective for someone who was only six years old. To be fair, he hadn’t quite been a ‘he’ back then either. In her village, at least, children were just that, children. They all kind of looked the same, lanky tanned bodies still growing into their ears. It was common courtesy to use the singular ‘they, them, their’ to speak to kids. Zeyo, at the time, had thought herself fully capable of picking out any boys from girls, and so she had copied something an older woman had taught her to call her elder kin. ‘Sister’.

She had been proven wrong.

  To think, back then they had been so alike. They were still best friends, no doubt, but they had grown so differently. They could have been mistaken for siblings, maybe even twins at one point. Now they were just, well, different. His arms had grown, his chest had widened, his ‘baby face’ had become more angular. He was beginning to resemble more and more the pictures she had seen of the Wardens. Is that why she had kissed him? Or had it been fear of losing him? Maybe that had just been her instinctual attempt at calming him down.

Feeling down? How bout a big wet one? Panic attack? Pucker up, Buttercup!

  Two dozen times she had gone through it in her head. What had happened, why it had happened, and of course, what she was going to do about it. She had promised him that they wouldn’t take him from her, but when she had made that promise, she had no plan whatsoever. The best idea may have been to just sleep on it, get some rest and brainstorm in the morning over breakfast. Instead, she elected to just overthink things and punch her wall in frustration. 

  As morning sunlight crept through her little window, Zeyo had her plan ready. It may not have been perfect, but it certainly sounded better than exiling herself from the village. She could never leave this place, it was her home. Her friends were here, her family, her entire life. For breakfast she helped herself to a large strip of dried seasoned meat, then ran outside. Up above, a familiar hawk cried out before descending towards her, landing on a little stone perch. At that moment her mind went back to an old teacher, Vjnne. She couldn’t recall if, historically, hawks were part of the natural ecosystem, or something that had been brought to her people hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Rhom could have told her. He had always been the better listener.

  The hawks made for great scouting companions and messengers. This one, named Hawkje, belonged to Rhom’s family, and held a little rolled up note in it’s claws. Zeyo took the letter with one hand and stroked the feathered friend with another, her heart sinking.

[ Dear Zeyo,

     I wanted to say goodbye. You’re the best friend that anyone could ever ask for, and I love you. A Warden came to see me last night. Not just any man from the jungle either. He says he’s my sire. My father. I don’t know how to feel about that, but he tells me that he can teach me to be strong. He says we have a long way to travel, so we’re leaving at daylight. I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. I’m really scared, but know that I’ll always be thinking of you. It might be a very long time before we see each other again. I have too much to say, and he keeps looking at me like he’s ready to walk out in the middle of the night. I don’t want him to see me cry, so I’m trying to suck it up, but you know me. I can’t help it. Sorry.

     I wish I could have said goodbye in person, but for men, companionship and dependability is a crutch. Apparently. Love, Rhom ]

  Zeyo read the letter twice, still stroking Hawkje. Her heart began to beat faster, her respiration began to stagger and the inside of her throat felt very cold and tingly all at the same time. Before her panic could get the better of her, she steadied her breathing, swallowing her emotions and physically calming, as she had been taught to do. She had come up with a solid plan through the night, and while it was still solid, it had now changed.

--

  Sister Crjn, or as some of the li’l brats called her ‘Old Lady Crjn’, had been preparing for another sparring day for the children. Truth be told, sparring day was usually a cover. It was her ‘take it easy’ day, her recovery day. Any time she had spent the night drinking too heavily, and some mornings even, she would just tell the kids it was sparring day. In that way, she could just sit down on her ass and watch the younglings beat the hells out of one another with wooden training swords, staves, or whatever else she had decided to ‘teach them’ that day. She wasn’t particularly hung over today, at least not like she had been the day before. She was just having a ‘twofer’. Sun in and sun out she was trying to beat her head against those of the kids’, hoping to impart at least a fraction of her knowledge unto them. The stress of administering such higher learning meant that she was entitled to a few sparring days every now and then, right?

  And that had been the idea when she had rolled out of bed that morning. Get up, grab a bite to eat, get ready to call another ‘sparring day’ and then pull some kind of lesson out of her ass before class time was over. That had been the plan until she saw what was waiting for her within the training grounds. Her kids, most of them anyroad, had already beat her there, and were standing around in a circle. In the middle was a single child, hands on their hips, waiting for her. Had she slept in? She had to take another glance up at the sun. Nope, same time as usual. Everyone else had just arrived early. Trying to mask the surprise on her face, she took a breath and resumed her cool flat expression.

“Sister Crjn, I’m callin’ you out.”

  Immediately Crjn’s eyes squinted and her fists balled up. This was not a case of eager students ready to learn. This was one idiot kid looking to get their jaw broken. This was a trial. She never broke stride, pacing her way to the interior of the ring. The little brat calling her out wasn’t even of age. Zeyo was, twelve, thirteen summers old? Most of the ones who challenged her for the first time were nearer twenty. A moment of weakness caught the old veteran in her soft spot as she dug her right pinky nail into a long floppy ear. Not once had she ever allowed someone to take back their challenge, but seeing as this was her favorite student of the semester, mayhap even, well, ever.. “I must have misheard you, runt.”

  Zeyo stood her ground, tall and proud, the expression on her face quite serious. This was usually the girl who was always smiling, always playing, teasing, making jokes. This was a complete change in attitude, and Crjn knew exactly why. The little pacifist had been taken away, likely. That burned her up a little, knowing that she was responsible for preparing them. If her children failed, so too did their teacher, in Crjn’s mind anyroad. And now here Zeyo would present her with a second failure. It was disheartening, but Crjn would see the job done.

“You’re too early, summers too early. Let all of your peers gathered before you make judgement of your actions here today. You are a fool to take the trial now, but words will no longer alleviate you of your predicament. If you want to bow out, kneel now and say nothing, save yourself a few broken limbs.”

“My name is Zeyo of Atoel, I am thirteen summers old and today I challenge you for the right to become a proper woman in the eyes and respect of the village.”

  Crjn stepped outside of the ring, students with expressions a mixture of both fascination and horror parting out of her way, as if any one of them could somehow be roped into what would surely be the beating of the century. She made her way to a small wooden table, pulling back a weighted cloth to reveal a variety of weaponry.

“Choose any one single weapon to defend yourself.”

  Crjn didn’t need to reach for anything on the table as she made her way back to the inside of the ring, the kids closing in behind her to fill the gap. From her back she unsheathed a well worn albeit sturdy wooden staff. She pointed the tip forward towards Zeyo, then spit a bit of morning gravy into the dirt between them.

  Zeyo, too, reached behind her back, only with both hands. After a few seconds, she nodded to her teacher, then brought both palms forward. One remained empty, the other wore a hardened leather glove that extended and tied to the forearm. “I have selected my weapon.”

  Crjn gritted her teeth as she stared at the little shit. She was racking her brain, trying to remember Zeyo’s family history, what grades she held with each weapons category, and her survival and tactics scores. This didn’t add up. Regardless, Crjn would approach this challenge as she had each one before. She would treat her opponent as her enemy, straying only from fatal blows. There would be no held punches here, and for the audacity of challenging her at such a young age, there would most certainly be broken bones. Nodding her head in return to Zeyo, Crjn spun her staff once, it’s weight balanced and familiar in her hand. “Begin!”

--

  This was it, this was for Rhom. Zeyo exhaled, concentrating on her breathing as the much larger weapon spun her staff on the opposite end of the fighting ring. Her teacher had at least a hundred ponze on her. She was taller, stronger, had better reach, and a hundred and fifty years more experience. Still, none of that mattered at this moment. This was the only way to be with Rhom, and so she would not fail. As soon as Crjn roared out to ‘begin’, Zeyo cried out as loud as she could, “Hawkje, to me!”

  She held her arm out to the side, stiff as she could make it, knowing that should the hawk not heed her call, it was over. Crjn, for her part, took a cautious step forward, gauging Zeyo as a serious opponent. Zeyo’s nerves rattled for a moment, imagining her own brains being splattered against the dirt, her friends and family shaking their heads. Poor Zeyo, she had such potential, but she was such a dumb girl in the end.

  Weight landed on her outstretched arm in the form of the morning messenger. Zeyo had no training with animals, and had never once tried to command her friend’s bird. Perhaps it was destiny, kindred spirits, empathy or something magical. Whatever it was, the beast had come to support her.

“Hawkje, kill.”

  Purple eyes locked onto her target as she threw her arm forward while giving the command. This wasn’t Crjn any more. This was an obstacle to overcome, and something she would not survive if she didn’t give it every onze of her being. And as if the pair had been training together all their lives, the hawk flew from Zeyo’s leather gauntlet, launching like a bullet straight forward.

  Crjn’s reflexes were too slow, her staff narrowly missing the bird of prey as its talons ripped into the viera’s cheeks, tearing flesh with ease. Blood sprayed both Viera and hawk as they battled one another, the blunt end of Crjn’s staff coming back up to defend herself, knocking into Hawkje and batting him to the ground with a heartbreaking screech. Her brown skin now painted crimson, peeled like curled pencil shavings in strips on either side of her face. She swung her staff around, hoping to catch the little shit, but her target was already gone.

  As quiet as she was swift, Zeyo had made her way around to Crjn’s blindspot. As soon as the staff swung, perhaps expecting an attack from the side, Zeyo dove forward. From behind her teacher, she wrapped her arms around Crjn’s waist, kicked at the back of her leg, then pulled back using her own force in conjunction with the momentum of the staff swing. As the larger woman fell back, Zeyo spun, allowing her teacher to bite into the dirt as she pinned her to the ground.

 If the two had been the same size, Zeyo would have had her right where she wanted. Unfortunately, even on her belly, her face torn to shreds and bleeding, Crjn was far from down and out. She spun around, and using her longer arms, elbowed Zeyo in the nose. Zeyo’s grip loosened as the gang of school kids heard the morbidly satisfying crunch of broken cartilage. For Zeyo, the world went red for a few seconds, pain erupting in her face. That was nothing, however, compared to the blunt of the staff crashing against her head.

  As soon as the staff made contact, Zeyo’s vision went black, her head cracked on one side, the ground rising up to meet her other. There she laid, bleeding, her head pulsing, blood matting her hair from the point of impact. It might have been over there and then, had she not heard the sound of the hawk’s cry. Willing herself to keep going, Zeyo’s eyes opened and she stood back up, breathing through her mouth.

  In front of her, Crjn battled Hawkje once again, this time the hawk’s right talon getting stuck in the corner of the teacher’s eyelid. In a sickening display, the eyeball popped right out of its socket in a splatter of blood and tears, still hanging on and dangling, fastened to nerve endings. Whatever empathetic chord the gore struck amongst the other students, Zeyo was immune. In a ferocious scream, Crjne swung her staff down diagonally against the bird, snapping its neck in one swift vengeful maneuver. Again, Zeyo took her opportunity. As soon as the staff was used, Zeyo dipped back into close quarters, palming Crjn’s chin up with one hand, then punched her in the throat with the other.

  The muffled coughing noise the older lady made had the circle of students close in. She was gurgling, choking, yet still Zeyo didn’t stop. As Crjn went to reach for her own throat, her grip on her weapon loosened just enough to allow Zeyo, both hands now wrapped around the midsection of the staff, to pry the thing loose. Backing away from Crjn’s blindly clawing free hand, Zeyo stepped to the side, then swung the end of the staff against the back of her teacher’s head with enough force to lay her into the dirt.

  Not taking any chances, Zeyo raised the weapon above her head, something primal within her rising and manifesting as a scream. That’s when a hand stopped her staff from caving Crjn’s head in. Snarling, Zeyo’s upper lip trembled in rage, the blood pouring out of her nose now covering her teeth and filling her mouth with the taste of copper. Meeting her gaze was her own mother, holding back the attack with a single hand.

“This is over.”

  Like a rabid dog, Zeyo didn’t want to unclench from her weapon. Sound returned, something she hadn’t noticed had somehow faded away. There was a boom of cries, some astonished, some joyous. The world was dizzying to look at, the edges of her vision now black, the pain in her head now sharpened, akin to a knife wound. As her fingers let go of the staff, she reached to the wound under her hair, wincing as it burned at the touch. As she took a step, it felt as if the earth beneath her feet was moving away from her. She stumbled forward, kneeling and catching herself with a single hand reaching out to touch the ground. As she tilted her head up, black sticky bangs obscured much of her vision, but she could make out two women addressing Crjn.

“Yeah. It’s over. I win.”

  No one rejected her claim. These trials usually ended in a bloodbath one way or another. Ferocity was not just encouraged, it was necessary. While her ‘weapon’ had been unorthodox, it had not been against the rules. No one had ever challenged Crjn with a hawk, but they had been used in combat before by other villagers. In fact, Zeyo had originally planned on just using one of the wooden practice swords until Hawkje’s arrival that morning. She knew now that had she tried with any other weapon, she would have failed.

  Thinking of the bird, her eyes turned towards it’s feathered corpse, only a few short fulm away. What had she expected to happen, that it would get in a few licks then fly away home intact? She certainly didn’t know she was sentencing it to death, or she never would have used him. How would Rhom take that news? Rhom! Hawkje deserved a decent burial for its service to her, but right now Zeyo had more pressing matters.

As the crowd of children, now dotted with curious adults, circled Crjn even closer, no one seemed to notice the victor of the trial slip away. No longer a child, Zeyo was now independent and free to do as she pleased with the respect of her people. She was a woman, as much an adult as even the eldest of the villagers. And with that newly gained freedom and reverence, she fled to the jungle.

--

[virginiamccarty]

How To Increase 3 Inch Height After 16 Dumbfounding Tricks

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