#source: the persuaders
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Am I the only one who doesn't really see Ras and his whole strength thing as an intentional toxic masculinity allegory? Like compared to Bonzle and Sora's obvious trans allegories, the Ras and strength thing feels more like just broad & general ideas to me. I'm not saying I CAN'T see it it definitely fits well it's just I'm not Sure if that's what they're actually tryna convey or not.
#ninjago#ninjago dragons rising#raine's rambles#i can be persuaded and accept dissent ab this post lol#ik as a guy i am not the best source to talk ab toxic masculinity but yk .#ras ninjago#ninjago ras#lord ras
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me, charting out a fic that is very Anti Qui-Gon Jinn: i think it would be cool to write a Melida/Daan AU. i should read the books to get a better idea of the characters and see if there's anything cool i want to include me: *hunts down online versions of The Defenders of the Dead and The Uncertain Path* me: *reads them, most likely giving my computer 5000 viruses in the process* me: ......ah fuck, it's a emotionally complex situation. shit. fuck. i can actually understand Qui-Gon's POV. goddamnit me, half sheepish and half angry: *rewrites fic outline to make it slightly less Anti Qui-Gon*
#star wars#fic writing#this is why we check the source material instead of relying on the fan wikis#and just to be clear: i still am VERY much on obi-wan's side#qui-gon should not have left his 13 year old padawan on the child soldier planet#but saying “qui-gon abandoned obi-wan on melida/daan without even trying to help” is a lie#qui-gon DID try to negotiate an end to the conflict#he DID side with the Young over the Melida and the Daan#he DID have plans to speak to yoda about the conflict and ask to return and help#so i can be persuaded to show mercy
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Soooo, how religious is Umei in general? Because I can't decide if some of her writing is purposeful Christian Propaganda or just happens to rub me that way
It's not purposeful Christian Propaganda; that's a whole lot more blatant. At least what I've seen about it. And annoying, obviously. Some movies so so bad because of it. (Izzy's mom has the habit of technically watching whatever movie YT tosses up and some have been choices, to say the least. There have been so many Hallmarks I've listened to while she's visiting.)
It's probably rubbing you that way because of previous exposure to such; likely a negative experience if you're also American because boy, some American Christians (denomination unspecified) are obnoxious and a hateful lot. Which is very much more evidence that the very vocal American Christians lost the plot ages ago. Which is true if you care to trace back the various faith movements in the protestant church and how that's effected politics and business over time.
Umei's British and the British Protestant Church cleaves a lot closer to Catholicism than American protestant churches. At least from what I know historically about them; I haven't really researched modern British Protestant church movements. And even what I know of the American stuff is still rather surface level.
Still you also gotta remember, what Umei's writing fictional character(s) who are religious, of a Christian flavor. That's going to show in how they act, think, behave and say.
If you write a religious character who finds strength in their piety and uses their faith to shape magic and has positive and affirming interactions with other people who also share that faith? Yeah, it's going to sound vaguely like religious propaganda. It's kind of baked in. Religious propaganda is written into any institutionalized faith such as most forms of Christianity, so as to keep the faith going and growing and the institution that promotes said faith, growing and in power.
And if it still bothers you, may the force be with you. ♥
And now I'm going to be really bitchy in the tags
#Izzy answers#anon#a religious character being religious is propaganda?#because they talk about their own experiences with faith as a person to another person in fic?#the point of propaganda is to persuade people to other perspectives#and the information used is misleading or biased or out of context#which is the definition of propaganda#information without sources is obviously the worst offender on the propaganda list#but this is the personal experiences of a character in a fic#said character is their own source#when dealing with irl obviously you have people who can and will lie which is why you want corroborative testimony or solid evidence#but still take it with a grain of salt because people are dumbasses (affectionate) and also dumbasses (with the hatred of 1k suns)#I'm going to assume this is ask is about Umei's most recent fic#in fic however you still got someone asking for advice and he got religious flavored advice back because he asked a religious person#how is that propaganda#he got back Christ flavored coping mechanisms not a pack of lies
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Say, we are best friends and-- Oh, shut your trap! We've been bestest of best friends since forever! Now shut up and listen. So, as my best friend, what would you say if I – purely hypothetically! – would come to you and say “hey, let’s both take female form and lie down together so we can determine how much times women can reach the peak of pleasure in a row, because I’ve heard from reliable sources that ladies are actually quite insatiable and can do it much more times than men and now I really want to know—“ Hey, where are you going?! You didn’t even let me finish! Let me finish at least once! Hahahaha! Aaaaand he’s running. Damn, I knew I should have started with courting gifts.
#tgcf#tian guan ci fu#heaven official's blessing#shi qingxuan#he xuan#ming yi#beefleaf#lemon#reliable sources being ladies who dragged wind master away in ghost town#ok listen#if cultivator's dick gets buff from physical training and spiritual energy and whatnot#what does it tell us about cultivator's pussy?#shi qingxuan wants to know#he should have just suggested ming-xun to do it FOR SCIENCE#that would persuade him (no)#tgcfragments
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On Symbolic vs Factual Beliefs
“The Truthers, in short, maintained that the government had gone to extreme measures, including killing thousands of its own citizens, in order to carry out and cover up a conspiracy. And yet the same Truthers advertised the conference online and met in a place where they could easily be surveilled. Speakers’ names were posted on the Internet along with videos, photographs, and short bios. The organizers created a publicly accessible forum to discuss next steps, and a couple of attendees spoke to a reporter from the Times, despite the mainstream media’s ostensible complicity in the coverup. By the logic of their own theories, the Truthers were setting themselves up for assassination.
“Their behavior demonstrates a paradox of belief. Action is supposed to follow belief, and yet beliefs, even fervently espoused ones, sometimes exist in their own cognitive cage, with little influence over behavior.”
#News articles#politics#the article goes on to suggest that misinformation is a symptom of the social unrest we accuse it of creating rather than the cause#Idk man maybe#Personally I’m more interested in trying to understand people who…#Ugh I don’t have the vocabulary for this. But like you KNOW flat earthers know the earth isn’t flat#but they argue it is and lump in with people who will indulge them because it’s not actually about the shape of the earth. It’s a social#thing.#And I think a lot of energy gets wasted trying to persuade conspiracists that specific things aren’t true when their espousing that belief#in the first place is never About whether it’s true.#When you debunk their shit they’re not like ‘’this person is joining me in my quest to perceive reality and is simply wrong’’#They just categorize you as Outgroup and go back to getting hype with their friends. I’m so sure that’s what it’s For.#Anyway this article has a lot of sources on That to follow up on so it goes on my blog
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#eria . had the hardest time w her hair .#my art#shes like stupidly devoted to being a source hunter and prioritizes it above everything else#<- party is doing the exact opposite of that though but its really easy to persuade her abt things#so shes like . oh well ig this is related to the job . if you say so .#have no reason for her makeup i just liked the face um . will think on that#oc tag#divinity ocs
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words for when your characters ______
Agree
accede, acceptance, accord, acknowledgment, acquiescence, align, avowal, bear, cohere, compromise, consent, contract, draft, enlist, give in/give up, go along/go along with, grant, negotiate, unanimous, yield
Deny
abjure, abuse, affront, attack, backstab, bad-mouth, belie, blacken, blemish, confront, curse, darn, defamation, defile, demur, denigrate, detract, dig, disclaim, discountenance, disgrace, disown, disparagement, downplay, explode, flout, fulminate, gainsay, gird, invective, jeer, lament, lecture, malign, minimize, mouth, needle, oppose, protest, put down, put-down, rebuff, refute, remonstrate, renunciation, run down, satirize, scold, show up, sit-in, slander, smear, snap, snub, squeal, sully, swearing, taunt, tirade, turn, underestimate, vituperation, write off, yammer
Explain
account for, admit, apprise, cite, clarify, come clean, concede, confirm, corroborate, defense, demonstrate, dilate, elucidate, enlighten, evidence, expand, explicate, gloss, illustrate, itemize, let on, palliate, plea, prove, recite, simplify, speak out/speak up, spell out, translator, warrant
Fabricate
aspersion, belie, disprove, profane
Inform
acknowledge, address, advertise, allow, allusion, apprise, bare, betrayal, blab, breathe, briefing, broadcast, chronicle, clue, come out with, confession, convey, debunk, define, detail, dictate, divulge, expose, feature, furnish, give, gossip, hint, intimate, issue, lecture, newscaster, orate, out of the closet, pass, post, proclaim, promulgate, publication, publish, release, reveal, show up, speak, spill, squeal, talk, tip, uncover, unveil, weatherperson, whisper
Instruct
bar, educate, prescribe
Persuade
advance, argument, bend, budge, carry, coerce, convince, discourage, draw, drum up, elicit, entice, forward, goad, hammer away/hammer into, induce, influence, invite, lobby, motivate, negotiation, pitch, prevail upon/prevail on, prompt, reason, spur, sway, urge, win/win over
Promise
assurance, avow, commitment, ensure, go back/go back on, oath, portend, vouch, warrant, word
Suggest
advice, advocate, ask, come up with, connote, drum into, exhort, fish for, get at, guide, imply, insinuate, moralize, move, nomination, pontificate, preach, propose, recommend, urge
Praise
accent, acclamation, accredit, adulation, apotheosis, applause, benediction, bless, champion, citation, commend, compliment, congratulations, credit, dedicate, deify, elevate, endorse, eulogize, exalt, extol, flatter, flattery, glorify, homage, laud, lionize, obsequy, plaudits, puff, salute, thanks, tribute, worship
Warn
admonish, alert, caution, caveat, defy, enjoin, exhortation, foreboding, foretell, page, remind, warning
NOTE
The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.
It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs
Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary
#vocabulary#langblr#writeblr#writing reference#dialogue#spilled ink#creative writing#dark academia#writers on tumblr#poets on tumblr#poetry#literature#writing tips#writing prompt#writing#words#lit#studyblr#fiction#light academia#writing resources
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The 2003 PlayStation 2 RPG Shin Megami Tensei III: Nocturne contains unused dialogue seemingly spoken by Luigi in its files. It is part of a text file containing placeholder messages for a negotiation system, with the Luigi message being called "DUMMY_SUCCESS_INFO", indicating that it was a placeholder for succeeding in persuading a character to divulge information.
Why Luigi was chosen for this is unclear, especially due to the lack of Mario references in the rest of the game and code.
Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source: 1, 2: despiriaSEGA
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Early Mornings | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Joel Miller came with a lot of things, both good and not so good. However, to your initial surprise, it came with a tiny bit of clinginess, especially in the morning, and Joel decided that this particular morning, he wouldn’t let you leave his bed.
Genre: Fluff
Era: Pre/no outbreak.
Warnings: No use of y/n, sleepy Joel, no actual warnings.
Word count: 811
A/N: So...guess who watched The Last Of Us...and fell in love with yet another apocalypse man...Me lol. I fully blame (thank) @dixonsdarkelf for this. She’s the one who said I would enjoy it, and she was right. Also, massive thanks to @daryltwdixon for being my Joel source and giving this the okay to post (aka seeing that I didn’t completely mess up his character) and to @/dixonsdarkelf for being my personal hype woman when I expressed being nervous as hell to post this. Anyways, TL;DR: I hope y’all like this!

When you first met Joel Miller, there was no denying that he wasn’t the friendliest of people. He wasn’t rude by any means, just not the most open with people he didn’t trust or care for. He kept to himself, kept his answers short and to the point, and didn’t go out of his way to please others. However, there was something about him that had you intrigued, that lured you in, and by sticking it out, by getting to know him slowly but surely, that stoic facade chipped away piece by piece. Soon, one thing led to another, and the two of you went on a date…and another, and another, until you both finally made it official.
You became Joel Miller’s girl.
When the two of you put a label on your relationship, it was as if a switch flipped in Joel’s mind. You got to see parts of him that most others didn’t, got to experience the soft side of him, see him be vulnerable and open with you, and it was beautiful. You felt honoured that he trusted you enough to share that piece of him with you.
What you had not expected, however, was how clingy he could be on occasion, especially in the morning.
“Joel,” you started with a soft laugh, attempting to pry yourself from his arms for the tenth time in a span of five minutes, but Joel’s grip only tightened in response. “Joel, I gotta get up.”
“No.” His voice was gruff and laced with sleep, with a sense of determined defiance there as well.
His response only made you laugh again. “Babe, I’m serious. I gotta get up. I can’t be late for work.”
“Call in sick or somethin’,” he grumbled tiredly, his arms tightening around your waist and pulling you even closer, if that was humanly possible. “Ain’t lettin’ you go. It’s too early.”
Carefully manoeuvering yourself to turn around and face him, you silently admired the beauty of the man you got to call yours. His face, usually sporting a slight frown, was soft and relaxed. His mouth was slightly parted, his eyes still shut, with his hair a mess and covering his forehead. He was supposed to go get it cut later that same day.
Slowly bringing your hand up to cup his cheek, you rubbed soft, soothing circles against his skin, his stubble pricking against your hand. You smiled when he subconsciously nuzzled into your touch. “Just call in sick. That simple, huh?”
“That simple,” he echoed. He opened an eye to peer at you, his dark, chocolate-like iris trailing over your features. A small, barely noticeable smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Want me to do it for you?”
Chuckling, you shook your head. “Aren’t you supposed to go to work today, too?”
Joel nodded. “Yeah, but I can be persuaded to call in sick if you do the same.”
“Is that so?” you asked rhetorically, raising your eyebrows at him.
“Mhm.” Without any warning, Joel pulled you into his chest, smiling at the sound of your sweet, angelic laughter. “We’re sick today. Practically on our death beds.”
Despite the logical part of your brain telling you that you needed to be firm, to get out of bed and haul your ass into the shower, you found yourself melting into his embrace. You lay your head down to rest on his chest, wrapping an arm around his bare torso.
“Five more minutes,” you offered as a compromise, shutting your eyes and humming in content when Joel’s nails gently raked over your back.
“Yeah, sure,” he chuckled, closing his eyes as well. He knew damn well that those ‘five minutes’ wouldn’t just be five minutes. And when you reached over to grab your phone ten minutes later, entering your boss’ number, he chuckled victoriously. “So we’re on our death beds today?” he inquired, his voice oozing playful cockiness.
You rolled your eyes in faux annoyance, but your smile gave you away and showed that you were, indeed, anything but annoyed. “We’re on our death beds today.”
“Damn straight.” He barely gave you any time at all before he was embracing you again, hearing the faint ringing being from your phone, which was pressed against your ear. He placed sweet, tender kisses against the skin below your ear, smiling at the sound of your giggles.
“Joel,” you drawled warningly, stiffling your giggles and sitting upright when your boss answered. “Good morning, sir.”
“I win,” he whispered playfully, chuckling when you rolled your eyes at him again.
“I hate you,” you mouthed to him, shaking your head and quietly scoff-laughing to yourself.
“Love you too, Darlin’,” he mouthed back with a quiet chuckle, making himself comfortable against his pillows, simply enjoying your presence as he waited for you to finish your phonecall and settle down once again.
#𝑘𝑟𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ࣪𖤐.ᐟ#new character i write for: unlocked#joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x fem reader#the last of us#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fluff
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TWO TIME HEADCANONS
i am obsessed with this freak and need to dump my thoughts
WARNINGS: brief mentions of blood (involving two time's wings) and cults, two time being two time word count: 914
authors note: i'm extremely rusty with writing and i quite literally never use tumblr. please forgive any mistakes i've made as i try to get the hang of this 🙏
First of all, Two Time is absolutely enamored by you. The two of you are practically connected by the hip. It may seem a bit much, but they just feel so drawn to you! Why wouldn't they want to spend every waking moment by your side?
Very touchy. Their hand is usually almost always on some part of you in public, most likely on the small of your back or simply holding your hand.
They would likely refer to you as their "guardian angel."
You'll catch them staring a lot pre relationship with that signature smile on their face.
Glances turn into full-on staring, innocent touches seem to last longer, your personal space seemingly becoming shared between the two of you.
In all honesty you probably catch on fairly quick to their habits.
From across the cabin you could feel eyes trained on your frame. Most would find this unsettling, but you honestly didn't mind. You didn't move to find the source, nor acknowledge it for that matter.
However Chance, who you had just been talking to, seemed more focused on something behind you rather than conversing. You tilted your head in confusion before twisting your body around to discover the distraction. Ah, that suddenly made a lot more sense. Settled up on the second floor, Two Time gazed down at you while their arms rested on the wooden railing. Their smile seemed to grow the moment your eyes locked with theirs. Chance would address you, asking something along the lines of "Are they bothering you?" In response you would only wave your hand dismissively. Their behavior, albeit creepy at times, didn't bother you. It was almost...endearing.
As stated by the devs, Two Time is a little "insane in the membrane." But this doesn't mean that you love them any less!!
They can and will talk to you about the cult and the Spawn as a whole.
Speaking of that, Two Time would love for you to be a member of the cult someday! They won't force you by any means, but that doesn't mean they won't try and persuade you.
Sometimes you'll catch them watching you while you sleep. They'll just..stare at you. They almost act like a cat in that regard.
They sleep almost completely still minus the subtle rise and fall of their chest.
You might just end up staring at them instead. They look so peaceful when they're asleep, so serene.
I'd like to think that Two Time naturally runs colder than most people. Their hands would be like ice cubes.
PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE GIVE THAT CULTIST A HUG!!! WARM THEM UP RIGHT NOW!!!!
Two Time will melt if you touch their hair. I'm not arguing about this I am correct and anyone else is WRONG /lh
One of their favorite things is when you comb your fingers through their hair as they lay on top of you after a round is completed. It makes them feel safe
The two of you have totally fallen asleep on the cabin's couch before
If you're an active participant of the games(?), Two Time will always put your safety before theirs. A killer is trying to attack you? They’re using their body as a shield to protect you.
As much as they want to keep you safe, you're very against their methods. Your heart sinks whenever you see their wings burst from their back.
Sat on their bed, your hand gently trailed down from Two Time's shoulders, to their back, to just below where their wings had sprouted from their back the round prior. Their shirt still had remnants of dry blood, just barely blending into their black top.
You hadn't meant to get in the way. One moment you were assisting with a generator, and the next you were almost another victim of the masked killer, Jason. You surely would have perished right then and there if Two Time hadn't grabbed you by the arm, pulling you behind them as they took the blunt of the attack.
As you relived the events again in your head, a shuddered breath left the cultist sitting in front of you. Snapping out of your daze, you muttered an apology. You didn't want them to be hurt, to have put their life on the line for you.
"The Spawn would be pleased in knowing you're safe."
Two Time spoke, tilting their head back and smiling your way. It was pained.
Deep down you knew they would do anything for you, but you couldn't help but feel guilty. Even "The Spawn" seemed to encourage Two Time's efforts despite the pain that came with it. So wordlessly you shook your head.
You leaned forward, placing a soft but fleeting kiss just in-between their wings. Their posture stiffened at your actions, almost making you wonder if you had upset or even worse, hurt them. But they soon relaxed, releasing a sigh of contentment. You took notice of the way their face blossomed in color.
A wave of silence washed between you two. However as your finger traced shapes along their shoulder, your partner spoke up again, although a bit quiet.
"Perhaps they would be pleased with my safety as well.."
Their muttering, that small revelation—it brought a smile to your face. Carefully you leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek, causing them to chuckle. They're devoted to The Spawn, but to you as well. Even if it conflicts, they'll try and make you happy <3
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OC Language and Vernacular Questions.
Is your OC a confident speaker? Do they find it easy to express themselves verbally? Or do they stutter or perhaps easily lose their train of thought?
Does your OC use any expressions or slang terms that are unique to the area in which they grew up, or a specific community of which they were once a member?
How often does your OC swear? Is it something that punctuates their everday speech? Or is it so unusual to hear them use "bad" language that it would shock those around them?
Does your OC have a particular accent? Do other people ever judge or stereotype them on the basis of their accent? How do they feel about this?
Can other people recognise when your OC is angry or serious by the tone of their voice? Or does their language become coarser? Or perhaps more formal?
Does your OC show courtesy in their language around others - do they routinely thank others, or do they only do so if they percieve that person as being of a higher social status?
Has your OC much experience of public speaking or any formal training in rhetoric? Do they find such things easy or intimidatingly difficult?
Did your OC's parents or other caregivers use any specific terms of endearment for them as a child? Do (or would) they use similar terms for their own children?
Does your OC consider their voice particularly "sexy"? Do they try to adopt a more seductive tone in romantic situations? How successful are these efforts?
Does your OC often punctuate their speech with filler sounds, such as "um" or "er"? Or words such as "like" or "you know"?
Has your OC ever made a conscious effort to change their voice? Perhaps by trying to rid themselves of a particular accent or making themselves sound more assertive?
Are there any particular words that make your OC cringe? Is this due to negative associations? Or second-hand embarrassment? Do they try to conceal their dislike?
Is your OC talented at creative writing, whether poetry or prose? Would they ever show their work to anyone else?
Are there any concepts or activities which are taboo in your OC's culture of origin, which they prefer to refer to euphemistically? How do the respond to others who do not share these taboos?
What is your OC's favourite or "go-to" swearword when under duress?
Does your OC's body language sometimes give away what they might prefer to conceal? Or are they practiced at ensuring that their physical presentation matches their stated positions?
Has your OC ever found other people struggle to understand them because of their accent? How did this make them feel? Did they resent the listeners? Or feel bad about themselves? Or both?
How does your OC feel about other people with "posh" or "upper-class" accents? Do they feel a natural deference to them? Or a resentment? Or do they not even notice?
To what degree does your OC amend their language and/or tone when speaking to children (or in front of them).
Does your OC ever use technical or academic language when discussing their specialist interests? Do others ever need them to translate these terms?
Does your OC like to ascribe nicknames or pet names to other people? How well does this usually go down?
What is your OC's singing voice like? Does it surprise other people by being better (or worse) than they expected?
How confident is your OC at writing? Do they regularly write letters or even academic papers? Or is their writing stilted, awkward - or even a source of embarassment to them?
How does your OC's voice change when they are trying to persuade someone else to let them have their own way? Is this particularly persuasive? Perhaps only to certain people?
Has anyone ever mocked or made fun of your OC's accent or the words they use? What was the impact of this upon them?
What kind of compliments might your OC bestow upon another person? Elegant flattery? Crude sexual banter? Measured, but positive feedback?
Does your OC ever use deliberately offensive or abusive terms towards particular social or cultural groups?
How easy does your OC find it to say "no"? Do they prefer to prevaricate? Is this out of courtesy? Or from a fear of rejection?
Are there any words or terms that your OC finds particularly offensive? Is this unique to their own experiences or something on which most people would agree?
Is your OC particularly vocal during sex? Do they tend to use actual words or even full sentences? Or just noises? How much control do they have over this?
How often does your OC raise their voice? Is this always deliberate or can they sometimes not help it?
Does your OC ever make idle threats? Or do they only state very precisely exactly what the consequences will be?
How long are the sentences your OC usually uses in conversation? Do they tend to communicate in brief, or even terse, pieces of dialogue? Or are they prone to flowery language - or even outright verbosity?
Does your OC yell or scream during arguments? Or do they become quiet and withdrawn?
Does your OC ever talk to themselves? How aware of this are they?
What is your OC's laugh like? Is it a genteel titter? A hearty belly laugh? Or a snorting noise like a constipated donkey?
How wide is your OC's vocabulary? Do others consider them eloquent or well-read?
If confronted by someone who cannot - or will not - speak how would your OC respond? If they cannot - or will not - speak themselves then how do others respond to this? How do they make themselves understood?
Is your OC particularly loud in combat? Do they yell? Roar? Or are they a silent and deadly presence?
Does your OC challenge others for perceived discourtesies? Or are they unwilling or unmotivated to cause a scene?
Does your OC ever wish that their voice was different? Are they ever embarassed or ashamed of their accent or the volume of their voice?
Does your OC find any particular voices or accents especially alluring or stimulating?
How often does your OC add new words to their vocabulary? Do they hungrily pick up new terms and words? Or do they struggle to remember such things?
How eloquent is your OC? Is their use of language beautiful, or at least skillful? Or do they struggle to communicate without sounding clumsy or awkward?
Does your OC ever change their language or tone when moving between different cultures or social settings?
What (if any) are your OC's go to "polite" expressions of disappointment or frustration? Do they ever substitute words like "sugar" or "darn" for stronger language? Under what circumstances might they do this?
Does your OC find it easy to talk about sexual activities or bodily parts? Or can they only speak about them using twee euphemisms or obscure slang terms? Or can they not speak about them at all?
What would be the most offensive word or term to use about your OC? How would they respond to this being used towards them? Would it matter what the intent or understanding of the person using it might be?
Was your OC quick to learn how to speak as a child? Was their grasp of language encouraged by those around them? Did anyone read with them? Or recite poetry or stories to them?
Does your OC ever revert to baser, perhaps even coarser, ways of speaking when under stress or anxiety? Or are they consistently poised and self-controlled, no matter how difficult the situation?
#oc ask list#oc ask game#character development#character inspiration#character building#oc ask meme#oc questions#oc game#oc ask prompts
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"If the name Hamlet comes from the play's sources, one thing that is distinctive about Shakespeare's naming in the play is the doubling of the name Hamlet for both the dead father and the living son. In none of the sources is the burden of the past, the psychic overlap between the two generations, so stressed as in the play. [...] Old King Hamlet symbolizes the past: familial, political, cultural and temporal. And his appearance pulls Hamlet away from the future and into the past. In the play's second scene we see two young men setting off on different courses. Laertes, son of Polonius, requests permission to go to France and is granted it [...]; Hamlet, by contrast, allows himself to be persuaded to stay at home rather than return to university, and in that decision he fixes himself for ever as a child."
—Dr. Emma Smith, This is Shakespeare (emphasis mine)
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Brandon Sanderson on why TV adaptations of fantasy works end up being so different to the source material:
I have a fun story here. Early in my career, someone optioned the rights to make one of my stories (the Emperor's Soul) into a film. I was ecstatic, as it's not a story that at the time had gotten a lot of attention from Hollywood. I met with the writer, who had a good pedigree, and who seemed extremely excited about the project; turned out, he'd been the one to persuade the production company to go for the option. All seemed really promising. A year or so later, I read his script and it was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life. The character names were, largely, the same, though nothing that happened to them was remotely similar to the story. Emperor's Soul is a small-scale character drama that takes place largely in one room, with discussions of the nature of art between two characters who approach the idea differently. The screenplay detailed an expansive fantasy epic with a new love interest for the main character (a pirate captain.) They globe-trotted, they fought monsters, they explored a world largely unrelated to mine, save for a few words here and there. It was then that I realized what was going on. Hollywood doesn't buy spec scripts (original ideas) from screenwriters very often, and they NEVER buy spec scripts that are epic fantasy. Those are too big, too expensive, and too daunting: they are the sorts of stories where the producers and executives need the proof of an established book series to justify the production. So this writer never had a chance to tell his own epic fantasy story, though he wanted to. Instead, he found a popularish story that nobody had snatched up, and used it as a means to tell the story he'd always wanted to tell, because he'd never otherwise have a chance of getting it made. I'm convinced this is part of the issue with some of these adaptations; screenwriters and directors are creative, and want to tell their own stories, but it's almost impossible to get those made in things like the fantasy genre unless you're a huge established name like Cameron. I'm not saying they all do this deliberately, as that screenwriter did for my work, but I think it's an unconscious influence. They want to tell their stories, and this is the allowed method, so when given the chance at freedom they go off the rails, and the execs don't know the genre or property well enough to understand why this can lead to disaster. Anyway, sorry for the novel length post in a meme thread. I just find the entire situation to be fascinating.
#Brandon Sanderson#The Wheel of Time#A Song of Ice and Fire#George R R Martin#WOT#asoiaf#HOTD#GRRM#Game of Thrones#GOT
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Only Mine
*A collective sigh of relief* FINALLY!
Part 3 of 'You'll Survive'
A/N: FW/IF and very minor OS spoilers, angst, fluff, swearing, and Garrick :)
Summary: Reckless must be your middle name, or at least that's what Garrick thinks. Until he's on the other side, then you realize something you've been putting off for too long. Continuation through the battle of Pavis.
Word Count: 19k
You'll Survive - Found You Again
“Do you think that masquerading yourself will save you?” The sickeningly sweet voice calls through your mind.
Running as fast as your feet will carry you, you look left and right but can’t seem to find the source. Panic and confusion clawing at your insides. Panting with exertion, sweat falling down your temples, you suddenly find your feet swept from underneath you and your arms tied to your side. Thrashing trying to pry yourself loose, but there aren’t any bindings to pull apart.
“Tsk, tsk.” The voice continues from behind you. “I figured it would’ve been harder to catch you. Seems you haven’t been utilizing your signet as well as you should.”
Finally, the owner of the voice comes into view, and you are met with crimson eyes and veins spidering out in every direction. Taking in the robes and the color of the venin’s skin, the prominent tattoo on their forehead a striking contrast, you know this isn’t just another student.
“You can recognize power better than other riders. Such an interesting conundrum. You can pretend to be us, yet you do not corrupt yourself as we do. Pity. A power like yours would be more than welcome in our ranks.”
“Fuck. Off.” You spit while still trying to thrash out of the magical hold.
“Ah-ah. Watch that pretty mouth of yours. I’ll be seeing you sooner than you realize, and you should never talk back to those more powerful than you.” Her words are purred in a voice in direct opposition to the threat behind them.
The hold she has on you drops and you begin sprinting as fast as the burning in your legs will allow. It isn’t until you are met with the ledge of a cliff that you turn back to the threat behind you. Your eyes blow wide watching the venin channeling behind you and the way the desiccation of the land is spreading quickly towards your feet.
Your head snapping between the options, of jumping off the cliff or being drained, has your head spinning trying to make the best decision. Refusing to give this thing more power, you turn to the cliff face and jump, a scream of absolute terror ripping from your throat and a seizing feeling of panic as you freefall.
Hard stone greets your face and your eyes fly open, heart fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, your breathing ragged and gasping. Long moments pass before your brain begins to catch up to reality. Hands braced on the cold stone floor of your bedroom and as you look around you realize you are alone.
A nightmare.
‘You are safe Bold One.’ Diomat’s voice is warm and a feeling of comfort washes through the bond.
Sitting on the floor, your knees to your chest, the silence creeps in as you try to process everything that just happened. Confusion filters through as you wonder if this is just something your mind has conjured up or a magic that is gripped tight as a vice on your thoughts.
Shaking your head trying to clear the fog of the dream, you decide that it must be because of the day you have ahead and try to let the fear go. Though no matter how you try to persuade yourself, the terror never fully abates, sinking its sharp talons into your mind. A bush of thorns curled around you with every prick a pull to your fear.
Realizing that the possibility of sleep for the rest of the night is gone, you dress for the day and head outside. Dawn is barely breaking, but you relish the sharp bite in the air and the way it cuts through your leathers. The sharp sting of the cold breaking through your clouded thoughts. Taking in deep breaths of fresh air, you focus on the feeling to try and calm your senses. Anything to wipe the terror of your nightmare from your mind. To sheer through the thorns of your thoughts and get back a semblance of peace.
Finally walking towards battle brief, there’s no controlling the shake of your hands or the rate at which your heartbeat begins to speed. The beat feeling as though it may pound through your chest.
Wiping your palms on your leathers only seems to make them slicker, the clammy sweat sticking to every surface. A faint sheen of sweat covers you and every nerve in your body is jumping with an energy that you are incapable of displacing.
“Are you ready for today?” Violet strides up to your side as you continue pacing outside the door, wringing your hands in worry.
“Uh – yes?” The higher pitch of your voice and the return of a question showcasing your obvious trepidation at what you’re about to do. There is no way to placate the anxiety that has claimed you or steady your erratic breathing.
She gives you a look as if she understands and squeezes your shoulder. You may not be overly friendly with her, but it’s at least a little bit of comfort from someone that’s already seen your capabilities.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that you’re covered.” A smooth male voice says from behind you, turning you find Bodhi striding towards the both of you.
Trying to give Bodhi a smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace, though he eyes you knowingly. Ever since you agreed you would do this, the moment in the Assembly room with the older Riorson cousin has been replaying repetitively in your mind.
“We can postpone until Garrick is back. You don’t have to feel pressured.” Bodhi tries to persuade, but you’re unsure if he’s doing it for you or himself. Knowing full well that Garrick is going to be angry when he finds out you did this without him, even though he was supposed to be back already from patrols.
“Postponing it isn’t going to make it any better.” You say trying to push a confidence you don’t feel, even though it’s the truth. “Even if Garrick was here, he can’t stop everything.”
“No.” Bodhi acknowledges with the signature Riorson smirk. “That’s my department.”
You roll your eyes at his confidence but give him back a thankful look when you realize he’s trying to calm you down. Uncertainty still courses through you as you’re hesitant how your fellow cadets are going to look at you once you do this.
“Do you think anyone will think I’m just a venin in disguise after this?” The thought leaves your lips unbidden, and you bite your bottom lip trying to hold yourself together.
Bodhi turns back towards you and his eyes soften with understanding. He puts his arm around your shoulders and begins to walk towards the battle brief room while squeezing you closer to him.
“If anyone has any issues, we will take care of it. But, no, I don’t think so. At this point, I believe everyone is aware of your signet, so I wouldn’t worry too much.” He tries to assuage the doubt creeping in that everyone will now see you as the enemy. “Besides, I’m sure your scary guard dog can put anyone that may question you in their place.”
Turning your head to look at Bodhi with a raised eyebrow there’s no mistaking the mischief in his eyes. “Are you calling one of your best friends a guard dog?” You tease back and crack the first smile you’ve had all day.
“Well, if the boot fits, he should probably wear it.” The smile you’re wearing deepens as amusement dances in your eyes.
Taking a deep breath, you move from Bodhi’s arm, giving him a thanks in response, a tight nod trying to loosen the anxiety. As you head into the room, there’s no mistaking the lurking you feel in your mind as Diomat comes to stand as a silent strength, an ever-watchful sentinel.
Taking inventory of the room that you’ve come accustomed to being a student in, you can’t help but notice the difference you feel looking back at your fellow riders. Staring at each of their faces, your mind can’t help but take in the looks they give you now versus what they will be looking like in just a few moments. The dread settling like stone in your stomach.
“Ah, there she is.” You hear a male voice call from the front and look to see Brennan waving you forward.
“Before we start our brief for today, I’ve requested that Cadet L/N come and give a demonstration. Now, before she does anything, I need all riders to remember that she is not an enemy and this is just a demonstration.” Murmurs begin to break out all over the room, but you do your best to zero in on the members of your squad that are giving you looks of encouragement. The warmth and steadiness coming from the bond with Diomat growing stronger. If your continued wringing of your hands and shifting of feet is any indication, the encouragement isn’t doing much to calm your nerves.
Brennan gives a look, and everyone begins to settle once again. “Now, to prove a point, Cadet L/N, can you give an example of your signet with someone in the front of this room?”
Turning around, you take stock of the others at the front of the room with you. Every single person gives you a nod in encouragement and an idea forms in your mind. As you turn back around, you let yourself feel Diomat’s power flood through your system. Your eyes are met with the approving looks of the cadre watching you as your features morph into your intended shapes and coloring.
There’s no mistaking the ways the whispers behind you have again grown louder as you turn around to face everyone that is gathered into the space. Looking down, there isn’t much difference in what you wear, except for the rank you now don on your flight jacket and the purple hair that you can see in your peripheral vision.
“Impossible.” Someone’s voice rings out over the crowd, causing you to smirk slightly. Without asking for permission, you drop the hold on your power and let yourself settle back into your own looks.
Professor Devera steps up to your side and clasps you on the shoulder in acknowledgement before continuing. Pride shining in her eyes. “Alright, now that you’ve all seen what Cadet L/N’s signet entails, every single one of you will keep that in mind.”
“The sole purpose of this exercise is to give you an idea of the enemy you will be fighting. There are obviously good descriptions that have been given; however, that isn’t the same as encountering them during a fight.” Devera continues as her sharp gaze parses over the crowd of cadets and lieutenants.
Observing the gathered crowd yourself, you look for a certain pair of hazel eyes but still come up empty. There is however a guard giving you a warm smile that you can’t help but return when you see Fabien has also joined everyone gathered.
A hushed voice next to you draws your attention and you turn to look at Brennan. “Whenever you’re ready. Hold this one a bit longer so everyone has the time to get over their initial surprise.”
Swallowing thickly, you nod in confirmation and try to steady your heart and the frantic pace that you now find it beating. Taking a calming breath, you reach for your power again and let your mind wander back to the image of the venin from your nightmare. Every single detail burned into the back of your mind, along with the fear of the dream. Eyes staying directly in front of you, you watch as the faces around you begin to contort. Fear, hesitation, and confusion, all emotions seem to be floating across the faces of the people in front of you.
It only takes seconds for the room to break out in chaos. Shouts of malice, gasps of horror, and the clink of metal being unsheathed all greeting your ears in a cacophony of sounds.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Bodhi coming up closer to you, but you don’t miss the trepidation on his features as well. Clearly the raucousness of the crowd has him on edge. It’s that one look that proves to be the mistake.
“No!” The word barely registers before an agonizing pain erupts in your abdomen and your body begins to crumple. Trying to break the illusion proves futile when your mind is caught up in trying to register what just happened.
Sounds then erupt around you, but things keep floating in and out of focus. Your hearing starting to feel underwater, you try to register the shouting around you though everything seems too muffled.
“MOVE!” A booming male voice is the only thing that seems to break through the haze.
A rush of air ruffles your hair as a pair of arms scoops you from the stage and begins to move. A loud whimper leaves your lips as the person jostles the blade still protruding from your side. Your vision blurring with the sudden stab of pain.
Trying to get a hold of yourself, trying to settle into your mind and break the contact with Diomat’s power, but the pain keeps pulling away your concentration. A heavy coldness beginning to bloom around your body.
‘You need to control your mind, Bold One.’ Diomat’s voice comes as a command, and you focus as best you can on completing the task.
With a grunt of effort, you finally close off the power flowing through your body and sag into the pain of your wound.
“At this point I’m convinced that you’re trying to send me to Malek early.” A furious voice floats to your ears as a sharp jolt of pain rolls through you.
Feeling yourself being let down onto a hard surface, you try to curl into the wound that’s pouring blood.
“Get the fuck in here and fix her Brennan before I run out of patience with you and give you a matching wound.” The voice is low and dangerous, there’s no way to miss the fury behind the words. A lethal tone promising to fulfill the words if the command is not met.
“Look Tavis, we had things handled until you had to rush in and play hero. Don’t you know it’s better not to move stab wounds if possible.” Brennan’s tone is clear with aggravation, but you don’t focus on the conversation long.
The silence drags on as you hear footsteps coming closer, finally opening your eyes, you’re met with blazing gold orbs that are pulsing with anger and something more. His eyes are focused on you and something in your eyes must break the control that he’s trying to keep, because the next thing you know Garrick’s forehead is against yours and his hand is entwined with yours.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” He breathes, clearly fighting to keep himself together.
“You were supposed to be back before now. We couldn’t keep waiting.” Your words obviously do nothing to quell the storm, as he tightens his hold on your hand.
The next thing you know, you are letting out a sharp scream of pain as Brennan removes the dagger lodged in your abdomen.
“Just keep breathing, Y/N. The mending will be over as soon as possible.” Brennan tries to say in a calming manner, but it does nothing to help the searing pain and the metallic smell of blood that has begun to pool on the table.
A primal scream rips from your chest as the wound begins to knit itself back together, your hand tightening on Garrick’s. The pain consumes your every thought, though you can hear that he’s trying to whisper something to you.
As the pain of mending finally begins to recede, you rasp. “I’m getting really tired of being your number one patient.”
Brennan lets out a huff of a laugh, though he’s still concentrated on finalizing the mending.
“It’s not fucking funny.” Garrick is anything but amused at your quip and as you look up to him, there is no missing how ramrod straight his body is, showcasing his tension.
“I’m okay.” You say trying to quell the tempest burning in front of you.
“No, you’re not.” Garrick murmurs, his anger hasn’t left, but his words are soft. “Why do I always find you hurt and in need of mending?”
“I am a rider, you know? It’s not exactly an occupation known for its sense of safety.” You snark, while giving him a pointed look.
Garrick returns the look obviously unimpressed with everything that has happened in the last few minutes. His gaze then drags itself to where the knife was imbedded in your side, and you feel as his hand slowly caresses the new scar that you know marks your body.
Between the scars from the wyvern’s feathers, the ones from days of torture, and now all the times you’ve seemed to be the recipient of someone’s fear, the feeling of self-consciousness buries itself in you. The ugly rot of inadequacy driving its knife further into the commanding bravado you try to portray. Trying to tug down your shirt and move away, you are met with a firm hand and Garrick still staring back at you.
“What’s the matter?” Brows furrowing as he takes in the look on your face.
“I-it’s nothing.” There’s no way he believes you with the way your voice wavers.
“Obviously it’s something or you wouldn’t be trying to force your shirt down like there’s something else wrong.” Garrick responds while continuing to caress your skin.
A sigh leaves your lips as you close your eyes and try to think of anything but the truth to say to him. Upon opening your eyes back up, you notice the way his worry has grown, and he looks at you with the need to understand.
“I just – I don’t want you to see the scars. There’s just so many of them and nothing about them is beautiful. It’s just a hideous reminder of my failings.” You drop your eyes as you sit up, a quick hiss leaving your lips from the residual pain. Beginning to sway, you can’t help but hope you can push forward until you get to the safety of your room.
Swinging your legs to hang over the table, you try to scoot to the end and make your way out of the room, a sense of defeat sinking into you. Before you can stand, Garrick’s frame is in between your legs keeping you in place. A calloused hand comes up to tilt your face and you’re met with a gaze that teems with understanding and something soft you refuse to name.
“You are absolutely insane if you don’t think you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Garrick whispers as his mouth comes to the shell of your ear. “If anything, each and every scar you bear is a testament of how strong you are.”
Pulling back to stare into your eyes, he continues to murmur for only you to hear.
“All of the beauty and strength you have is more than any one man could hope to have and yet here you are. Sitting in front of me radiating strength and determination with a face more radiant than Amari.”
As he finishes his words, you can’t help but search his eyes. Of all the things you’ve heard from men before, none of them ever lauded you for your strength. Especially Garrick, as he was always a gentleman, but ever the tease.
“I don’t remember ever hearing about my supposed strength from you before.” You remark, still caught off guard by his admission.
The sardonic huff he gives in response reinforces the fact that he’d never deigned to tell you about such things before.
“I was a fool. Hell, I’m still a fool for never telling you how strong you are. How capable.” He pauses as if to collect his thoughts. “I always knew I loved you, but believing you were gone changed everything. Then seeing you after being tortured and now learning everything you’ve gone through; I’d continue to be a fool if I didn’t acknowledge how much stronger you are than I am.”
Shrinking back, you want to deflect the compliment. There was nothing strong about what you’ve done in your eyes. To you, every single thing was just a method of survival until your ultimate demise. Sensing your inability to believe his words, Garrick doesn’t press, but you know there’s more he wants to say.
“Come on. Let me get you to your room and cleaned up.” Immediately you begin to push up on your hands in order to step away from the table, yet one second later your feet are dangling in the air again.
A contented sigh leaves you lips as you let your head rest on Garrick’s chest the steady thump of his heart beginning to lull you to sleep. “I can still walk, you know.”
“I’m aware, but you were just mended and I’m here so I’m taking you to your room. Besides, you just almost bled out in front of me for the second time, I’m in need of some physical reassurance whether you like it or not.” Looking up through your lashes, you watch as Garrick’s eyes trail over your face, sure footfalls taking you straight back to your room.
The usual sense of safety provided by Garrick’s presence letting you fall into a deep sleep before you even make it to your bed.
_______
“You’ve really got that man wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?” Violet’s voice filters through behind you as you turn to face her days later.
“Not nearly as much as you have Riorson wrapped around yours.” You quip back giving her a pointed look. She looks back at you and begins to flush sheepishly as you smirk.
“Anyway…” She continues with a sliver of nervousness. “While those two are out on a patrol, I need to ask. Are you interested in doing something they would consider highly inadvisable?”
Cocking an eyebrow, you can’t help but be intrigued by her question. Of all people in this fortress, the last person you’d ever thought would ask for your help was Violet Sorrengail.
“Depends. Is it dangerous and will it piss them off?” You question a mischievous smirk painting your lips.
“Obviously. Would it be any fun if it didn’t?” Your eyes flash at her response before she continues. “Although this will require you to trust me and not tell anyone else.”
“Secrets, I can do. The trust, you’ll have to explain yourself a little more before I give that one up.” There’s no reason to mince words. You aren’t in the business of giving up your services easily, especially not if there is danger involved.
Violet goes on to explain her plan and you listen intently. There is no doubt in your mind that the minute Garrick hears anything about this he’s going to be furious, but as she finishes, you nod in agreement and both part ways going to pack for the next few days.
‘Are you always aiming to be in danger these days?’ Diomat’s amused voice floats to you.
‘Are you calling me reckless and saying you won’t take me?’ You retort, though a smile slides onto your face.
‘Of course I’m going to take you. And we both know you’ve always been reckless. Besides, when have I ever passed up the chance to create drama?’ You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter at your dragon’s response.
Hours later, in the cover of night, you are perched atop Diomat’s back heading towards enemy territory, letting your mind wander. Night air calms your tumultuous thoughts, though they continuously float back to Garrick. Though you haven’t had an exorbitant amount of time with him since arriving in Aretia, it’s obvious the ways he’s constantly trying to be around you when not out on patrols.
Every dinner he forcefully inserts himself in the space between your squad mates, whether or not he really fits in the small space. During sparring, he’s continually giving you critiques, even when he gets on your last nerve. His presence a constant even though he’s now a lieutenant.
‘You’re contemplating on if he’s really regretful or not. Why?’ Diomat questions though there is no accusation in her tone, only curiousity.
‘I don’t know if I can trust that how he acts now is the truth.’ The answer is simple, but even you feel like there’s more behind it.
‘Truthfully? Or are you just afraid that he may hurt you again?’ Diomat cuts straight through your hesitance and pulls out what you’ve really been feeling. ‘Is it worth letting the hurt fester and not let him correct his mistakes?’
You huff at your suddenly philosophical dragon. ‘It’s not that easy to just let this go. He hurt me.’
‘Yes, he did, and I will bite off his hand if that would please you. But even I know that isn’t what you want.’ Diomat confirms blandly.
‘I thought you were supposed to be on my side.’ You sass as you scrunch your nose in distaste.
‘I am always on your side, Bold One. But that also means I call you out when you’re in the way of your own happiness.’Diomat then goes quiet as you continue to mull over her words.
As you lay on your dragon’s back pondering over her words, the pull of sleep finally finds you as the sound of beating wings fill your ears, they rhythmic sound drowning out the tumult of your mind. For some reason, your dreams are filled with earnest hazel eyes and the warmth of broad arms wrapped around you.
Hours later you are woken as the air begins to warm and the scent of salt wafts through the breeze.
‘Welcome to Cordyn, Bold One.’ Diomat confirms as you begin to question your coordinates.
As your eyes adjust to the light, you squint into the distance at the shock of white that pours from the tall building in front of you. Not a building, but the most majestical palace that you’ve ever seen. Your eyes widen at the opulence that radiates from every pore.
‘Seems they aren’t concerned about battle.’ You muse as you take in the gardens, pools, and extensively large columns.
‘No, this is not a city concerned with the mundane colors of battle. Everything built here was strictly for appeasing the eyes.’ Diomat states, clear judgment in her tone.
‘We have an escort. Tairn has confirmed that Marbh will lead the riot, and his rider will handle the talking.’
You hum in an accepting response as gryphons begin to flank the riot that you are flying in the back of. It isn’t the first time in this trip that you feel slightly out of place between the Sorrengail siblings.
As soon as Diomat touches down, you slide from her leg and give a thankful pat before she is airborne again. Walking up to the rest of the group, you scan the courtyard with sharp eyes before being stopped by a line of fliers.
Commanding you to give a truth before gaining admittance and you quirk an eyebrow as you listen to the exchange, holding back a laugh at the older female Sorrengail’s response. As the flier’s gaze rests on you, you take a moment to consider before replying as well.
“I’m here at the behest of Cadet Sorrengail for my assistance.” A smirk painting your face as you stare back unflinchingly.
“Truth. Welcome to Cordyn.” The flier answers as he gestures towards the palace.
As the crowd parts, you let yourself take in the structure, eye immediately rising to the paned glass that spills out in all directions. For every ounce of fortress that is Riorson House, this is its absolute opposite in every way. It isn’t until you hear the siblings speaking in front of you that you bring your head down and your eyes meet none other than Xaden Riorson’s.
You snicker as you come to stand next to Violet. “Good Luck Sorrengail.”
As you begin to walk forward, you feel a tug on your arm and turn to see an unamused face. “Oh no, you don’t. As it is I’m going to get my ass handed to me for you being here, so you may as well start sticking to Violet like glue from this point until we leave.”
“The wingleader voice isn’t going to work on me.” You sass back at Xaden, who is looking at you like you’re insane.
“I don’t care what works on you or not. You are going to follow my directions, because it’s now my job to keep my best friend’s girl safe and I’m not taking any chances.” He barks sternly; fury laden in every word. “With either of you.”
He finishes as he looks to both you and Violet. Violet has the good sense to give you a remorseful look before you find yourself being led by Xaden with Violet to his other side.
You tune out the conversation around you as your aggravation at the man next to you grows. It isn’t until he begins issuing the warning of your safety that you tune back in.
“Of all the reckless, idiotic things you could’ve brought her into, did you have to bring Y/N with you?” Xaden asks clearly annoyed with Violet.
“Speaking of, aren’t you on the same squad as Garrick? Why exactly didn’t you just tell him to join you?” The questions slip past before you can think better of it.
Xaden turns to you giving you a pointed look. “Firstly, I was hoping Sgaeyl was wrong. Secondly, the last thing I need is Garrick making another scene if things go sideways with you.”
“Oh, because you are so well known for your own restraint when your precious Violence is in danger.” The quip lands as Xaden glares at you, clearly unamused.
Indignation fires through your veins as you begin to stomp away from the group. Though you are stopped in your tracks when a man dressed in a midnight blue tunic is standing in front of you like he’s a king surveying his subjects.
“Ah, here are our guests.” He says, his tone silky and slightly disconcerting.
You let yourself melt into the back of the group, weighing your ability to make good choices once again. Eyes constantly scanning your surroundings as you walk, you can’t help but take in the beauty of the gardens, flowers and plant you’ve never seen before peppered in every corner of the manicured lawns.
As soon as the obvious owner of the palace stops speaking, you begin to follow the group again. Your mind is stuck in a sense of wonder as you take in the white marble and richly appointed furnishings, opulence dripping from ceiling to floor. Before long, you feel Mira pulling you into a bedroom as Violet and Xaden continue to bicker behind you.
“Please tell me being with Tavis isn’t like that all the time.” Mira questions as she clearly is debating her sister’s relationship choices and you let yourself laugh at her clear disgust.
Giving her a thoughtful look, you let yourself reflect momentarily. “No, he’s just as protective, but less intense I suppose. Before war games, he never really challenged my abilities, but since leaving Basgiath, he’s been a little ridiculous in his protection goals.”
Turning back, she gives you a considering look. “Oh yes, you’re the one he thought was dead.”
At the comment, you can’t help but flinch a little even though she’s quick to correct herself.
“I just meant I can understand getting more protective, considering he thought he lost you and then found you for you only to be unconscious and beaten.” Saying it so matter-of-factly makes it seem more like a slap to the face than you’d thought, but Mira turns before continuing. “If it were me, I’d probably do the same.”
The conversation is broken as Violet strides into the room and slams the door causing you both to turn.
“Let’s get this fucking over with.” Violet says striding towards the dresses in the corner of the room. You turn to Mira and you both look at each other with raised eyebrows, obviously clocking the argument that just took place between the two lovebirds.
You pick a simple black satin gown, the material flowing like liquid down your form, but you don’t let yourself revel in the feeling. The only reason you’re here is to utilize your powers to help retrieve the luminary. Before the three of you step out of the door, both Mira and Violet stand in front of you, and you take in every single detail in their dresses.
As you file out of the bedroom being led by a girl that you can’t remember the name of, you stay silent. Conversation drifts around you as you continually scan your surroundings and the people in it, taking in every detail you can. As you get closer, you pull on Diomat’s power and let it slowly trickle into your body and hope that the plan will work as seamlessly as Violet had proposed.
Entering the formal patio, you watch as Xaden steps up to Violet and you stand slightly off to their side with Mira. When a wall of shadow is erected around the couple, you turn to Mira and snort at the appalled look on her face. Shadows finally falling back into place, Viscount Tecarus slides up to the couple and stands directly in front of them. Undoubtedly, they are the entertainment for the evening whether for good or evil on the part of the Poromish, you are unsure.
As the viscount explains exactly what he is expecting of Violet, Xaden motions you to move forward as Tecarus continues to speak. Without looking at you, you hear his words float to your ears.
“I assume that there is some kind of plan you both had.” Xaden states as if he knows exactly why you’re here.
“Of course, and now it should be even easier.” You whisper continuing to look forward. “When Violet heads down to the arena, cover her in shadow and she’s going to search the library. I’ll be headed down to the arena.”
“How are you going to replicate her signet.” He asks, clearly unsure of what is about to happen.
“That is where you get to watch and find out.” At that answer Xaden turns his head to you and you smirk back.
“I’ll be going with her.” You hear Mira confirm to Tecarus, before you walk up next to Violet’s side.
“I’ll make sure she gets to the steps.” You say nonchalantly and begin pulling her arm along.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Violet whispers as you begin walking towards the pit.
“I guess we’ll find out.” You comment before turning to look at the crowd behind you. From what you can tell, the only person looking at you is Xaden, so you take the time to change your appearance. Mira’s gaze jumps between you and Violet, giving a small shake to her head before grabbing your arm.
“Be quick Violet.” Mira says as you begin descending the steps with her. Violet disappearing into the crowd. “Tell me you have the same daggers as she had on her now.”
“Why? Are you afraid dear sister?” You chuckle, even though it’s all out of nerves. She gives you an unamused look as you both settle to the floor of the arena.
As you scan the area, there is nothing but grassy earth all around the oval arena. The walls around stand as high as Diomat and are nothing but dull grey stone as if any variation in tone has been leached from the boulders. Continuing with your observations, grunts and heavy footfalls seem to be coming from a door that looks as if it was hewn from the wall itself.
In the next few moments there’s a large chest being hauled by two guards and you can’t hide the confusion on your face. Your mind clicks as you realize this must be the target that Tecarus was referring to, though the intricate piece of furniture seems an odd thing to destroy. One guard comes forward some kind of mechanism twisting in his hands and when he raises it to a hole of the same shape in the doors of the chest, something clicks causing the doors to swing open.
With a loud clang, a body falls to the ground, your eyes widen as realization comes slamming in. Your mind screaming danger and legs willing you to run as fast as you possibly can.
Venin.
‘DIOMAT!’ Screaming down your bond, you try to breathe and think through a semblance of a plan. Never once in the few times you discussed the plan with Violet did the possibility of a venin joining in cross either of your minds.
‘Focus, Bold One. You must focus. I’m on my way.’ Diomat tries to assure you as you watch the venin tear his body from the ground and lurch with unnatural speed to the nearest guard, unceremoniously draining the life from him in seconds.
“Shit!” You yell as you feel for the sheathes on your legs. Looking down, you’re thankful to find at least one alloyed dagger on Violet. Before you can even unsheathe it, you see a gleam of metal fly in your peripherals.
“Don’t!” You say as Mira throws one of her daggers towards the venin, a moment too late in your warning. He easily dodges it and picks it up turning the tip on both of you.
“My, My. My Sage will be more than happy for me to bring you back dear mirror.” The male rasps as his eyes focus on you. “You’ve just started to tap into your power. It will be astonishing to see where this power lies.”
“Over my dead body!” You retort as a noxious smile spreads on the venin’s face. Slowly, your feet begin to back away, your elbow prodding at Mira back towards the stairs.
“That can certainly be arranged.” He confirms as his hands fall to the arena floor. Your eyes fly wide, and you finally turn to Mira pushing her towards the stairs.
“RUN! Get to the stairs now!” You yell as you try to run as fast as you can. Running as swiftly as your legs will carry you, you don’t let yourself look back. Legs begin to tangle in your skirts as you try to kick up your pace. Power beginning to crackle under your skin, the flood of Diomat’s influence coming as never before.
Trying to calculate the best area to strike, you pull the alloyed dagger you have. Estimating the force and distance in your mind, you pinch the tip of the dagger and throw at the same time two additional ones hit the field of the arena. Turning you see that your aim was slightly off, and you caught the venin in the arm, not enough to kill him, but the alloy is obviously affecting his ability to channel from the ground.
Relief is minimal as the realization of the amount he was able to drain in such a small period of time.
As you look up, you see Violet running around the side of the arena, clearly trying to find a place to wield without being caught. You continue pushing Mira, the steps finally coming into clear view.
‘Tairn is following the Silver One’s plan. Be ready to be grabbed.’ Diomat’s words hit you at the same time as a large talon wraps around your waist and lifts.
Not even a second later, the entire field lights up with bolts of lightning so bright the small hairs of your arms feel singed, and you must squeeze your eyes shut against the brightness. As you are flown away from the arena, you let your disguise drop and look up to realize that the talons you are in are not Diomat’s, but Tairn’s.
Minutes later you are being lowered to the marble patio and let yourself crumple to the floor. Footsteps rushing towards you, looking up you are met with two sets of similar worried eyes.
“Are you alright?” Violet asks as she tries to help you stand from the floor. You look back to her and shake your head in confirmation, too shocked to form words.
Brennan quickly follows as he steps up next to his sister. “She may be alright, but we have other problems.”
As he finishes speaking, you let Violet grab your arm and tug you to your feet. Stepping back towards the balcony, every one of you stops as you are brought face to face with another issue. Shadows pour from different areas of the palace and writhe only to converge in one place. As you examine their target, your eyes fly wide to find Viscount Tecarus hoisted by the shadows with a furious Xaden standing in front of him.
Violet immediately breaks from the group rushing to Xaden’s side. She doesn’t say anything to him out loud, but he turns in her direction as she touches his arm. Two seconds later, he turns to you, looking you up and down as if checking every inch of you for injuries.
“I’m not sure which one of you is worse.” Mira says shaking her head looking between you and Violet. “I’m almost certain the two of you are trying to give Riorson and Tavis an aneurism.”
You give her a deadpanned look before speaking. “This was all your sister’s idea, thank you very much. I’m not usually in the market to sign my own death warrant, contrary to all the recent events. And I certainly didn’t sign up for another round of hovering from Garrick.”
Mira huffs a laugh at your response before you both turn back to the situation unfolding in front of you. As Brennan and Violet finally calm Xaden and the decision is made to retire and change, you go to turn but are instantaneously stopped by a band of shadow.
“You aren’t going to keep this from Garrick.” Xaden sternly states as he walks up next to your side. You open your mouth to protest, but Xaden cuts you off. “You’re going to tell him all about your escapades and this is the last time the two of you make any more ridiculous plans.”
“This is the first time this has even been a decision I’ve made, dear Lieutenant Riorson.” Your fury at constantly being the reception of ire between him and Garrick snapping the thread on your nerves tight. “The last few times were at the directives of yourself, the Lieutenant Colonel, and an action that I wasn’t even a part of, so don’t lecture me on my decisions.”
The look on his face brooks no room for argument, though the last place you are going to get into a fight with him is in front of a room of gryphon fliers. With your foot put down, you turn and immediately head back to the room that you got dressed in, not interested in speaking to any of your companions at this point.
Choosing not to participate in the negotiations and having to deal with the shadow wielding asshole and his reckless partner any longer, you let yourself relax on the bed until all your companions have left the room. As soon as the voices begin to disappear in the hallway, you spring up and pull on Diomat’s power again.
Taking a moment to remember the details of one of the fliers that was close to Tecarus, you let the form settle over you before you step out of the room. Now disguised in a flowing red gown and long dark locks, you let yourself float through the hallways, pulling on memory to return to one of the gardens outside the fortress. As you descend the stairs, you let yourself breathe in the night air, aromas of roses and jasmine penetrating the saltiness of the sea air.
Meandering slowly and absorbing the air, your fingers begin tracing the buds of the flowers that seem to spring out of every single space in the perfectly manicured garden. Trellises entangled with vines of night jasmine have every single one of your senses calming. It isn’t until you hear the crunch of gravel that you realize how much you’ve let your mind wander.
Spinning around, you are met with a face you’ve never seen before, and your senses rise as you realize you are masquerading as a woman whose name you don’t even know.
“I’m surprised to find you out here while Riorson is still inside.” You can’t help the uptick of your eyebrow at the statement. Whoever you are mimicking has apparently been entangled with the man you were trying to get away from.
You shrug your shoulders and move to walk away. The minute any words leave your mouth there will be no way to mask the fact that you aren’t really the girl this man thinks you are.
“Come on, Cat. Can’t you just give me a chance.” You glance back at the man still calling out, but let your strides lengthen before hiding behind a manicured hedge of a gryphon. Warily, you let Diomat’s power drop and let your form settle back on your own, relishing in the comfort of your flight leathers and move to the next garden.
“I think your specialty must be doing things you aren’t supposed to.” Brennan’s voice floats to your ears as you study the wings of a butterfly that landed directly in your path.
“No one said I couldn’t walk the gardens.” You snap back, though there is no heat behind your words. “People just seem to enjoy dragging me into deathly predicaments and I have to get myself out somehow. I’m not usually the one getting myself into them.”
“No, but you should know better than to just go wandering in enemy territory.” You instinctively bristle at Brennan’s chiding tone.
“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I needed a semblance of peace after that lovely performance that I was forced to participate in. Not to mention Riorson getting on my last nerve.” You snark though you don’t miss Brennan’s slight chuckle at your jab at Xaden.
“Either way, I need to escort you back. We are leaving in just a little bit.” Brennan explains while motioning you to lead the way.
“I assume that you accomplished what you came here to do?” You question as you fall into stride with him.
“Yes, thanks to both you and Violet, the luminary will be coming back with us – along with a hundred flier cadets.” Brennan confirms. As the words hit your ears, your steps falter as you look sideways at the older man.
“Did you just say flier cadets?” You ask in amazement, though its more from the audacity of the thought.
“Yes. That is part of the negotiations.” The tone he uses confirms that everything is finalized, but you’re anything but convinced.
“You seriously think that an entire fortress of riders is going to welcome fliers with open arms? Were you dropped on your head as a child? Or was it the nearly dying that did your head in?” There is absolutely no way that Brennan thinks this could possibly be a good idea. You shake your head at the cheek of this ask.
“Both riders and fliers will just have to get over it. If we don’t work together, there is no way we are winning against the venin.” His tone is flat, one of command that seems to think there is no way this won’t work.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but I also think this is going to be more of an issue than you realize.” Without waiting for a response, you let yourself back into the room and grab your pack before walking back to Brennan.
No one speaks as you all begin your walk out of the palace and back to your dragons. The tension between the siblings and Riorson heavy enough to cut with a knife, so you let yourself relax on Diomat’s back and try to let your mind settle for whatever you are going to have to face when you arrive back in Aretia.
Hours later, you’re blearily blinking your eyes trying to hold off on sleeping until you can collapse into the warmth and security of your own bed. Before Diomat can even touch down, you are rising from your seat and grasping at the familiar scales, dismounting from her foreleg. Between the length of your flight and weariness, you don’t want to wait any longer than you must for the others.
It seems everyone is eager to be back at the fortress though, because not even a minute later, you hear the strides of your companions right behind you.
“Riorson!” A booming voice calls as you are walking back towards the fortress, a shiver of realization of who the voice belongs to hits you right before the strike.
Of all the things you expected coming back to Aretia from Cordyn, the last thing you figured would be Garrick’s fist colliding directly with Xaden’s face. You finally get a good look at Garrick’s face and murderous intent is plastered plainly there, in the direction of his best friend.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Garrick continues to challenge Xaden as the two have now turned to face each other. You can tell Xaden is trying not to react, but that doesn’t stop the irritation on his face and the way his fists clench.
“Garrick, it wasn’t Xaden. He only came after Sgaeyl alerted him.” Violet tries to placate the situation, but it’s obvious that Garrick is more than keyed up after the incidents you’ve had with Xaden recently.
“You don’t see me putting the woman you love in constant fucking danger, do you?” You watch as the vein in his jaw feathers, displaying how hard he is clenching his teeth to keep himself in check.
Not waiting on what’s going to happen, you walk up to the rage-filled man and pull him down by the collar of his flight leathers. The sudden movement jerks his face to yours, but since he wasn’t expecting it, his fingers dig into your arms in defense as you bite back a whimper of pain.
Realization hitting his golden eyes, Garrick immediately drops his hands and the malice that was shining there a moment before turns to sorrow. His eyes begin darting around your face looking for injuries and a moment later you are plastered against his chest.
“Why is it always you?” Garrick breathes into your hair.
“I think you’ve asked me that already.” You snicker back even though you’re more than aware the man whose chest your head rests on is not amused.
Unceremoniously, you find yourself being pulled by your arm away from the group and towards the small garden in the front of Riorson House. Garrick doesn’t speak, his body tight with tension, as he leads you to the bench and forcefully plops you down onto it.
Your lips thin as you look up at him in clear aggravation, eyes tracking him as he takes large strides, pacing back and forth in front of you. Though the look morphs when suddenly he is letting out a laugh as he stops facing the cliffs in the distance, your brows drawing in at his reactions.
On a dime, he swivels, his face directly in front of your own as he crashes down to his knees. Taken aback, you startle as his eyes bore directly back into yours.
“Are you insistent on sending me to meet Malek early? This is the second time I’ve come back to Aretia from a patrol and found you in some ludicrous situation.” His tone shifts as he continues, rising and going back to packing in front of you.
“In all of our time at Basgiath, you were never this difficult.” As the words escape his mouth, you vision turns to red. Your eyes flash, gaze cutting directly up to the hazel ones that can’t seem to stay in one spot.
“I didn’t ask for this!” You rise, along with the tone of your voice, indignation coating every word. “If I remember correctly, it was because of you! Your involvement in this rebellion, your involvement in stealing weapons that ended me up on the cadre’s bad side.”
This time it is Garrick’s turn to have his features turn, clearly displaying he didn’t dissect his words before letting them spill from his mouth. The regretful look he’s giving doing nothing to calm the ire that’s built after all these months.
“Then, I get tortured as fucking bait, because of YOU!” The hold you’ve had on your temper has long since left and you let your words fly, not caring if they cut or how deeply. “I end up being almost choked to death, because the Aretian leadership wanted to see my signet, by your fucking best friend no less. Showed my signet because I was asked, and then I get sliced in the side because the riders in this semblance of a college are just scared children.”
“And finally, the girl that you all seem to trip over your two feet for, drags me into her plans and I almost get fucking drained by a venin. All because a sadistic Viscount wants revenge on your same best friend who almost killed me.” Anger coursing through your veins like a wildfire, you finally shut your mouth and look back at the insufferable man in front of you.
Garrick looks back at you, his muscles coiled so tight it looks like he’s vibrating. His eyes blaze with fury with your last statement, the normal soft color gone to give way to one that is hard and unyielding. You stand there, silent, breath coming in short pants, your body coiled and ready to fly at a moment's notice. Your voice becomes nearly silent as you continue.
“You’ve had every opportunity to confide in me. To include me in your plans, your life, the inner workings of this rebellion, but have you?” You let yourself quiet as you stare back into Garrick’s eyes. There’s no mistaking the plethora of emotions that he seems to be having trouble parsing through.
“I know.” The admission is soft, a quiet breeze that barely floats to your ears. “I know that I’ve failed you. I know that I haven’t given you the knowledge you crave, the knowledge you deserve and for that I’m sorry.”
Garrick reaches out his hand and tugs on yours, fingers wrapping tightly around before clamping down tightly. A touch that grounds both of you, keeping you in the present. For a long moment, he stands there, a constant gaze staring right back into your eyes. There’s no waver, no hesitation in his eyes, but as you try to withdraw your hand, he holds on tightly, not willing to let go.
“I never thought Zinhal or Loial would bless me with someone, especially not a woman like you.” As Garrick continues, you let yourself take a deep breath, willing the anger back to a manageable level. “At seventeen, I watched as my father was burned for his role as Fen Riorson’s right hand. Experiencing that was devastating enough to a teenage boy who saw his father as his own personal hero.”
Stopping his story, you hear the shaky breath that Garrick takes before bringing his gaze back to yours. “But what truly broke me, was when my mother be executed at our home not even a day later.”
The silence that followed his statement was deafening, not even the breeze dared to break it. You could only stare back at the man who you had always seen as unbreakable, a pinnacle of strength.
“They had captured all the leaders, but for those not participating in an active role, they toyed with them, with us. Letting us all believe that we wouldn’t lose those people as well.” Garrick turns; his gaze set firmly on the mountain range in the distance. “Until noon the next day when an entire squad of infantry broke through the door of our home and dragged my mother to the courtyard. I was in the back of the house, trying to pull together firewood when I heard the screaming. I wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t even get to tell her goodbye, didn’t get to tell her how much I loved her.”
“Once I got to the front of the house, I was left with an image that will haunt me forever. My mother’s body laying in the courtyard, blood pooling around her, lifeless and still.” Searching Garrick’s face, you had never seen him look so tormented, as if the darkness was beginning to swallow him whole. “I can still feel her blood seep through the knees of my pants when I knelt next to her and cried, screaming for her not to leave me behind. I don’t know how long I stayed that way. By the time I came back to myself, the sun had set in the sky, and I was alone, cradling my mother’s dead body with no answers. No one to come and tell me things would get better, only the bitter realization that I was truly alone.”
You don’t know when it happened, but suddenly you realize there are two streaks of warm tears freely falling down your face. Grabbing onto Garrick’s hand, you try to coax him out of the trance that he’s fallen into, gently pulling him towards the bench that rests ten steps away. He follows blindly, eyes never leaving the hollow stare into the distance.
Reaching the bench, you stand on top of it, dropping Garrick’s hand and moving your own to his face, slowly turning his towards you. With both hands gripping his face tightly, you look back at the man in front of you as agony so sharp winds around your heart and squeezes. His eyes are still vacant, the buried emotions trapped deeply inside, the only guaranteed protection in life and a childhood no one should have to experience.
Slowly he blinks and the expressive eyes that you’ve grown so fond of look back at you again, his head leaning into your touch. His hands come to your hips as he slowly steps closer, winding around you and pulling your body flush to his chest.
“When I saw you at parapet, it was like a switch was flipped, the darkness that had reigned in my mind gave way to light. It made no sense. I didn’t know you; you were just another one of the hundreds of cadets I saw walk through the rider’s quadrant. But as the days and months wore on, my entire orbit seemed to revolve around you.”
As he continued, you let your thumbs stroke his cheeks, your fingers bringing him back from the darkness of his own memories. “Then when the alarms sounded for war games and our directive was to Athebyne, I couldn’t do it. Xaden offered me the option to take you, but I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t. The minute I thought about it, instead of my mother’s blood being spilt on the ground, it was yours… and i – it terrified me.”
Time seemed to stop having any semblance of meaning. You both stared back at each other, your vision unwavering. Without pretense, you let your head drop, your forehead leaning on Garrick’s, though your thumbs didn’t stop their incessant stroking. You heard and felt the shuddering breath that left Garrick’s lungs, a force of emotions that had been trapped inside of him far too long. Moments after, the hot stain of tears started to flow between your fingers.
“So, I took the coward’s way out, I told you a flippant lie that I figured I could apologize for after war games were over.” A sardonic huff left his mouth as his eyes closed, halting the stream of tears. “Flying back, I was so happy. I thought I made the right decision, until we landed, and it was as if a knife lodged in my throat, and nothing would pull it out.”
“All I could see was the picture of you as my mother. Bleeding to death on the field where I’d never be able to reach you. Where I would never make it to save you.” He closes his eyes once more, as if the weight of the words were too heavy.
“Do you know I went to Eltuval before reporting to Samara?” He questioned as you shook your head, still attached to him. “I made Chradh stay there for an entire day while I searched for you. I scoured every single ounce of perimeter and of course found nothing.”
“I will never be able to apologize enough for all the ways that I’ve hurt you, my family has hurt you, or the way you’ve had to be wrapped up in things you didn’t get to make the decision for. But I never once, want you to ever believe that I wouldn’t set every single thing to flame just to make sure that you are safe. That you are still breathing and happy.”
“My reasoning may not make up for everything you’ve gone through, but I need you to know that every single decision I’ve made regarding you is because I love you. I love you so fucking much that every time I think I’ve lost you, I think a little bit of my soul dies along with yours.” Your breath catches, every piece of you unsure of how to process all these new revelations.
“I never meant to control your agency.” Garrick tries to pull himself away, but your hold on his face is unwavering.
“Yes, you did.” You state back, matter-of-factly. “But now I know why you did. I just wish you would’ve trusted me with this information sooner, even if for no other reason than understanding.”
You finally pull yourself back and step off the bench, slowly depositing yourself onto it. You tap the bench next to you in direction for Garrick to sit. He wastes no time and sits down next to you, but before you can speak again, he pulls you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms slide around your waist and takes a shuddering breath before burying his face in your hair.
You let your head fall to his and his hold tightens pulling you impossibly closer. Settling into Garrick’s grasp, you let yourself melt into the arms of the man holding you, all while letting your mind race on how to move forward. Everyone knew of the horrific deaths of those involved in the Apostasy, but hearing about how Garrick lost his mother, your heart hurts for the man that has you plastered to him.
Is there any lifetime in which he will be able to let go of the nightmare he’s lived? The nightmare that they all had to live with.
You let yourself turn in his grasp and let your arms drape over his shoulders in a crushing hug, your face moving to the crook of his neck. If nothing else ever blossoms between you both, that doesn’t mean you will let Garrick face his feelings alone. In the quiet of the garden around you, the promise to be his shelter from the storm of emotions and life solidifies in your mind. Never again will you let this man be left abandoned.
________
The next days bring their own challenges besides just your relationship with Garrick. You finally seem to find your place in Aretia. The members of your squad that defected from Navarre and Fabien keeping your mind occupied when the darkness threatens to pull you under. Between your own torture and then learning of Garrick’s experiences, your brain had been conjuring ideas that had kept you more than awake the last few days.
The weight of exhaustion pulls heavy on your limbs as you stand at the bottom of the Medaro Pass with the rest of the cadets. As much as you wanted to rail at the situation, the exhaustion pulling on you kept you silent.
‘This entire situation is ridiculous. You have no reason to be on that pass with the rest of the cadets that haven’t proven themselves like you have.’ There was no way to shield from the displeasure that Diomat voiced. In fact, she had been mumbling her discontent with the situation for the last few days.
‘Every single cadet is here. For some reason the great Aisereigh seems to think this will be a bonding exercise.’ You wanted to roll your eyes, but even your eyelids were tired.
Trudging forward, you did everything you could to keep your eyes forward and focused on the path laid out in front of you. Lightly stepping to the edge of the trail, you took a chance looking over the side and your eyes went wide at the sharp drop that you’d experience if you took one step to the right. Shaking your head and the thought of falling from the cliffs, you looked back forward trying to focus on the obstacle in front of you.
At least you tried until a sharp screech rent the air. Blood running cold, there was no way to mistake the creature that was about to be flying above. The sound of the piercing screech branded into your memories.
‘Looks like there’s a guest we need to entertain.’ You purr to Diomat, your energy perking up, along with adrenaline.
‘I believe Tairn’s rider thinks she will handle the situation.’ Diomat relays, but you can tell by her tone that she won’t let your talent be assuaged.
Glancing further down the trail, your eyes fly wide as you see the ruckus that has broken out. You don’t miss the bloodied snow and the tears streaming from a few faces.
‘Well, she may want to, but she looks a little busy currently. Let’s show her how it’s done without the light show.’ Diomat hums in agreement and out of the corner of your eye you see her unmistakable form coming towards you.
Swinging your gaze left and right, you move as far back on the trail as you can and then sprint, jumping off the side of the pass. Letting the cacophony of screams and shouts drown out from your ears, you narrow your gaze and focus on the large wyvern circling the precarious position of your fellow riders.
‘Ready?’ You question Diomat as you begin to pull on the well of your power.
‘Always.’ Diomat confirms as she begins to climb in altitude bringing you closer to the wyvern, wings tucked tight in a burst of power.
Opening her maw, Diomat lets a warning stream of fire flame into the path of wyvern’s next sweep. Suddenly distracted by the movement, the grey beast changes course and begins its swift course of interception, straight at Diomat’s neck. Wasting no time, you let your appearance change swiftly disguising yourself, again masquerading as the venin you want the beast to believe you are.
‘On the next dip Bold One.’ Diomat orders and you rise to your feet and edge towards her foreleg.
In the next moment you are airborne, alloyed dagger gripped firmly in your hand, biting wind whipping your changed form with a ferocious bite. This time you don’t let your eyes close as you drop onto the unnaturally smooth back of the grey beast, a familiarity that causes you to shiver in rememberance. The wyvern must register your landing as it begins to thrash, sensing its intentions, you don’t let it buck you before slamming the dagger into its already scarred side. Learning from your previous mistake, you immediately begin to slide down the side of the wyvern’s body without hesitation. The rush of winter clouds begins to fly past you, the cold moisture settling into your bones as you are freefalling back towards the cliffside.
Before you can even register the rocky terrain clearly, familiar scales are beneath your feet and you crouch to absorb the impact of landing in the middle of Diomat’s back. As soon as you are stable, you let yourself move to her seat and set yourself down firmly. Closing your eyes for a moment, you force out a heavy breath, rife with the sweetness of victory and bitter taste of memory. As the adrenaline begins to crash, you feel all your limbs turn limp, the rush of the attack still fresh in your mind.
‘You did well, Bold One. And without the dramatics of the lightning wielder.’ You don’t try to stop the laugh that bubbles out of you at Diomat’s slight of Violet.
‘There’s not always a need for a flare of dramatics, but I’m unsure if Riorson and Sorrengail know that.’ You quip back between laughter, a knowing look lighting your eyes at their shared flare for drama.
Turning, you lock eyes with Brennan Sorrengail, and he gives you a nod in thanks for the assistance.
‘Marbh’s rider has confirmed he wants us to continue monitoring the skies. I hope you’re interested in some solo flight time.’ Diomat smirks with a sense of satisfaction pouring from her side of the bond.
‘I’d love nothing more.’ You reply, though there is no way to keep the smirk off your face.
The remainder of the trek is uneventful, in the air at least, but you take the time to enjoy the feeling of freedom and solitude. The days and nights of constant noise and other people having drained you in ways you never realized. As night begins to fall and the final cadets make their way inside of Riorson House, you breathe a sigh of relief, a thankful sense of safety settling in your bones as everyone is decisively past this hurdle. You know that things will only get more difficult with the fliers, but for the time you relish in the steady presence of your dragon and the fact that you will get the chance to fight another day.
____________
Settling into the rhythm of classes again proves to be harder than you thought. Every class you stepped into was a bubbling cauldron of tension, always one slip from boiling over. Riders and fliers constantly at each other’s throats proved less than ideal for a learning environment of any kind. The only thing you were thankful for is that you didn’t have to be involved in the mess that was Sorrengail’s squad as they seemed to bear the brunt of the fliers’ disdain.
At least that is what you thought until the professors decided that just having the fliers sitting in the same room wasn’t enough. A sour look crawled onto your face as you learned of the fliers that would soon be joining the ranks of your squad. It wasn’t that you had anything against these specific people, but you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy transition.
Especially since they would be out for blood considering the news of the challenges that would take place the day before all the squads were merged.
Waking up that day you didn’t think anything of the coming challenges. Hand to hand had ceased to be a major point of concern since you had started training with Garrick and then continued to challenge yourself with multiple opponents after he graduated.
Entering the sparring gym, there was no way to miss the buzz in the air, a scent somewhere between fear and bloodlust permeating from every single person. Taking stock of everyone gathered there was no way to miss the nervous energy in the small space, people shifting back and forth, the sound of steel being sheathed and unsheathed in nervous habit, sweat soaked brows permanently etched with concentration and revulsion.
“Y/N L/N versus Vanessa Nash.” Devera shouted from the front of the room.
You turned and looked towards the mat and quirked an eyebrow as a female flier cadet stared at you. Confusion pulled on you again as you watched the girl that was obsessed with Riorson whisper something in her ear. Looking back at your squad, all you received were the same looks of confusion.
“Go give her a run for her money. Show her who’s the real boss in this fortress.” You turned back to your best friend and gave him a huff of a laugh, the smirk pulling at your lips showing your confidence in his words.
As you stepped up to the mat, there was no way to miss the way your opponent’s eyes flared with anger as if she was privy to some type of information you didn’t know.
“That’s the best you’ve got? I would’ve thought Garrick would’ve gone for someone accomplished at hand to hand.” Your eyes flew wide as you continued to settle into your fighting stance, though you couldn’t help but fight the confusion. How did this girl know Garrick? His name drifting from her lips with a sense of intimacy that made you uncomfortable.
Before you even had a chance to register and dissect her words, she was lunging. It didn’t catch you off guard though, you knew better than to let words distract you in a fight.
“I’m not sure Garrick’s preference in hand-to-hand skills has anything to do with who he decides to spend his time with.” You retort, though your mind can’t help but feel sluggish suddenly, a haze seeming to fall over your thoughts. Slipping past her lunge, you backed up a few steps letting her dictate the pace.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll remember soon enough who he’d rather spend his down time with.” The flier continues to taunt, but you can’t help but scoff at her though feelings at the edge of you mind seem tamped down, as if everything isn’t as sharp as usual.
‘Reinforce your shields. Now.’ Diomat’s commanding voice cuts through your hazy thoughts and you shake your head trying to clear the fog.
Before you can rebalance yourself, your head swings to the side, pain blooming along your jaw as your opponent takes advantage of your distraction. Taking a few steps back, you take a breath and reinforce your shields, settling back into a fighting stance.
“I’m not sure where your obsession comes from, but if you want to monopolize his time, be my guest. I’m not going to fight you over a man. We aren’t together and if that’s what he chooses, then fine.” As if your words were a taunt, Vanessa lets out a frustrated scream before she’s lunging for you again.
Bringing your right arm up to block, you take the hit on your forearm, but don’t waste the opportunity and sweep her legs out from under her. As soon as she hits the mat, you drive your knee into her back and trap her arms, letting her squirm as you tighten your hold and bring your mouth close to her ear.
“Do not mistake me for someone easily cowed by others, if you are jealous, then take that up with Garrick. But know this, he is not something to be owned, he makes his own decisions, if you disrespect his choices, I will show you how good at hand-to-hand I can be.” You challenge before bringing your face back up to look at the others gathered around you.
As soon as you hear Devera call the match in your favor, you release your opponent and step back, never giving her your back. Though apparently the control she exhibits is non-existent as she gets up and immediately charges towards you. Without missing a beat, you pull the dagger you had kept on you and bring it directly up to her neck.
“I’ll give you one more chance to back the fuck off before I let your blood spill.” You purr, the threat heavy in your voice. “I’m not scared of you or any of your companions, but I can promise that if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to use every tool I have to make you miserable.”
Vanessa looks back at you, eyes flashing with fear and anger, clearly expecting you to be some meek opponent and surprised to be wrong. She lets out a frustrated huff before one of her squad mates tugs on her arm, pulling her in the direction of the other fliers.
Suddenly you notice the quiet that has seemed to take over the entirety of the mat around you. Turning to your squad, you can’t help but quirk an eyebrow in question.
“Gods, its good to have you back. We missed your brand of fire a little too much.” You can’t help the smile that cracks your features, though you wince as the bruise on your jaw pulls.
As your squad leaves the rest of the challenges behind, you are caught in the sea of bodies trying to move between rooms in the fortress. A hand begins to tug you towards a door and thinking it’s a member of your squad; you follow the tug but are surprised when a familiar hulking frame finally comes into view.
“Did you need something Lieutenant Tavis?” Garrick turns and the warmth in his eyes is a welcome reprieve to the hostility that has seemed to be in them previously.
“What happened?” He asks as he finally seems to clock the new bruise that you are sporting.
“Hmm, maybe you can enlighten me.” You let your tone change to a challenge, interested to see exactly how Garrick will react to your next words. “Fliers and Riders were able to challenge each other today and I was challenged by a flier. You wouldn’t have anything going on with someone named Vanessa, now, would you?”
Garrick’s face pales instantly, all the blood draining from his coloring, and his lips pursing as if tasting something sour.
Clocking the reaction, your eyes flash. “So, are you going to explain yourself or just going to sit there looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“Four fucking hells.” He says while running a hand through his curls, beginning to pace in front of you. He turns his face to you, and you cock your head to the side, giving him the invitation to explain.
A gruff, frustrated growl leaves his lips before he begins. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, there’s a history between Catriona Cordella and Xaden.” You nod in acknowledgement; you never wanted the details, as the last thing you wanted to bother with was the spectacle that was Sorrengail and Riorson’s tumultuous relationship.
“When Xaden’s father arranged the betrothal with Catriona, I was brought with him to Cordyn. Fen thought it would be best that Xaden had someone of his own with him when all the arrangements were being decided.” Garrick continues as he begins pacing again, not really looking anywhere particular, as if unsure whether to meet your eyes. “We were teenage boys and there were pretty girls. Catriona was a piece of work, as I’m sure you’ve realized, but the others around her worked hard to show us the palace and welcome us as best as possible.”
“We started visiting more often, Tecarus and Fen hoping that Xaden and Catriona would naturally develop a relationship or at least foster respect from repetitive meetings.” A sardonic huff leaves his lips as he shakes his head as if reflecting on the memories. “They eventually figured out a way to be around each other, without being at each other’s throats but that left me roaming around the palace looking for something to do.”
“Or someone.” You couldn’t help but interject. Clearly you hit the true root of the problem as Garrick came to a complete stop in his pacing while having his back to you. There was no mistaking how tense he was, every muscle in his back was coiled tight as if expecting an attack at any moment. Turning slowly, you watched as a muscle in his jaw feathered as he clenched it hard enough to break. Hazel eyes met yours and you didn’t miss the way they were measuring, trying to predict what you were going to do next.
Garrick’s eyebrows shot up as you just gave him a motion with your hand to continue. His eyes darted back and forth as if uncertain on what he was seeing. Raising your eyebrows and giving him a look, he shook his head as if forcing himself from a daze.
“As you say, or someone. So, I got involved with Vanessa.” A heavy sigh leaves him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously annoyed with himself and the situation.
“I – I never exactly broke it off with her.” He adds hesitantly. “Xaden visited Catriona himself once bonded, and I would accompany him, but I never let myself be alone with Vanessa again. I thought she would’ve gotten the hint, but evidently, I was mistaken.”
Garrick brings his hand to your face and strokes the blossoming bruise on your jaw. “If what I just had to deal with is anything to go by, I’m thinking she’s still waiting for her chance.”
There’s no missing the way Garrick’s eyes darkening, the grip on your face tightening slightly. “She surely didn’t hold back from utilizing her mind work during our mat-.”
Before you can finish your statement, Garrick is furiously striding out the door. Your eyes fly wide, and you rush to follow him. “Garrick. Stop.”
“No. I’m going to put that little girl in her fucking place. If she dares user her mind work against you again, I will bury her.” The menace in Garrick’s voice is something you’ve never heard before and makes your hackles rise in both fear and aggravation.
Picking up your pace, you run to finally catch up to your nuisance of a bodyguard. You finally cut off his strides and he doesn’t stop in time, bringing both of you tumbling to the floor. The air rushes from your lungs as Garrick’s full weight falls on you, along with his twin swords.
“Don’t you think you two could keep it in the bedroom, please.” A smug voice says from the doorway you had just passed.
Your nose crinkles at the words as Garrick quickly gets to his feet and is reaching to help you up. As you sit up, you sputter a few coughs trying to regain your breath.
“Fuck off, Riorson. Don’t act like the entirety of Aretia doesn’t know when you and Violet are occupied.” Garrick snips at the voice, though he never looks back, his eyes still fussing over you.
“True. But we aren’t exhibitionists.” Xaden continues with laughter in his tone, but Garrick scoffs as if he’s privy to some information that you’re more than okay with being excluded from.
Finally catching your breath and tired of their bickering, you pull the arm of Garrick’s flight jacket and lead him to the large doors that are looming before you. As soon as you are through, you turn to him with an exasperated sigh.
“You can’t fight my battles for me.” You quip as your hands fall to your hips. “I don’t care about your relationship with Vanessa. I was never naïve to think that there weren’t dozens of conquests for you before I even entered the quadrant. Besides, I don’t need another target on my back because a previous fling thinks you’re trying to protect me. In case you haven’t noticed, the minute you try to be overprotective, I seem to get hurt worse than if you left it alone.”
Your words hit exactly as you were hoping they would, and Garrick immediately deflates.
“I don’t know what to do with myself if I can’t try and protect you. At this point, I want to be anywhere you are, any time I can be, and the only way I seem to be able to do that is by trying to protect you.” Garrick grouses like a child that’s been denied their favorite candy.
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out as you shake your head.
“How about you try helping me train? Or with runes?” You say as your laughter begins to die. “I haven’t had time to get back to my strength before being tortured.”
You don’t miss the darkness that takes over Garrick’s eyes as you mentioned the torture you endured. Your body and mind had slowly been healing, but there was no way to evade it in the nightmares that still stole your sleep.
“I’m behind others in runes from being out of class so often.” You admit, though you can’t help the next jab.
“And someone didn’t leave me fabric and a book of knots so I would be ahead of everyone else.” You let the smirk blooming stain your lips as you knock into Garrick with your shoulder. His own huff of laughter leaves his mouth before he’s looking down at you again.
There’s no mistaking the affection shining as he looks down at you, the flecks of blue in his eyes dancing at the playfulness you’ve given him. Taking two steps forward, he grabs your shoulder and pulls you forward, wrapping his arms around you as soon as you hit his chest.
“I’ll do both. You don’t need to convince me to spend any of my time with you.” He looks down at you, eyes still twinkling. “Honestly, if it were up to me, you’d be glued to my side every minute, of every day.”
“Oh, Lieutenant Tavis, I would be careful of what you wish for.” You can’t help the tease as it leaves your lips. Your head begins to bob against Garrick’s chest as he lets out a booming laugh, the sound bringing a smile to your face, that for once in a long time, reaches your eyes.
________________
As you stand in formation, you wrinkle your nose as the fliers joining your squad slot themselves into your ranks. As if Zinhal decided you’ve had enough luck, Vanessa stops right in front of you, a sneer slicing her face, disdain covering her eyes as she looks you up and down. You let one eyebrow rise, a clear challenge of her perusal.
Devera begins giving directives, but her words are broken over the beat of wings as a riot moves past on their way to the valley. There’s no mistaking Sgaeyl and Chradh heading up the front of the line, though the real surprise is when you hear the gasps and conversation around you.
Before you even have time to look, a shadow looms behind you and strong arms wrap around your waist. A gasp of shock escapes you and a shiver crawls down your spine as you turn your head slightly to see a windblown mop of brown curls, the only thing visible with Garrick’s cold face plastered into the crook of your neck.
“Uhm, we’re still in formation, Lieutenant.” You whisper for only Garrick to hear.
“Mmhmm, I don’t give a flying fuck. I missed you.” Garrick whispers into your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your neck.
“I believe the stares I’m getting might make you retract that statement.” You say, though there’s no way to hide the amusement in your voice while you stand looking back at Vanessa’s shocked expression.
“Nope, don’t fucking care.” Garrick returns while tightening his hold. His warm breath escaping as if he’s been holding it in for too long, the feeling ghosting across your neck.
You snicker as he continues to hold you all while meeting the faces of fliers and other members of your squad, a wide range of emotions playing across each and every one. A throat clearing finally brings Garrick out of his trance as he finally raises to his full height to meet the less than amused gaze of Professor Devera.
“Lieutenant Tavis, I believe both you and Lieutenant Riorson are due to debrief the Assembly.” Devera states, although the glint in her eye says she’s more amused than agitated as her gaze swings between both men. “On top of that, their dragons are waiting for them to mount for their exercise.”
As she turns to walk towards the rest of the squads, you don’t miss the huff of sadness that leaves Garrick’s lips. Turning your head, you give him an unimpressed look, all while he just looks back with big, sad eyes.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of you today, Honey Bear.” Xaden teases as he clasps his hand on Garrick’s shoulder.
The pet name leaves Xaden’s lips so casually, you don’t try and stop the laugh that escapes you. If nothing else, its entertaining to see the tease of a man finally getting some back. But never one to be outdone, Garrick doesn’t miss a beat.
“Oh, thank you, Sunshine. I thought I’d be all alone. I’ll feel extra safe since I watched you take down that venin outside of Draithus.” Garrick chimes back, clearly trying to get under Xaden’s skin.
“What?!” Violet quips while looking Xaden up and down, trying to assess for injuries.
“Thanks for that, asshole!” Xaden’s eyes flash as he grouses at Garrick, before he’s smirking as well. “Maybe I should let your girl here know –“
Xaden’s train of thought is immediately cut off as Garrick swings his fist towards Xaden’s head, though clearly not meant to hurt. Xaden glares back at his best friend and you roll your eyes trying to draw the two men apart.
“You going to tell me what that was about? Or should I just worry that some other secret is going to come swinging for me?” You ask as soon as you get Garrick further away from Xaden.
Garrick takes a deep breath, and you don’t miss the deadpanned look he gives you. “No, he was trying to out that I was a beat too close to getting drained by a venin in the same attack.”
Now its your turn for your eyes to fly wide in surprise, darting left and right as if you’d be able to sense any injury to the man in front of you.
“I’m fine.” He protests, though you’re uncertain when you see the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Are you trying to imply that you’re worried about little old me?”
Now it’s your turn to return the deadpanned look, lips thinning at his ribbing. “If you’re going to act like that, I’ll take my affections elsewhere.”
You turn sharply, intending to stomp away from the infuriating man, but before you can take two steps you find yourself wrapped in his embrace again. Turning in his hold, you wrap your arms around him and take a deep breath, relieved at knowing that he’s safe.
“I’d love to stay here, but if you don’t let go soon, I’m afraid Devera won’t be as nice about it.” You murmur into his chest. Garrick huffs a slight laugh before he begins to release you, though its slower than you would’ve expected, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go too fast.
“Come find me when you get back. We can work on runes to get you caught up.” A small smile on his face as he begins walking backwards, away from you.
“Yes, sir, Lieutenant.” You sass with a mock salute, but you don’t miss the flare of fire in his eyes before you are turning and heading for Diomat and the rest of your squad.
___________
“This is not what I expected when we were told we’d be searching for runes.” You grumble as you feel the snow of the mountain begin to sop into your boots. Scrunching your nose in distaste, you continue behind those that seemed to have mastered them.
Your attitude isn’t helped as you must travel behind Vanessa, the girl constantly turning back to you with another sneer on her face. You try to breathe deeply and let the mountain air cool your rising aggravation, but at about the fifteenth time that she dares to turn, you’ve had enough.
“Can you please stare at something or someone else? I’m about fifteen seconds from throwing you off the nearest cliff.” Your tone is clipped, the annoyance floating through every word.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand what exactly Garrick sees in you. Littered with scars and the personality to match, seems like more of a chore to deal with you than a privilege.” Your eyes flash with anger and it takes every ounce of restraint in your body not to lunge at the girl and fulfill your promise.
However, there’s no way to hold in the growl of frustration and there’s your mistake. No matter the way her words seem to rot into your core, you should have remained silent. Realizing too late, you look up and monitor the snow, suddenly sure that you should’ve just kept your mouth shut and endured her stare. Eyes nervously darting back and forth, you hope beyond hope that the precariously coated mountaintops will keep their mounds of snow right where they are.
“Lets just get this exercise over with so we don’t have to be in each other’s company any longer.” The only words you can get out through your grit teeth, the level of your voice so low you know only Vanessa can hear you.
“What? Is it too intimidating to be faced with the fact that you’ll never be good enough for Garrick? That you’ll always be beleaguered with scars and cracks that nothing will ever cover?” The words again stick in your gut, churning into an acidic sludge burning in their ferocity. Who is this girl to give voice to some of the things you’ve always thought about yourself? To correctly judge you in a way no one else seems to do, as if she can get into your mind and examine every single insecurity.
“Stop.” A male flier steps up to Vanessa and tugs lightly on her arm. “We’re standing precariously on a mountain beset in snow. Now is not the time to act petty.”
An eyebrow quirks at his words, but you have no time to dissect them when you hear a crack of ice. Eyes instantly shooting to the peak above, fear begins to tighten your insides as there’s no way to stop the avalanche of snow if its precarious position changes.
“Get moving before we all end up off the side of the cliff.” You whisper harshly, hoping that they take the warning for what it is.
They begin to step forward, but as you continually monitor the snow, you can’t help but worry about the shifting you see from smaller piles near the edges of the cliff. Before you can take a step into the safety of the cave, a loud roar comes from somewhere within the mountain. Eyes widening in shock, you try to push into the entrance of the cave, but the slightly falling snow has now turned into an avalanche, each flake misplaced by the commanding roar. You push the flier in front of you forward, but your foot catches on a rock that was previously covered in snow, and you fall to your knees.
‘Bold One!’ Diomat’s worried voice breaks your panic as you wrap your arms around your head to shelter yourself from the falling snow.
Suddenly a burst of heat flows from above and you do your best to curl in as tightly as you can. Finally understanding the reason for the fire above you, you’re suddenly being doused in drops of hot water. You try to turn your head and see a flash of familiar scales, but as helpful as Diomat is by eliminating the weight of the snow, it doesn’t stop the falling stones.
A blinding pain suddenly knocks into you as a heavy thunk resounds in your skull. Trying to open your eyes, the only thing you see is stars and blurring figures. You body starts to feel like its rolling on the ocean instead of steady on the side of a mountain, shutting your eyes tightly again you try to stave off the wave of nausea that threatens to overtake you.
Muffled shouts sound from around you, you’re not entirely sure from where, but the echoing pound in your head causes everything to be drowned out. You bring your hands to your head and are suddenly aware of a warm and sticky dripping from the side of your face. Taking your hands from your face, your stomach revolts at the metallic smell that meets your nose, only enhancing the battering pain in your head.
After what seems an eternity of emptying your stomach, you look up to see several sets of black and brown boots around you, though their voices are still muffled from the pulsing in your head.
A gentle hand falls to your shoulder and through the stars in your eyes, you meet the blurry gaze of your best friend. He tries to hold up his hand and ask you about the fingers on his hand, but you can’t seem to differentiate anything.
Taking your non-confirmation as a response, you feel gentle hands roll you towards another leather-clad body. The only thing you register is the unusual color of the leather, something about the brown color confusing you before the nausea and throbbing pain cause the blackness to settle in.
_________________
“Sometimes I think Tavis is right, your one goal in life is to be in lethal situations.” Your best friend snarks at you as you sit in your room trying to focus your vision, unsure of exactly how much time has passed since you passed out.
“This was absolutely not my fault!” You pout. “I can’t control another dragon’s roar firstly. And secondly, I’m not the one who organized that ridiculous rune hunt either.”
As you finish talking, you close your eyes trying to keep the nausea from clawing up your throat again. Though your actions seem fruitless when your best friend gets up from the bed and rocks your body, causing your vision to swim again at the change.
A groan leaves your lips as you hear footfalls and the grogginess fogging your head the only thing you can focus on.
“Stop moving or making any noise. If you don’t, I’m going to puke on you.” You moan as you try to right your stomach again after the bed tipping.
The room finally goes quiet as you try to settle back into the bed as slowly as you can. Before you can even register how dark the room has gotten, the blissfulness of sleep finds you again.
The veil of sleep finally begins to lift, and you take a deep breath, eyes still closed as you try to assess the pain in your head.
“Will there ever be one time when I come back, and you aren’t half dead?” Garrick’s voice cuts through the silence causing your eyes to shoot open. “Or is that just going to be your perpetual state now?”
Your lips thin at his comments as you let yourself slowly wake up, turning your head, there’s no way to miss his large form sitting in the chair propped next to your bed. Though you can’t fully make out the look on his face through the darkness of the room.
“I’ll see what I can do about my inability to let other’s fall, Lieutenant.” You mouth, though there’s no real bite behind it.
Garrick takes a deep breath as he rises from the chair and sits on the side of your bed. You brace yourself, expecting the nausea to hit you again, but you finally let out your breath when you realize it seems to finally have abated.
“I think I’m going to request that you be sent wherever Sorrengail is not. Maybe then I’ll be able to keep you out of mortal peril.” Your brows scrunch as you absorb his words, though he continues. “It seems Andarna killed Solas within the cave network you were in. Your squad, unfortunately, seems to be the one that was closest to them.”
“Ah.” You say, because there’s nothing more to be explained. “So, you’re saying that Varrish and his fire breathing companion are both now dead, correct?”
A dark look passes over Garrick’s features, before he lays down next to you and pulls you forward to rest your head on his chest.
“Yes, it seems as though that issue has now come to a close. Although, that doesn’t stop anyone from taking their place.” You hum in acknowledgment, but between the warmth of Garrick’s body and the lulling rhythm of his heart, your eyes begin to droop again.
“Sleep. I’m not going anywhere tonight.” Garrick whispers as his arm tightens around you. His body a fortress of safety, a shelter in the storm of the life you’ve found yourself in.
_____________
Finally having an afternoon to yourself, you take the time to stroll into Aretia. The bustle of the city seems to settle your nervous energy. The smell of sweets wafting from the cafés, the sounds of children playing near the small school, the bustle of conversation within the market stalls, all combine to a sense of normalcy that you haven’t experienced since crossing the parapet.
You relish in the simple pleasures of the day to day. Watching the blacksmith take orders, the farmers bringing in carts lined with vegetables, woodworkers turning wood for furniture, every single person engrossed in their daily lives.
You’d once thought you’d feel like an outsider watching others live their lives, but instead it has seemed to bring you a peace you didn’t know you missed.
A smile graces your face as you swing open the familiar door to Fabien’s café, the warm scent of coffee assaulting every single sense. Walking up to the counter, you hit the small bell and smile again when you hear a voice call from the back.
“One second!” Fabien’s voice echoes from inside the kitchen.
As you wait, you let your fingers rove over the cups on the shelves, the smooth velvet of the chairs, the worn wood of the counter, committing every single detail to memory.
Everything an effort to try and get the pit out of your stomach. A stone that seemed to settle there this morning that will not dislodge.
You turn around again as you hear the familiar squeak of the door separating the kitchen and the front.
“What can I get for you?” Fabien says without looking at you and you smile.
“O – Oh! Hello!” He now greets as he looks back at you for the first time. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since that ruckus in battle brief.”
“I’m doing well, thank you. Just came for a cup of hot chocolate and some conversation.” You admit. “I have the afternoon off and needed a distraction outside of the fortress.”
“Yes, it can get a bit stuffy in there.” A quick chuckle escapes your lips at Fabien’s quip. “Go ahead and make yourself at home. I’ll get your drink ready, and we can chat.”
True to his word, minutes later, you are holding a steaming mug of rich chocolate. You inhale, letting the sweet scent of the chocolate melt into your nostrils, the warmth of the cup chasing away the chill of your hands. Tipping the cup, you soften into the pleasantness of the liquid hitting your tongue, the pleasure dampening the weight of the stone in your stomach.
“I hear you’ve been having quite the adventures lately.” Fabien muses as he clutches his own cup of the molten chocolate.
You harrumph, not wanting to receive another lecture about your reckless ways. “It isn’t like I plan on most of these things. The only thing I could possibly be blamed for it willingly going to Cordyn.”
You pause, a thoughtful look on your face. “Let’s just say I’ll probably think twice about agreeing to any more of Sorrengail’s ideas.”
Fabien laughs at your words. “I think that would probably be wise. From what I’ve seen between her and Riorson, they seem to attract the wrong kind of, well, everything really.”
There’s no way to control the unrestrained laughter that leaves you at Fabien’s statement.
“I see I’m not the only one that’s noticed that the opposite of luck seems to follow them around.” You muse as you take another sip.
Several hours go by as you catch up with Fabien, regaling him with your travels to Cordyn, the introduction of the fliers, and the other changes that seem to take place in your life day-to-day. He in turn tells you of all the families that have flocked to Aretia and the way they have seamlessly integrated themselves with those that remained. The smile that you entered with, seems to be a permanent fixture to your face here, though it drops as Diomat’s voice breaks through.
‘It would be prudent for you to return to the fortress.’ Diomat orders, though her voice is laced with concern.
‘Why? What is going on?’ You quip back, irritated at the elusive responses from dragons.
‘I’ll let the Lieutenant inform you.’ She says before seeming to close you off.
Huffing, you bid goodbye to Fabien and begin to walk back towards the fortress. The stone in your stomach seems to return, especially with the ominous way in which Diomat seems to be guarding her words.
Strong gusts of wind tousle your hair as you make your way from the café, every step tightening the dread that has coiled around you as a second skin. You try to take deep breaths, but your heart begins to beat faster as you begin to lay eyes on the cadets that seem to be milling around.
There are no smiles, no teasing, only dour faces, every single person that you pass looks as if any fight has been leeched from their eyes.
What the hell happened?
Every worst-case scenario seems to flit through your mind as you make your way up the curving pathway. Eyes searching each and every person, you try to find a familiar face from your squad, but you come up empty.
At least you thought you did, until your eyes lock on Natasha. The look she gives you makes your steps falter, there’s no mistaking the fright and worry, the way she holds onto another flier next to her. Without ruminating on who you’re about to address, you march towards her, desperate to figure out what exactly is happening.
“What the hell is going on? Why does everyone look like we just lost a major battle?” You ask, hoping that for once she will put your differences aside and be straight forward.
“There was an attack.” Her voice falters as she starts. “On Pavis. They were outnumbered and outclassed. The venin moved in and even with reinforcements they took the city.”
Only one word seems to click in your mind.
Pavis.
Garrick was near Pavis.
Garrick, the man that you hadn’t given your heart back to.
The man that you had fallen asleep with just days ago.
The thought hit you suddenly and the next thing you registered was the pounding of your boots as you sprinted inside of Riorson House.
Legs burning while climbing the stairs two at a time. Breath tearing through your lungs as you try to push yourself harder. You hadn’t waited to hear if there was anyone injured or dead, because you couldn’t possibly stand the thought that it could possibly be true.
Breaking out onto the floor of the family quarters, you came to an abrupt halt as you tried to breathe oxygen back into your lungs.
A smattering of movement at the end of the hall grabs your attention and your eyes flare as they land on the person. He’s covered in soot, every inch of him battle-hardened. Blood and grime covering every possible surface, but that doesn’t matter, because he’s standing. He’s walking and breathing.
And looking directly at you.
Your mind doesn’t need to direct your legs, because they are again pumping through the roaring burn. Sprinting, you refuse to slow down, refuse to be gentle. The minute you are in front of him, your arms swing out and you’re throwing yourself at the man in front of you.
Your arms tighten around his neck, face buried into his neck. He grabs you back just as fiercely, grabbing your thighs as you swing your legs around his waist. You don’t know when the tears started, when the wave of relief finally crashed over you, but now that you’re in Garrick’s arms, none of it matters.
Nothing else matters except the man you are tangled in.
“You’re alright.” The words leave your mouth in an almost inaudible whisper, but you chant them again and again like a prayer. An offering to any god willing to listen.
A small laugh leaves Garrick’s lips as he kisses you on your forehead, resting his head against yours and at that moment every single wall breaks.
They all tumble down. Every single brick you had erected around the organ that beats for the man whose embrace you’re locked in. Every insurmountable wall gone in seconds.
Pulling your face back, you stare into the hazel eyes that have held your heart for over the last year, even through your anger. The eyes that you hoped would never look at anyone else the way they looked back at you now.
Throwing every single worry about your relationship out the window, you grab Garrick’s cheeks and search his eyes, unsure of what you’re looking for.
It’s the crinkle at the ends that finally pushes everything else away. Tightening your hold, you surge forward and capture Garrick’s lips in a kiss you can only hope was worth the wait.
In answer to your question, Garrick’s grip on your thigh tightens as he brings his other arm to wrap around your waist. His grip strengthening so there is no space left between you. You don’t hear the click of the lock or the closing of the door, but the remaining breath leaves your lungs when he pins you to the door. Even breathless, you can’t bring yourself to stop kissing him. Every nerve in your body singing with the fire that you’ve only felt with him.
It's Garrick that breaks the kiss first, pulling back to rest his forehead on yours.
“Gods. I will fight for that for the rest of my gods damned life if I have to.” He pants, trying to regain his breath. “I can’t fucking lose you again.”
Your eyes lock on his and you’ve never seen the blue and gold flecks shine so brilliantly, each speck shining with a look of love so strong it would knock you down if you were standing.
He walks backwards, but you stay wrapped around him while he sets himself down in the plush chair in his room, never breaking contact. Both arms now wrapped around your waist, pulling you as far into him as he possibly can.
“I – I thought...” You trail off not able to give life to the thought of something happening to him, the words lodging in your throat.
“I know. But I’m here.” He says placatingly, clearly knowing that you need the reassurance. His fingers absentmindedly tracing circles onto your waist. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
A small huff leaves your mouth at his words, but your heart swells at the thought.
“As much as I want to take this at your pace, I – I just can’t do that anymore.” Garrick murmurs, though you don’t miss the plea in his voice. “I need you here. To be wrapped in my arms at night. To be able to kiss you and remind myself that you’re still here. To cover you in every ounce of love I can possibly give. I refuse to give you up. For as little or as much time as we have left together.”
You let his words settle, bringing your hands to his face, fingers stroking his cheeks gently before replying.
“Okay.” Simple and straightforward. There’s no question left in your mind now. The fears of being hurt again, fading to the background, gone with the possibility of losing him.
“Okay?” Garrick responds, clearly surprised by your easy agreement.
“Okay.” You repeat as you place a soft kiss on his lips in confirmation.
The movement causes a smile to break out on Garrick’s face as you back up slightly to take him in. A matching smile paints your face as you take everything in, which quickly turns into a giggle when Garrick picks you up and spins you around and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You continue to laugh, happiness overtaking all the concern and worry.
“Ugh!” You exclaim, though its barely heard through your laughter. “You sir, need a bath!”
Turning his eyes to you, all you see is mischief and the smirk on his face before he’s manhandling you into the bathroom and turning on the tap with lesser magic. You shriek but that does nothing against his grip on you.
“You said I needed a bath, and I told you I need you here.” Garrick teases before you are suddenly doused in the cold water of the shower.
“I hate you!” You shriek as you shiver under the cold water.
“No, you don’t.” Garrick murmurs in your ear, but every ounce of mischief has gone from his tone. “You love me, and I love you. And from this day on, you are only mine.” Each statement punctuated with a lingering kiss to your face.
As he finishes speaking, he looks back to you with a reverence that you’re unsure if you deserve, but you don’t have time to think before his warm lips draw every thought that isn’t him from your head. The cold water completely forgotten, you let yourself melt into the warm embrace that only Garrick can provide. The electricity of his kiss, his touch, confirming what you already knew.
There is no way you’ll survive without this man.
Taglist: @ilovetomtailor@nevermoresworld@nastylicious@iambored24601@mysticalfuncollectorus@sadpieceofbread @thatonegameaddict @lagrandeourse @sleepisfortheweakpooh
#fourth wing fanfic#fourth wing x reader#the empyrean#the empyrean fanfic#garrick tavis#fourth wing#iron flame#garrick tavis x reader#garrick fourth wing#iron flame fanfic#fourth wing fic#onyx storm#empyrean series#chradh
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#1 - FRAGMENT: Vitality
Gaster's repressed inner child, as well as the source of his curiosity. Carries himself in a joyful, mystifying manner. Made contact with Jevil.
#2 - FRAGMENT: Speech
Gaster's manner of expressing himself and how he articulates language. Can easily persuade others and knows how to move a few pieces in his favor. Made contact with Spamton.
#3 - FRAGMENT: Rapture
Gaster's motivation for working as a scientist and passion for his job. He's driven by an insatiable desire to study the depths of the universe. Made contact with Halojack.
#4 - FRAGMENT: Wisdom
Gaster's intelligence and brilliance as a scientist, which got him his powerful position. Is great at solving problems that are thrown at him. Made contact with Beltrowel.
#5 - FRAGMENT: Beast
Gaster's more primal and intense thoughts/behavior, often repressed in favor of his detached self. Is very volatile and can be dangerous. Made contact with Spree Blitz.
#6 - FRAGMENT: Everything
Gaster's analytical side and hope for a bright future. Quietly observes those around him, studying what makes them "themselves" and his connections with others. Made contact with Minerva.
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zhancheng to me is like this:
imagine a scenario in which jiang cheng actually does know quite a lot about lan wangji's tastes: his favorite and least favorite tea flavors, snacks, food, books, music, authors and artists, and so on.....except jiang cheng specifically sought out this information during the 13 year timeskip to make lan wangji miserable.
maybe lan wangji is just publicly A Bitch to him one too many times and jiang cheng finally decides he's had enough. so, for the next few months, jiang cheng spends an inordinate amount of time gradually sussing out everything he can learn about lan wangji's tastes. what kind of tea does he like? what kind of tea does he despise? which authors does he always read? what temperature does he prefer his room to be? what new trends in music does he find completely unbearable? when he passes through a region whose cuisine he hates, which restaurants does he find slightly less intolerable?
and then, the next time there's a discussion conference at lotus pier, jiang cheng weaponizes this knowledge. actually, the next time there's a public event anywhere wherein both jiang cheng and lan wangji are in attendance, jiang cheng weaponizes the fuck out of this knowledge. he makes sure that the tea lan wangji hates the most is served to everyone. he has his disciples buy all the local snacks he knows lan wangji has a preference for, just so lan wangji can't have any. he makes sure lan wangji's room and bed are heated to the exact temperature lan wangji finds just too hot to be comfortable. whenever lan wangji's favorite obscure author releases a new work that gusu lan doesn't think is cultivation-related enough to include in their library, jiang cheng has a bunch of his disciples swoop in and buy as many copies as possible, just so that it takes lan wangji a bit longer to get his hands on a volume. jiang cheng "leaks" to a few minor sect leaders the idea that lan wangji actually does like spicy food, and said minor sect leaders actually believe that information for a full year of hosted visits and public events.
this continues for all 13 years of the timeskip. of course, jiang cheng isn't outstandingly successful in actually making lan wangji miserable, because there are limits to what jiang cheng can actually achieve and what he's actually willing to spend enough time on; realistically, all he's accomplishing is causing lan wangji some minor irritations once in a while. but it's enough for jiang cheng to know that, every time lan wangji has to pass through yunmeng, he's absolutely miserable because jiang cheng has persuaded/paid every musician in the area to play the one song lan wangji hates the most.
jin guangyao, of course, figures out what's going on immediately. but even loyalty to lan xichen isn't going to make him sacrifice potentially useful dirt by putting a stop to jiang cheng's asshole behavior himself, so instead he just decides to watch and wait. he also just finds it really funny. meanwhile, lan wangji, for all 13 of these years, never figures out what's going on. he never figures out why he can't ever find the lanling-style osmanthus cakes he hates slightly less than the rest of lanling cuisine whenever he passes through the area and runs into disciples from yunmeng jiang. when his favorite obscure author releases a new book, he gets in line at the indie bookstore in qinghe he went out of his way to visit, and just doesn't question why everyone in front of him is wearing purple.
postcanon, though....now lan wangji has one hell of a source of insider information (wei wuxian), so the turns are about to get fucking tabled.
#mdzs#mo dao zu shi#jiang cheng#lan wangji#zhancheng#yanyan speaks#look. realistically jc would not do this. he's busy and has better things to do with his time.#also realistically the hatedom between them is more one-sided on lwj's part. jc does not care.#but listen. it's funny.#and imagining jc being a massive fucking hater to this one guy who keeps being rude to him in public will never not be hilarious.#also this kind of behavior is not beneath jc at all bc dude he grew up with fucking wei wuxian#also also. yeah ig this means the lotus pier library is filled with 5 million copies of lwj's favorite books#left there by ymj disciples who didnt actually want the books and instead accepted reimbursement from jc
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