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[dinas-y-cerrig]

Updated Arthasian History: The Brother’s War

just FYI i plan to change some of the names, having ten million Friedrichs at once is silly. i mean the names are chosen by a special ~oneiromancer priest guy~ & i. look ill fix this shit One Day.

....maybe.

anyway, this covers the Brother’s War, a crucial series of events that set the stage for the current tenuous political situation in the Arthasian Empire.

Friedrich III von Rosenbaum ascended the imperial throne of Arthasia amid a particularly turbulent time in its 400 year history.  He was born Bertholdt, the second son of the previous emperor, Friedrich I.  His elder brother by five years, Friedrich II, born Bertrand, gained the throne in 1773 at the age of 16, and soon proved to be a troubled ruler.  This was before the instating of a regent for young emperors, although the events that followed his crowning would lead to Minister of Public Affairs Dezso taking up the position of regent to the twins Rudolf and Claudia 57 years later.

Within the first year of Friedrich II's reign, the power given him led him to decadent and slovenly behaviour.  He abused his power and used state funds to host extravagant parties while neglecting his duty to the people.  With the hostile situation in the Northern Territories at a boiling point, his continued self-indulgence was the start of a series of ongoing skirmishes at the border.

When citizens began criticizing his actions, Friedrich II began a series of brutal and bloody purges that targeted commoner and noble alike.  As his mental state and paranoia continued to degrade, in part due to his excessive drinking and use of opium and other substances, so too did the brutality of his actions increase.

Meanwhile, his younger brother had started to gather people around him in support of him taking the throne instead.  Bertholdt had proven wise beyond his years, and with a level head quite the opposite of his elder brother.  However, when too much power had gathered beneath Bertholdt, Friedrich II, who had largely ignored him, put a warrant out for his arrest.  This sparked what would come to be known as the Brothers' War.

It quickly became obvious that popular support was vastly in Bertholdt's favor.  Although only 18 years old, Bertholdt--now calling himself Friedrich III--brought in a rapid series of victories for his side.  Within five months, Friedrich II--now called the pretender or Fool King--had been forced to flee from the capital to the old stronghold of Brynwal--ironically enough, as it was the last outpost between Arthasia and Bundrweald some years ago.  Trapped between enemy territory and his brother's encroaching forces, Friedrich II settled in for a protracted war.  However, Friedrich III's encroaching forces were far better supplied, and as they surrounded the stronghold they starved out Friedrich II's remaining forces.  In an act of mercy, the younger Friedrich offered his brother the option to take the respectable end of suicide, but the Fool King stubbornly refused again and again, until his younger brother was forced to drag him back to the capital and behead him before the watching crowds.

Friedrich III's rule began with rectifying his brother's misrule.  He was especially dedicated to restarting peace talks between Arthasia and the Northern Territories. However, this is met with scorn from certain noble factions who see a war as an opportunity to gain territory, power, and restore the singular entity of Arthasia under one common enemy.

In 1813, mere months after ascending the throne of Arthasia, Friedrich III is wed to Antigone of House Richter.  Two years later, after a failed pregnancy, their first son, Friedrich IV, is born.  By this time the marriage had already become rather troubled, with Friedrich III and Antigone rarely speaking to one another.  However, it was the birth of a bastard child in 1818 which began to truly unravel their relationship.  The child was born to a noblewoman of Dohar, and although at first went unacknowledged, by 1824, with Minister of Public Affairs Dezso's prompting, Friedrich III adopted the child, named Kain, and brought him to Arthasia.

The imperial couple went many years sleeping in separate bedchambers, however, in 1830 Empress Antigone was once again pregnant.  After a long and difficult pregnancy, she gave birth to the twins Rudolf and Claudia.  Within days of their delivery, the empress succumbed to post-natal difficulties.

Three years after the birth of the twins, in 1833, Friedrich III and his son, Friedrich IV, departed on a peacekeeping mission to Syrennskopp.  On the return trip, their train was bombed, and the ensuing carnage left Friedrich III dead and his eldest son barely clinging to life, having lost a leg from the knee down and an entire arm in the explosion.  The terrorist attack was blamed on Northern extremists, however in reality it was a faction of pro-war Arthasian nobles who organized the attack to instigate a break in peace talks and move towards war against the Northern Territories.

Within a few months of the attack, Friedrich IV, having recovered as best as he could, ceded the throne and took up the name Lorant.  With the twins Rudolf and Claudia at only just barely four years of age, the Minister of Public Affairs, Dezso, who had supported the previous emperor throughout his reign took up the mantle of regent for the young princelings.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

Ch5-ish, important Plot Points

That morning dawned brilliantly over the snow covered city.  The sun's rays did little to dispel the cold, but as the first clear day in weeks, much of the city rejoiced.

Margot Mayweather was not included in that.

She buried her congested head into the threadbare pillow, trying her best to ignore the early morning bustle already buzzing in the quarters.  The Strigoi, slapdash congregation though they were, took great pride in their neverending work ethic. Or perhaps they just told themselves that as comfort when faced with their captain's ceaseless demands.  Either way, this being Margot's first day to herself in over a month, she wished only that she might get another fifteen, nay, ten, or even five more minutes of sleep.

This wish was heartlessly shot down as Pisica landed with a heavy thump on Margot's chest.  The pug nosed, snaggle toothed ball of hair masquerading as a cat pawed insistently at Margot's nose until she finally relented. She went to set out food, and, noticing the water jug was empty, left her room after hurriedly getting herself dressed to refill it.  The hallways of their barracks were always uncomfortable; too hot in summer, too cold in winter.  Today the wooden floorboards creaked drily and Margot pulled tight the knit cardigan she had on.  She gave halfhearted greetings to the officers she passed on her way to the kitchen, her throat scratchy and her voice hoarse.  This did not bode well, she thought to herself with a resigned sigh.

As she was returning from the kitchen with the full pitcher, she heard someone call out to her from behind.

"Ah, Doctor. There was a telegraph for you, it sounded urgent."

Margot frowned, wondering just what it could be.  She thanked the young officer, Mardu if she recalled correctly, and accepted the missive from him.  She read through it as she returned to her room, surprised to see that it had come from her friend Rufus Albrecht.  It had been some time since she last spoke to him--with her now working for the Strigoi, she found herself suspicious of every innocuous question Rufus asked her.  He was a writer for a paper printed over in the Five Points district, the Daily Reporter, and much of his personal focus was in the political sphere.  Margot had once made an offhand comment about Kain's inability to keep an organized room and had been horrified to see an article speculating about Captain Eirwel's ability to run a specialized organization if he could not even run a clean house.  Thankfully it had been a throw away bit located in the back, one of Rufus' more pulpy publications, yet still, for that entire week Margot had braced herself for Kain's wrath.  To her relief, the captain did not seem interested in newspapers whatsoever, despite Lucian providing a number of them to him with great frequency.

Rufus had not provided much information, only requesting that she come meet him at the 27 Cafe in Five Points.  From the minimal wording of the telegraph's transcription, she could only make out that it must be urgent  Resigning herself to her fate, Margot gave Pisica one last pat before wrapping herself up in preparation for the bitter midwinter cold of the capital.  Loathe though she was to get on the messy transit system for this errand, she could not shake the worry that something might truly be wrong.  Could something have happened to Ambrose? she thought.  Rufus' younger brother had from a young age been quite bright, and his talents for medical care blossomed in his teens. With Margot's assistance as a valedictorian of particular merit from the Royal Medical School, Ambrose was able to enroll despite his impoverished background.  The brothers had only each other after their parents both passed away within a year of each other.  Margot had met them not long before their parents' deaths, as her parents had been assisting struggling families in the outer districts and the Albrecht's mother, Celina, had a weak heart.  When their father, Piotr, died in a work related accident, it had broken Celina's spirit, and she followed a few months later.  Rufus had been only thirteen at the time, Ambrose eight, but with great determination the older brother had managed to obtain a life for them.  It was meager, but they had their own apartment, and Rufus had done everything in his power for his younger brother.  With grim thoughts growing in her heart, Margot traversed the connecting trains and trams in a hurry.

When at last she arrived at the 27 Cafe, out of breath and frazzled, her worries were instantly dissipated.  Rather, the lackadaisical smile on Rufus' face as he greeted her and his smug laugh turned her immediately from worried to incensed.

"What was this about a need to see me?"

“Coffee?” Rufus asked, waving a server over as he ignored Margot's tone.

“Ah, no, I think tea today,” she said.  The fight went out of her, and she unwrapped her scarf and sat at the small table.

“You, saying no to coffee?” Rufus' eyes were wide with incredulity.  “And all this time I'd just assumed you'd mistaken it for water.”

“I think I'm coming down with something.  Don't look at me like that!  At least I stay sober,” Margot added defensively.

“If you can call it that.”

His gibes were already grating on her nerves.  Coupled with her headache and the stress of the day's unnecessary commute, Margot had to struggle to keep her temper down.

“Just tell me why you had me come all this way on my one day off in weeks.  You said it was urgent, I thought something terrible might have happened.”  She paused to thank the man who brought her her mug of tea, then turned back just as Rufus slammed something down on the countertop between them.  It was the daily edition of some newspaper or other, and she nearly dismissed it until Rufus jabbed one finger at the headline.  Her eyes widened.

“Traitor!” Rufus snapped.  His voice took on an injured tone.  “You're supposed to be my informant, yet you didn't give me so much as a whiff of this.”

It was Margot's turn to sound hurt.

“What?  I never agreed to offer you any information, let alone be some petty gossip!”

“Whatever you say,” Rufus said. He didn't sound too convinced.  Margot let out a sigh.

“If it makes you feel any better, this is news to me just as much as it is to you.”

Rufus stared dumbly, and as his silence stretched out Margot's face flushed.  The article began with the portraits of a woman she had never seen before, a man whose face also eluded her, and finally the very familiar face of a certain police captain.  There was also included another, smaller portrait of a young girl, perhaps aged ten or eleven.  Bastard's Bastard Confirmed!? read the title of the article.  It reeked of pulp hamfisted writing, but nevertheless, Margot read through it.

At last, suspicions of the elusive Bastard's Bastard seem to be validated.  The von Aldensburg child was last night taken by the captain of the Strigoi, that self important gaggle, Kain Eirwel. Rumors have circulated for many years about the possibility of a child he bore with the late Katja von Aldensburg, but at last the Truth comes out!  This young girl was witnessed with the Bastard, and our reporter states that her white hair gives no doubt!  The Bastard begat a bastard.  We will continue to keep you updated with the latest developments in this story.

“I'm serious.  I've never even heard it mentioned before now," Margot said weakly.  She was trying to wrap her head around all of this.  Indeed, Kain had been up to something the last few weeks.  He had been oddly reserved, and yesterday had not made a single appearance at the office.  Margot wracked her head as she attempted to make sense of this all.

“But this is your department!  I thought you were the Bastard's right hand man.  Woman.  Whatever. Have you just been playing me this whole time?  You're useless!” Rufus wailed.

“I never agreed to tell you anything.  I can't even trust you to know what I eat for lunch without fearing you'll write some ridiculous article about what that means we're working on.  You're my friend, Rufus, but you're still a journalist.  And you're not making yourself any more trustworthy by feeding into that silly rumor.  I thought you had more sense than that.”

At that, Rufus' scowl turned into a grin.

“You're the senseless one, if you really think it's just a 'silly rumor'.  How can you tell me it doesn't ring of some truth?  For crying out loud, you work with him. And yet you didn't have even the slightest suspicion?”

“It's not my job to go through someone's personal life like a rat through garbage.  Unlike some people I know.”

The redheaded journalist had an almost lewd smile plastered across his freckled face.  He leered at Margot, enjoying her frustration.

"What, are you upset that he might have someone in his life?"

Margot rolled her eyes with such force they might have popped from her head.

"Look, Rufus, just because we work together does not mean we'll sudden have some saucy romance for you to exploit.  This may come as something of a surprise for you, but simply being a man and a woman does not mean we're fucking."

It had become something of a pastime for Rufus to mock Margot in this way, and she was unsure whether he himself fully believed it, yet it was undoubtedly of great amusement to him.  This mindset was something she had lamented to him, so she had hoped maybe it really was just a joke... But while women had made many gains in the Empire in the last twenty-odd years, there were still certain social stigmas attached.  Margot had managed to fight her way to where she was today, and had been lucky enough to be a part of an unusual group like the Strigoi, where gender, race, and background matter little.  All that Captain Eirwel cared about was ability.  For this, if not much else, Margot was deeply grateful.

"Getting back on track," Rufus said.  "You don't suppose you might be able to--"

"No.  No way.  Not at all."

"But I haven't even--"

"I.  Don't.  Care," Margot declared with finality.  She finished the last of her tea and stood up.  "If there really is a child involved, I refuse to feed your hunger for drama at her expense.  Thank you for the tea, but I must be going."

Margot's stiffly formal dismissal received a shrug from Rufus as he replaced his cap on his curly red hair.

"My loss, then.  I'll concede this round.  However," he said as he pointed one finger at Margot.  "Don't think I've given up."

There was nothing more to say to her determined friend.  Margot headed back out into the overly bright yet bitingly cold day, many questions simmering in her heart.  For now, she had to return to headquarters.  From there she would learn what she would.

The Strigoi headquarters was in an uproar.  It seemed that every officer, staff member, and clerk had poured into Kain's office.  Although Margot had done her best to restore it to some semblance of order, the jostling crowd threatened to plunge it once more into chaos.  She pushed herself through the chattering crowd, and at last came out next to Lucian.  Her cousin's face was a complex mixture of confusion, concern, and considerable worry.  Margot followed his line of site and let her breath out in a soft sigh as she saw what the commotion was about.

Kain sat with one leg crossed on top of his desk, heedless of the papers beneath him.  Standing next to him was a small girl with brilliant white hair that had been chopped short with all the skill of a butcher.  Her large, icy blue eyes were focused on her feet, and her posture was turned in on herself as though willing herself to vanish before the onslaught of attention. The captain had one hand scratching the top of his head and he cleared his throat to quiet the incessant chatter.

"Ahem.  Well, er, as you can see, I've gathered you all here to introduce you," he started haltingly.  "For, erm, certain reasons, I have taken on a ward. Isobel.  That's her name.  Everyone say hello.  Isobel, say hello."

A pregnant silence answered Kain's hemming and hawing.  It looked as though the girl, Isobel, might just implode into herself.  Her face was bright red, and her hands clenched the linen sash around her waist.  Margot could not stand it any longer.  With an overbearing air, she turned back to everyone's expectant faces with her hands on her hips.

"Now now, I know it's something new, but please clear the room.  We don't need to scare the girl with all of your ugly mugs.  You'll all get a chance to introduce yourselves, but please, for now get back to work."

Despite her position as their doctor, Margot's authoritative tone brought them to their senses, and with sheepish looks they shuffled out of the office.  Margot kept Lucian behind, and they closed the door and both turned to Kain with looks of consternation.

"What in the nine hells were you thinking," Margot hissed.  Her harsh tone caused Isobel to cower, and, feeling ashamed of herself, Margot tried to reel in her anger.

"You can't just parade a child around like some object.  Look at the poor dear, she's shaking in her boots."

Margot knelt down in front of Isobel and put on a friendly smile as she reached out one hand.  The young girl glanced up from under haphazard bangs, sizing Margot up.  At last she put one small hand out and accepted Margot's.  Her grip was tenuous, almost nonexistent, but that was enough for Margot.  She reached out and patted Isobel's head gently, though she did notice how she flinched slightly.  Just what kind of life has this child led? Margot wondered with a hint of sorrow.

Lucian too had some choice words for his friend.  There was a shade to his hazel eyes, and Margot wondered whether he knew more of this than he let on.  The lieutenant gave Isobel a complicated look, took a deep breath, and spoke, forgetting all formalities.

"Kain, are you sure about this..?  You can't exactly raise a child in the barracks.  Not to mention..."  Lucian looked again to Isobel. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

For once Kain seemed to have some self-awareness of his mistake.  There was a hint of color at his cheeks and he was looking away from Margot, still fussing with his hair.  With some hesitation, he stood up and put one hand on Isobel's head.  To Margot and Lucian's astonishment, the girl seemed to welcome the captain's gesture.

"I didn't have much of a choice, did I?  After Katja...  I couldn't just leave her there with that bastard Aldensberg."

The venom in Kain's voice was seething.  Margot looked again to Lucian.  There was something more to this than she knew, and her mind turned to the article she had seen this morning.  When Kain mentioned the name Aldensberg, Isobel's face turned dark and emotionless.

"But, Kain, to raise a child," Lucian said.  "Are you sure you're prepared for this?  It's not like taking care of your plants."

"I know that," Kain snapped.  "I'm not a damned idiot.  Besides, it can't be that difficult, one kid."

"Captain." Margot's voice was low.  "Forgive me for being blunt, but you can't even cook for yourself.  You'd be living in squalor if it weren't for the good graces of your subordinates.  How can you expect--"

"I want to be here."

The small, clear voice startled everyone as it cut through the tension in the room. Isobel had gathered herself and stood with chest puffed out, arms stiff at her sides, fists clenched tightly.  She had a look of determination beyond her years.  Her crystalline blue eyes shone with a fierce light, and she reached one hand out to grip at Kain's sleeve.  There was no way to argue with such conviction.  The captain looked resigned to his fate.

"At least promise me this," Margot said.  "Don't. Ever.  Try to cut her hair again.  You can't even take care of your own damn hair."

And so, in midwinter, during a particularly cold season, the Strigoi accepted into their ranks a certain twelve year old girl.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

Ch2 idea, snippets, miscellany

literally just stuff I wrote up while at work.  mostly random threads of thought, Kain immediately winning Best Dad Of The Year Award, and the reason behind Kain’s police group thing’s name as Strigoi.

also, i hated the original names i’d had for the months, so i put roughly equivalent real life months for reference. very very temporary.

all of my characters are Assholes, the end!

The end of that summer was a cold, rainy affair, more suited to late fall.  Temperatures plummeted from the extreme highs of the month prior, and [August] turned to [September] amidst a week long deluge.  While the crisscrossing bridges and buildings built one atop the other of the old city offered some premise of protection from the rain, those in the stately manors and wide streets of the upper districts found themselves confined to their homes and carriages.  Even with the accompanying servants to hoist umbrellas for them, the rain fell in such aggression that it seemed to fall from the sky and up from the ground.

However, the downpour did little to still the city’s beating heart.  People ran to and fro amidst the showers and across slick cobblestoned streets.  The passion of industry was not so easily dissuaded, and even while dripping head to toe, merchants, consumers, and all manner of people went about their daily business with as much vigor as ever.  Even as seasonal storms, earlier and more aggressive than usual, battered the coastline and crept inland, the people of Arthasia’s capital seemed to take the high winds as a mere challenge, and doubled down on their business.

Far above and away so as almost to be amidst the clouds from which the gods hurled their insults, a young boy was utterly unaware of the goings-on among the city dwellers.  He looked out of one tall window with his cheek rested against palm as a man droned on about some war or other.  The professor had long ago given up on this pupil, but with no other option continued to go over the lessons.

“Lord Rudolf, can you please answer for me which general it was in 1712 that quelled the Mercian Rebellion with but a single troop under his command, despite being caught in a vise and with all supplies cut off?”

A long silence stretched out, until finally a voice broke it—that of a girl the spitting image of the disinterested boy.

“General Harald Etrescu, Magister Freyr” she said in a clear, slightly too-loud voice.  She shot a glare at her twin, who just yawned and ignored her.

“Correct once again, Lady Claudia,” their teacher, Freyr, said with a look of resignation.  He took a note in his ledger, thought for a moment, then spoke once more.

"Let's take a look at more modern history, then.  You may recall that in 1814, after the destruction of Reiherbach, or  Stârcpârâu since Liberation, General Neuhauser had driven the troops under your lord father into a corner.  Their supply line had been severed, and Neuhauser's superior forces would easily them encircle them within days.  The morale that have driven Emperor von Rosenbaum's troops was at an all time low, and there was fear of desertion.  How did His Imperial Majesty manage to turn the situation around?"

While Rudolf had begun to fiddle with a loose string on the hem of his robes, Claudia's eyes were alight. She lifted her chin with a confident grin on her face and spoke in a clear voice.

"The emperor took General Etrescu's example and expanded on his spindle tactic by adding in decoys and, most importantly, his use of subterfuge.  He had captured an expeditionary brigade and stripped them of their outfits." Her voice increased in speed, and she gesticulated as she continued. "Although the garments were in poor shape, some quite bloody, they decided to use this to their advantage.  They had gotten all the information they needed from the captives to successfully infiltrate the rebel forces, claiming they'd encountered imperial reinforcements, that they'd barely escaped with their lives, that Marquis Lichtenfeld had ceased to be neutral in the war and had sent his entire might to slaughter the rebels, that unless they fled now the gryphon would be upon them.  The genius of it all was that they made sure that their report was given as they dismounted in the midst of all the foot soldiers and general army, not simply in a private room.  It was surely the fear that infected the common soldiers that then paralyzed General Neuhauser's troops, giving Emperor Rosenbaum the time to break through before they could be completely encircled."

"Very good, Lady Claudia.  Though you could stand to catch your breath a bit."

Claudia's cheeks reddened, despite this being an all too common comment from the magister.  When it came to history, especially military history, Claudia grew animated and passionate.  Compared to her usual withdrawn, quiet attitude, it was as though she was like the wooden doll in that faerie tale that was given life.  However, very few outside of her brother and teachers saw this side of her.

"Now," Freyr continued, "can you explain the larger effect this event had on the war?"

Claudia regained her earlier vigor in the blink of an eye, the reprimand immediately forgotten.

"Due to the rumors of Marquis Lichtenfeld's assistance, the rebel forces took action against their perceived new enemy.  However, the Marquis' forces were well fed, in good health, and fully equipped, while General Neuhauser had many injured and hungry men, and they were going against a stronghold while being exposed entirely on Arden Hill, and in Neuhauser's anger he had ridden the horses hard, his troops struggling to keep up and many were left behind.  Lichtenfeld, on the other hand, had a standing army which was regarded as one of the most disciplined and well-trained in the Empire."  She saw Freyr's lopsided smirk and took care to slow down, somewhat.  "This poorly planned act of revenge led to Neuhauser's troops being routed, and Neuhauser himself was killed in battle.  Rather than defeating their enemy, they instead gave the marquis just cause for joining the war on the side of the empire.  Until their foolish action, the marquis had been loathe to join either side in the Brothers' War, but now he had added his powerful army to Emperor Rosenbaum's.  It was the turning point in the war, and after the Siege at Brynwal nary three months later, Artholdt von Rosenbaum, the Fool Emperor, was defeated and executed, and is what set the stage for the reforms and peace treaties that we have today.  Indeed, if the elder of the brothers had emerged the victor, we'd still be warring with the north, and in Dohar they would have--"

She was interrupted by a loud, rude noise sounding from her side.  Both Claudia and Freyr turned to look at Rudolf, the former with venom in her eyes and the latter with exhaustion.  Rudolf just smirked.

"We get it already, you're a big smartass aiming to become spinster for life.  You're sooo intelligent, knowing all about shit from years and years ago." He sneered.  "What use it knowing all this anyway?  Especially for you, when you're just extra baggage that'll just get married off as soon as--"

"Oh yes wow, if only I were like you, acting out like a child throwing a tantrum and putting on airs of superiority even though you couldn't pick your nose without written instructions.  Honestly, I fear for the future of Arthasia if it's left in hands as incompetent as yours."

Rudolf got up from his desk and spat right into Claudia's face, his own identical features twisted up into a mask of rage.

"Stupid cunt!"

"Puerile layabout!"

"Nagging bitch!"

"Insipid, unoriginal, petty, selfish brat!"

"Even a blind man would be too put off by you to fuck you!"

In the blink of an eye, Claudia had rushed at her twin.  Her face was blank, yet she was practically buzzing with rage, and she shoved him to the ground.  As she lifted her fist to punch him, her arm was grabbed and she was hoisted off. She twisted to claw at her captor but stopped short.  It was not her teacher who had intervened, but a sharp featured man with deep red hair and fine clothing.  He had a lazy smile on his face.

"While I approve of you standing up for yourself, assaulting the heir apparent isn't exactly a good look.  Even if he is a little jackass."

Although his words were nonchalant, Claudia sensed the disappointment in his voice and instantly deflated.

"I'm sorry, Mana," she murmured.

The Minister of Finance, Manafrier Horos, released her arm and patted her on the head before he turned to Rudolf.  

Blahblahblah boring boring blahblah

It had been no more than twenty four hours when Kain first came knocking at Margot’s door in a panic. Margot had only just managed to fall asleep after her worries over Isobel being left in Kain’s care kept her mind churning well into the night.  As she rose with bleary eyes at Kain’s insistent knocking and distressed voice, Margot felt that perhaps those worries were not so unfounded.  She hurried to open the door.

“Margot, Margot, I’ve lost the baby.”

A moment of confusion was soon replaced by a wave of dread.  Margot put aside her anger for the moment and quickly put on her boots and a coat.  Kain just stood fidgeting and pulling at his hair, which was in a state of especial disarray.  He seemed completely out of his element, his usual expression of bored inattention replaced by a wild eyed, frantic look.  It was her first time ever seeing the captain so visibly upset, but she had no time to relish this turn of events.  She grabbed the oil lamp from her bedside table, lit it, and rushed out of the room.

“What even do you mean, you lost her?”

“That’s…”  Kain seemed reluctant to answer, but at one sharp glance from Margot he hurried to continue.  “Well see, I sent her off to bed, and I was just tidying up some things at work, so when I came back to the room, well.”

Margot groaned inwardly.

“You just left a young girl alone in a strange place for gods know how many hours while you… Godsdamnit Captain, I thought you--you know what, no.  Just.  For now, let’s find Isobel.  Is Lucian already out looking?”

As Kain’s eyes slid away from hers and he hid his mouth with one hand, Margot could already deduce just what had happened.

“Okay then.  Go find him and catch him up.  The more eyes we have out searching, the sooner we will find her.  Now go.”

The distraught captain had looked as though he might argue, but Margot’s tone shut him up immediately.

When Kain came knocking at Lucian’s door, the lieutenant had been still awake.  When he was told the situation, he, much like his cousin, resisted the urge to lecture Kain and instead headed out immediately.

Nearly every member of the Strigoi had by now woken up and joined in the search.  Margot worried that such a large group looking for her might scare Isobel away, but with the amount of ground to cover, she said nothing as they dispersed through the neighborhood.  Margot had stayed behind with Kain and Lucian to continue searching the grounds of the church, and because she suspected that Isobel might be more willing to appear if her guardian were there.

It was a strained two hours.  With every fifteen minutes that passed, Kain’s demeanor grew more and more sullen.  Even Margot could not work up the heart to reprimand him when she saw him in that state.  He paced to and fro, arms crossed, one hand over his mouth as ever-growing worries pushed his shoulders down further and further.  Every negative report increased his frenetic pace, until it seemed he would burn through the floorboards themselves.

After two hours, his self-restraint broke, and Kain sat heavily on the top of his desk as he opened a bottle of whiskey.  Without a word he upended it.  Lucian had just returned from a thorough sweep of the attic with nothing to report for it.  He took a seat at one of the nearby chairs to catch his breath.  The three of them sat in a circle, all staring at their hands.  They had not the energy to say so much as a word, a heavy silence stretching between them.   As they all gathered themselves to resume the search, a small noise sounded from within one of Kain’s innumerable cabinets.  They turned as one.  Lucian, the nearest to it, knelt down beside the small doors at the bottom and carefully opened one.

Inside, Isobel was curled up with Pisica in her tiny arms, both slumbering peacefully.  When Kain saw this, the air went out of him in an audible whoosh.  Margot, too, felt her heart leap when she laid eyes upon the very much safe and sound Isobel.  While they all took a moment to thank whatever fates may be, Lucian and Margot then swiftly turned to fix Kain with looks of indignation.  The captain, meanwhile, put on an arrogant face, though the color that rose to his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment.

“What!?  How could I have known she was there!?”

Kain looked at Lucian from across the small wooden table, a wolfish grin on his face.  There was a familiar glint in his blue eyes, one that spoke to depths of maliciousness and mischievousness that would not be out of place on a big cat prowling for prey.

“If they insist on referring to us as such, then why not give them the satisfaction?  We will be the demons here to suck the corrupt blood out of the sickly body we call our country.  The strigoi—indeed, we will lap up to the last drop the blood of cowards, murderers, and thieves.  What better cure for those hounds of hell than another of hell’s denizens?”

He took a satisfied swig of his tuica, seeming very pleased indeed with his quick wit.  Lucian shivered at the ferocity in his friend’s voice.  Ever since the terrorist attack in 1833, a change had come over Kain.  While he had always been bright but terminally unmotivated, after the death of the emperor and his brother’s secession, something had pushed Kain to action.  For the first time in his life, he had a goal.  Nothing so grand as political ambitions, yet the idea had come to him after reading the small publications on the future of science as a means to further criminal justice.  While many of these reports had been a laughstock to the traditionalists of Arthasia’s old guard, dismissed as magic and the stuff of fairytales, Kain had devoured them.  This had culminated in his meeting with Dezso, the Minister of Public Order of Arthasia, where he pushed aside his fear of the Minister and, after many hours of intense discussion, was permitted the freedom to create this new organization.

The other nobles had been outraged, especially once they saw the initial round of recruits.

“That bastard has finally lost his mind, letting commoners and criminals hold rank.”

“As though he weren’t sucking the life out of the Empire enough with all of his spoiled aspirations, now this?”

“Indeed, it’s as though he’s a devil in barely human clothing.”

“A strigoi!”

[dinas-y-cerrig]

Chapter I (rough draft, 1846 timeline) ~7 pages

After nearly a month of perfect service, the trains were running late once more.  Today, of all days. Margot was half-convinced that those idyllic three weeks of flawless service had simply been to lull her into a false sense of security, just so that life in its unceasing cruelty might extend a leg to bring her future crashing down.  Not content only with its vicious jape with the trains, but at her transfer station she had forgotten her coinpurse behind at the coffee stand when her connecting train had arrived earlier than expected.  She had been forced to make a mad dash through the commuter crowd, both purse and tepid station coffee left on the booth's sill.

Now, pressed up against a fogged window and squeezed tight between a man who reeked of sick and sweat and another who smelled arguably worse of oversaturated cologne, Margot lamented.  Her bleary, frazzled mind could not decide which she regretted abandoning more, the purse or the coffee.  As the man to her left let out a noise somewhere in between a belch and wet vomit, Margot firmly decided that at least the coffee might have given her the mental clarity to have wedged herself elsewhere.

(etc etc trains suck, margot's thoughts wander along the lines of “didn't they just finish two months' worth of renovations holy fucking shit fuck!!!” eventually gets off at her stop and wanders around slushy icy gross as shit winter and winding streets of city central aka what is fondly & accurately referred to as “tangled sheep's entrails” until she finally arrives at the address given. Front of the building is a great façade of veined marble in a state of obvious neglect, goes in, sits and waits to be seen)

When the second hour had come and gone, Margot despaired again at the thought of her lost coffee and purse.  Certainly, Captain Eirwel must be a busy man, but could he not have notified her of the delay, or at least have an aide sent out to let her know how much longer she might be waiting?  She put her watch away and stared gloomily at her boots.

"It's been a while, May."

The chipper voice shook Margot out of her reverie.  She looked up to see a tall man with a clipboard and shining hazel eyes.  He wore the black uniform of the brigade with its owl insignia.  His hair was brown, yet despite his young age there was a considerable amount of grey peppered in.  While his long face had a comely cast to it, his nose had a noticeable kink in it, turning slightly to the right.  Margot stood and reached out to shake his hand, but stopped short as she noticed it was occupied by a mug. The man laughed and lifted it slightly towards her.

"Actually, this is for you.  It's coffee, although if you'd prefer I can get you tea instead."

"No, please--I mean, thank you. Coffee would be lovely," Margot said.  She accepted the mug with eager hands and took a sip of the still-hot brew.  "Thank you, Mr., ah..."

The man blinked a few times, and then a strangely familiar, lopsided smile came over his face.  All at once Margot put the pieces together.  She had been so out of it that the nickname he had called her by had gone in one ear and out the other, but as he gave a self deprecating chuckle it clicked in her head. The embarrassment of it all turned her face red to her ears.

"Fritz!?"

"That is indeed me."

Margot took another look.  It had been so many years since she had seen her cousin, and despite the letters they exchanged she had been taken by surprise.  The last she had seen him, she had been twelve and her cousin had been about sixteen, short for his age and still padded by baby fat.  Now he had to be easily over six foot, slim and fit.  The greying hair had not helped.

"Though, er, most everyone just uses my middle name these days.  I have the captain to thank for thank," he added with a sheepish grin.  "Ah, and speaking of the captain, as much as I'd love to catch up, he's expecting us. If you'll just follow me, and do feel free to bring the coffee with you."

Margot nodded appreciatively, although her face still burned.  While Fritz--Lucian, she made a mental correction--did not seem terribly bothered, it had to be an incredible oversight to not even recognize one's own family, no matter how long it had been.  His transformation was quite something. She wondered at the late bloomer.

As they walked down the narrow hall with its creaking floorboards, Margot glanced about at the sparse furnishings.  There were a number of branching hallways off of the main one; obviously the spacious interior of the church had been converted into some ramshackle interior.  They passed outdated portraits of the late Emperor Friedrich III, as well as of the imperial twins Rudolf and Claudia--albeit as toddlers.  Other than that, the hallway was quite bare.  Even the carpet was faded and well-worn, mimicking the look of decrepit grandeur that hung over the ancient church.  However, she did not have long to dwell over what she saw, and her attention was drawn back to Lucian as he spoke up.

"I'm really quite sorry about the delay.  The captain had some, er, sudden visitors he had to attend to."

"Oh, it was no bother at all," Margot lied.  "The trains were delayed this morning, so I arrived a bit late anyway.  Honestly peaking, I was worried that perhaps I'd missed my chance and he'd decided not to see me."

"Ah yes, the good old city rail, eh?  You'd think that after all of the money that's been put into renovating it they would at least be able to run on time."  Lucian sighed, obviously another victim of the horrors of public transportation.  "Well do I remember those thankless morning commutes!"

Margot nodded in agreement.  A question that she had pondered when first her cousin had sent her notice of this job popped into her head.

"So what exactly do they have you doing here?  You weren't very clear in the letters.  I get that this is some kind of specialized police force, but..."

"Well, I am supposed to be a lieutenant, however the captain seems to think that means 'secretary'.  We've been trying to fill the position, but every new hire seems to leave after no time at all.  Not that I blame them..."  Lucian caught himself, putting a hand over his mouth. "Ah, please disregard what I just said.  Just a silly joke."

He coughed slightly and continued.

"As for what we do, well, it's not something I can exactly discuss with you just yet.  I'll let the captain explain, as we've arrived."

They had stopped in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors framed on either side by tapestries of the von Rosenbaum family crest and the Arthasian flag. As Lucian knocked thrice upon the carved mahogany, a wave of anxiety pricked at the back of Margot's head.  She took a deep breath as Lucian opened the doors, giving herself one last pat down and hoping that she did not look too haggard.

She couldn't help but gasp as she stepped in.

The room was, to put it gently, a wreck.  Papers littered the floor and were piled up among hazardous towers of books and folders.  Margot was so mesmerized by the utter chaos that it took her a second to notice the man seated behind the desk in the center of the room.  He was framed on either side by more haphazard constructions of books and paper, and his appearance reflected the disorder that plagued the office. His black hair was a mess of tangles and loose strands, and it looked as though it had not seen a comb in months.  He had his head bent over a sheaf of paper and one finger tapped out a staccato rhythm against the cover of a thick tome beside him.

It was Lucian's voice that broke through Margot's baffled yet rapt concentration.

"Sir, your appointment is here," he said with a salute.  Margot waited next to him in silence, but the captain showed no sign that he had heard, instead jotting something down as he ran his other hand through the rat's nest disguised as hair.  Lucian cleared his throat and repeated himself, albeit, Margot noticed, considerably louder and with a slight edge.

"Your interview, sir?"

Captain Eirwel's eyes flashed up and fixed first Lucian, then Margot, with an icy stare.  Margot couldn't help but notice, even in the dim light, just how intensely blue those eyes were.  His mouth curled downward, and he waved his hand.

"Yes, yes of course," he said with something of a huff.  "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Sir."

Lucian saluted and stepped back, closing the doors behind him.  Margot was left in this stuffy warzone with the man who was supposed to be the captain of this police force.  She marveled at just how little Captain Eirwel fit the idea she had had in her head.  Her cousin had mentioned that his childhood friend turned captain did not quite fit into the noble society around him, his letters had obviously diminished the extremity of Eirwel's image.  There had been a time many years ago that her parents had gone to Brynwal when a young Kain Eirwel had had a particularly bad fever and a snowstorm had trapped them there.  She wracked her brain, trying to remember what he had been like at the time, but it had been so long ago that she could not picture it. She was certain, however, that he had grown into quite the unique adult.  As he was the bastard child of the previous emperor, an honor student of Lindenburg, and the captain of a specialized police force, she had imagined someone with regal bearing and an intimidating air.  However, the only thing intimidating her just then was how someone could manage to make such a complete mess of a room.  Indeed, it must take a spectacular talent, she concluded.

As she was taking in the scene around her, the captain narrowed his eyes and gestured to a chair near the desk.  It was, like every other surface in the room, stacked with so many books and boxes that Margot wondered at the ability this man had for keeping them from toppling over.

"You can just set those wherever," Eirwel said with a dry voice, not budging from his own seat.  Suppressing a sigh, Margot carefully removed the clutter and set it aside; the floor was almost completely hidden, so she settled for simply adding the objects to other towers.  After a minute of rearranging, she brought the chair forward and sat.  She was about to speak, but Eirwel had disappeared behind the mountains of papers on his desk.  Margot waited awkwardly until he straightened back up, a torn and crumpled sheet in his hand.

"Quite the impressive resume you have here.  It says you graduated the Royal Medical School with honors, and a year early on top of that," Eirwel said in a disinterested voice.  "All of your references check out, and your experience is laudable for someone so young."

When she had realized that what he held in his hand was her letter of introduction, Margot had been unable to stop herself from flinching.  She supposed she should count herself lucky that the captain had it at all, but never had she seen someone so totally disregard basic etiquette.  As well, despite his apparent praise, Eirwel's voice seemed bored and condescending.  He was only a few years older than her, yet it was as though he were speaking to a child.  Margot grit her teeth and bit back the many things on the tip of her tongue.  Eirwel did not seem to notice her tension and continued.

"Well, it's good enough for me. When can you start?"

His comment caught Margot completely off guard.  She had been practicing possible interview questions and responses for the last few weeks with her cat, Pisica, and even had her friend Rufus help her prepare.  For her references she had even gone out of her way to visit them personally to receive documentation of her work experience, going so far as Bridgetown at the outskirts of Mercia.  She sat speechless; she knew she should be overjoyed, yet she felt like the rug had been swept out from under her feet.  Eirwel leaned his cheek against one hand and looked at her expectantly.

"Your answer?"

"Sir, I am flattered, but... is there nothing you wish to ask of me?  Or check, or..."  Margot fumbled for words.

"To be completely honest, I don't really care.  Everything here looks fine, so why not?" Eirwel said, slapping at the ratty missive.  "So are you going to accept the job, or have you come here just to waste my time?"

Despite his scathing and hypocritical comment, Margot could not work up the energy to get mad.  Well, it pays well, and it's quite the position, she thought in resignation.  She nodded curtly.

"My apologies sir.  I would be honored to accept.  I can begin immediately."

The captain leaned back in his chair and nodded.

"Welcome to the Strigoi, Miss Merryweather."

After everything that had happened, Margot did not even have the energy to correct the captain on her name.

Captain Eirwel had taken Margot's offer of immediate work quite literally.  He sent her out to fetch him some documents from the storeroom, where she met a tall, spindly woman named Cosmina Belu.  From the few things Lucian had told her about the Strigoi, she knew that their ranks were a bit unusual in comparison to the City Watch.  Indeed, she had seen a number of women around, and more than a few people of different nationalities and backgrounds.  Belu was evidently the manager of the archives, and her image fit exactly what one might expect of someone in that position.  She had horn rimmed glasses and her black hair was pulled tight in a bun.  Her outfit was black as well and cut much like the robes of a librarian.  She gave off every impression of severity, however when she spoke her voice was surprisingly warm and friendly.

Unlike the captain's room, the archives were notably clean and well organized. Catching Margot's surprise, Belu smirked.

"We make it a rule to ban the captain from so much as setting foot in here.  I'm sure you can see why."

Although Margot could agree wholeheartedly with that decision, she was a bit shocked at the casual comment berating Eirwel.  As her surname suggested, Belu was of a common background, and to hear her openly chide a noble--even a noble such as Captain Eirwel--was something Margot did not expect.

Margot left the storeroom with the materials requested and returned to the captain's office, where Eirwel just shuffled her off once more, this time to deliver the folders to a certain Corporal Tahoma Niyaani.  With Lucian's help, she found him in the large, open room full of desks where most of the force were.

Corporal Niyaani was a large, muscular man with short cropped hair and a large tattoo down one side of his face.  His brow was furrowed and his dark brown eyes focused intensely on a set of blueprints before him.  However, despite his imposing appearance, when Margot cleared her throat and presented the materials Eirwel had sent with her, Niyaani's face broke into a friendly smile.

"Just what I am waiting for," he said with a heavy SaaLyni accent.  "You are the new one?  I am Corporal Niyaani, the masochist."

Margot stared at him, not sure if she had heard him correctly.

"It's machinist, Niyaani. How many times do I have to tell you," a man at the desk across from Niyaani said with a wide grin.  Niyaani's eyebrows knit together.

"This is what I said, Maddox."

The other man, a tan and wiry man with curly black hair, just gave an exaggerated sigh and dramatic shrug.

"Please do forgive our good man.  He's only been in the Empire for five damn years now."

Niyaani frowned and waved Maddox away.

"It is not being five years here, only one, before I am in Lidia.  You are knowing this, Maddox."

Maddox stood up and slapped Niyaani on the back.  They seemed to be good friends, despite the verbal sparring.

"It's good to meet ya," Maddox said as he turned to Margot.  "I'm Corporal Parsifal Maddox, and this big lug, despite his appearance, is our very talented machinist and tinkerer.  You wouldn't think it to look at those bear paws he calls hands, but he's got the dexterity of a fox."

"Pleased to meet you as well," Margot said, accepting Maddox's outstretched hand.  "I'm Margot Mayweather."

"The captain sure is a slave driver, huh?  I'd heard there was a new interview for secretary today, but to think he'd have you running hither thither already."

"Ah, no, I think you're mistaken.  I'm here as a division medic," Margot corrected him with a gentle smile, but something about his comment sent a needle of doubt through her head.  Maddox and Niyaani looked at each other, then to Margot, and that needle became a sharp blade.

"No, really, the captain was just saying that our new hire was the secretary.  He even let Gartner do his actual damn job."

The smile on Margot's face stiffened, and a vein stood out at her neck as she clenched her jaw hard.

"If you will please excuse me."

She left the two bewildered men and walked with brisk purpose back out into the hallway.  As she increased her pace she nearly bowled over Lucian as he passed her, but she did not so much as slow down.  Reaching the large doors to the captain's office, she slammed them open without warning and stormed up to his desk.  Before Eirwel could utter a single complaint, Margot slammed her hands as hard as she could against the mahogany, sending a small hurricane of papers flying. The captain opened his mouth with a scowl but Margot cut him off.

"Your fucking secretary? Are you kidding me?  What in the nine hells is this?  I waited for over two hours this morning, I spent weeks gathering references, I have bent over backwards for this damned job, and you have me as a secretary?" she shouted, unable to stop herself.  "Is this some kind of joke?  Is this your idea of humor?  Because let me tell you, it is in very fucking poor taste.  Do you have any idea how hard I have worked to get here?  And you're just treating me as some errand girl?"

Her loud voice had brought Lucian into the room, his face concerned.  As Margot took a deep breath to continue, however, Lucian placed a hand on her shoulder.

"May, please, what is--"

"Don't you dare talk to me like some kind of child!" she snapped at him, swiping his hand away.  "I may be a woman, but I am not here to just run around playing secretary."

When she saw Lucian's confusion, she finally relented.  Her cousin suddenly shot a look at Captain Eirwel, and his face turned stern.

"Captain, is what she's saying true?" he said in a low voice.  "Please forgive me for speaking out of turn, but this is just cruel, deceiving someone this way..."

Margot was surprised by the disappointment in Lucian's voice.  She turned her gaze toward the captain.  Once again he had a bored look on his face, and she felt the rage bubbling up again when he finally spoke.

"Just what exactly is the issue here?"

That was the last straw.

"I answered a call for a doctor, sir, not a secretary.  As you yourself said, I graduated with honors, I have field work, I have worked through blood, sweat, and fucking tears to get to where I am today, and you expect me to accept a job with the salary of a simple clerk?"

"Well, yes, a simple clerk wouldn't receive the same pay of a skilled worker.  That stands to reason.  But why does that bother you?  You're to be paid half again as much."

"Why does that bother me?" Margot's voice lowered but the poison in it grew only more toxic.  "Great, so I can get paid what is still a fraction of what I'd get just working at a bloody medical outpost?  Oh, how very gracious of you.  But I am a doctor, and I plan to work as such."

Captain Eirwel's eyes clouded over, and he furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?  Of course you're working as such.  When did I ever say you weren't?"

Both Lucian and Margot stared at the captain, mouths open.  When the silence stretched on, Eirwel ran one hand through his unruly hair and leaned back.

"Then what was all this about a secretary?" Margot finally managed.

"Well, it's not as though you're going to be setting bones or stitching wounds or whatever all the time.  Wouldn't you rather get some extra pay to assist with clerical duties in the downtime?"  Eirwel's voice was exasperated.  "You'll get half again what your salary would be otherwise.  It's a considerable amount just for some light clerical work.  I'd say that's a pretty damn good deal."

The wind went out of Margot's sails with such rapidity that she felt herself deflate.  This man who sat before her was, quite possibly, one of the most frustrating people she had ever met, or indeed ever would meet.  There were a number of choice words that came to mind, but all of today's mental gymnastics left her drained and finished. She was sure that she had managed now to lose the job she had started that very day, yet she felt no remorse over her actions.  This all could have been avoided had this dense man just spoken directly.  Ah, four hours.  That must be a world record for getting let go from a job, she thought bitterly.

"If that'll be all," Captain Eirwel said, returning to his papers.  "Then you may return to work."

Margot's head snapped up.  Just when she thought this day could get no more convoluted, another twist had been tacked on.  She felt a hand on her shoulder, and this time did not smack it away. Lucian gave her a smile that spoke of heartfelt apology and led her back out.

"Ah... I'm really sorry about him.  He's, uhm, how should I put it." Lucian stared at the ceiling as he searched for the proper words. "Well, let's just say that our captain may be very capable at his job, but when it comes to speaking to people he sometimes doesn't quite get his point across."

"You don't say," Margot replied wearily.  She had no more energy to spare for Captain Eirwel.

"Head on home for today, May," Lucian suggested kindly.  "I promise you he really isn't always quite so difficult."

Something in Lucian's voice made Margot suspect that he was not being entirely truthful, but she decided to take him up on his suggestion and head home.  She needed to give some serious thought to what she had just gotten involved in.

And Pisica was probably hungry, anyway.

After seeing May off, Lucian turned and headed back to the captain's office.  He knocked and entered without waiting for a response, careful to shut the door completely behind him.  Behind the desk, Kain Eirwel shrunk back ever so slightly, glowering warily at his lieutenant.

"Look, it's not my fault that she didn't--"

"Don't even try to excuse yourself here, Kain," Lucian said.  "You can't take out your anger from this morning on everyone around you.  I understand that the Minister's hound threw you off today, but we desperately need trained medical staff.  After what happened last week... Petrescu would still be alive if you hadn't put this off.  And now you want to drive away the one doctor willing to work here despite the reputation we have?  She may be my cousin, but I will not force her to stay if she decides she's had enough of your childishness."

It was rare indeed for Lucian to speak so harshly toward the captain.  They had known each other since childhood, but it still took Kain off guard when his mild friend lost his temper, and the mention of poor Officer Petrescu sent a sharp twist of shame through Kain's chest.  The boy, barely even twenty, had joined only weeks earlier, but he had been stabbed while out on patrol, and in the time it took them to locate him and then find a clinic with any staff around at that late hour he had died of his injuries.  The nature of their jobs meant late nights, and it had become obvious that they needed proper medical staff on call.  Due to the negative reputation of the Strigoi, though, they had had a difficult time finding anyone.  Even one person was better than none, and someone with the qualifications that Margot had was rare to come by.  

Kain looked away, his face flushed as he realized that he had indeed crossed a line. However, his pride did not let him simply apologize and move forward.

"Well, you were the one complaining about being treated like a secretary," Kain said peevishly.  "It was giving me a headache.  In fact, you should be thanking me for being so resourceful!"

The deadpan stare Lucian directed at Kain shut him up.  He sighed heavily and threw up his arms.

"Fine. Fine.  I promise to apologize to her tomorrow."

"For your own sake, I pray that you do."

[dinas-y-cerrig]

A story of drunks and dogs.

------

Where even was he?

The last thing Kain remembered before waking up was a slew of lights, noise, and a lurching feeling in the pit of his stomach. When he came to he was amongst trash and dark.  Sounds leaked down the alley muffled as though through wool, and as he craned his aching neck to the left he saw warm light reflecting off of the wet stone. Voices now and again came through sharp and jarring; late-night party goers still on their jaunts.  The time was unclear to Kain, though he knew that he had left the dorms around lights-out.  As it was still so dark, he figured it must be somewhere around midnight.  So then, just a few hours lost.  He eased himself up from the damp ground and soggy trash, sniffing himself in disdain.  As he stood, the world swam around him for an instant, but he regained his balance against a rotting wooden box.

First things first.  He had to figure out where, exactly, he had ended up.  Crusted blood clogged his right nostril and stained his chin.  He did his best to rub it away; nosebleeds were an annoyance he had grown used to.  He cleared his throat, dusted himself off, and made his way to the street, scaring a cat in the meantime.  Watching the animal scramble off, Kain offered a useless apology under his breath.

The street he came out to was more of an ambling tunnel with the buildings crowding overhead.  Judging from the crooked archways and other small side streets curling off into the night, he must be in the old town.  Locals fondly referred to the area as the sheep's entrails for the tangled and meandering roads that criss-crossed it much like its nickname suggested.  Kain sighed heavily and nursed his forehead.  Lucian and Fritz both had nothing but disinterest for the scene around here, and Lucian especially found the opium dens and shady bars repulsive.  No wonder, then, that neither of them are around, Kain thought, although he knew that they had left together.  At what point had they separated?  And just what had he imbibed that could have caused such a blackout?  Despite the initial disorientation, his senses were starting to come back to him and he did not feel drunk or otherwise intoxicated.  He rubbed his temples, trying to recall just what exactly had happened.  They had all decided to go out as a going away party for Fritz; it had been decided that he would attend the peace talks with Bundrweald.  It would be his first international appearance as crown prince, and although he would be there as a witness the duty itself was a great honor.  Or so it was said.  Kain personally found all of the pomp and glamor grating, just more self-congratulation.  However, he did want to support his brother, and he and Lucian had coerced Fritz out to celebrate.

Yet here he was, alone.  The situation confounded him.  It had been so long since he had lost time like this, and the last time...

He shook his head.  Lost in thought, he had ended up at a street full of dives and raucous revelers.  The sudden jarring cry of a trumpet startled him, and he turned to call out the idiot who had thought to sound a trumpet right into his ear.

The street was empty.  Utterly abandoned.  Even the lights seemed to have dimmed and lost their color.  It wasn't as though everyone had just gone into the various establishments along the road; rather, it was like they had vanished utterly, along with all of the usual sounds of the city.  Everything seemed muted, and even as Kain took a step forward, the sound of his boot against the cobbled street was swallowed up.  He opened his mouth to speak, and his words were stolen by something that should not be.

A long, pale creature lay there before him, draped down from a balcony above, its abnormally long body reaching far back into the dim light.  Its fur was white and hung from its body in sheets.  A single, gleaming eye stared out at Kain from a canine face, and as he stared back, frozen in terror, the aberration opened its maw wide.  Its teeth shone in the muted light, row upon row of sharp fangs, and what appeared to be its tongue lolled from its mouth.  The appendage dripped with saliva, an overly long, red rope that reminded him of the name of the very place they were.  It looked more like an animal's insides than a tongue, and as he tried to process what he was seeing, a sound came from deep within the creature.  What started as a dull rumble rose to a crackling laugh, and in horror he realised that the beast was laughing.  A chorus of distorted voices came together as the thing spoke.

"A   nd wwwh      at do  

we haaa ve

here?"

[dinas-y-cerrig]

crow sister narrative

Where to begin this story?  Sis would have no problem instantly elucidating a perfect opening stage, but well, one could argue that it's exactly that mastery that has led us here.  I'm not sure I'd wholly agree--somehow that seems all too blameless.  Not that she hasn't her share of blame, but.  Well.  It's "too easy". Though the problem of blame really does fall to the reader.  I'm just presenting the facts, as they happened, with as little personal embellishment as is possible in a story involving oneself.  You'll have to trust me, though I've not the qualifications Sis does.

Just trust me.

Isn't that supposed to be an unspoken vow between reader and narrator?  The inherent trust, no need to affirm--this situation, however, requires confirmation.  Firm words. At the very least, it requires no more vague wordplay or soliloquy that could compound the issue at hand.

The issue.

Our bodies, of course.  Or, to be more precise, our existence.  But to understand all of that.

To understand the situation behind this farce.

I suppose I'd have to go back to the day she met him.

The summer of 1689 was particularly remarkable for its ferocity.  Much like the animal of their nation's flag, that summer was a powerful, heavy thing--a tiger's summer.  The torpid heat had come lumbering out of the east, over the plateaus and deserts of Medina, Dohar, and beyond, an aged heat that seemed to distort the very fabric of space itself.  It manifested itself as an especially cruel presence upon reaching the straits, taking on a thick and sticky humidity as it settled over the Yasae archipelago. There was no escape even in the peaks of Hollo's mountains.  It was there, in the northernmost of the island, where on a clear day one could see clear across to Medina, that the heat succeeded in thoroughly disrupting the habits of a particular shut-in.  Indeed, it prompted this shut-in to become more of a shut-out, the heat so oppressive that it effectively did what this recluse's own kin could not; it drove Bianca Ioneszca out of the small room she had, six months prior, shut herself away in.  Though that was not to say that she was particularly antisocial--she enjoyed company just fine, but her constitution was one that could only concentrate on one task at a time, otherwise she would end up exhausted and drained.  It was, therefore, not out of disdain for her fellow man, but out of necessity that she had locked herself away in that small, stuffy closet-turned-study in the two room house she shared with her sister Viorica.  For Bianca had before her a monumental task, one which she had taken to with such soldier-like austerity that Viorica now had been pleading, even bribing, her to leave the house and get some fresh air.  Just a bit.  But Bianca had steadfastly refused, time and again, her younger sister's attempts at camaraderie.  Besides, Viorica surely couldn't complain--it was this same skill that Bianca so adamantly put herself to that had allowed them these six months of relative luxury.

To put it simply, Bianca's hobby grown out of a busy mind hungry for any release, or might it be compared to a monster that needed distraction, in any case, she had somehow managed to get a piece of her writing to press.  It had been under a pseudonym, of course, and had been more of a wager from a former colleague at the monastery-turned-full-time print and press factory she had worked at, yet somehow it seemed to have gained quite the following among the educated types among the upper echelons of the company and their ilk.  For a young girl whose duties consisted, somehow, solely of cleaning and tidying up--with all of that inkwork you'd have thought they might have at least allowed her some basic scripture duties!--this exposure was unheard of.  Although it had lost traction outside of the confines of the business and surrounding town, it had provided her with a neat and unexpected lump of funds gathered from patrons who, upon hearing that the author was a young man in work rather than school, had taken it upon themselves to get together the means for this talent to attend university to polish their skills.  However, once word got around that the writer was, in actuality, a young woman, therefore banning her from any academic setting, they had suddenly withdrawn their offers of support.  What had been left was a sum they supposed she deserved--a young woman living on her own, after all, how pitiable, never mind that she lived with her sister, even more depressing--and once passed on to her they had thus retreated, as though fearing to contract ill.  It was a great opportunity for Bianca though, despite the rather harsh and frivolous rumors that had arisen once her gender discovered.  She decided to take the time to leave work and find for her and Viorica a home of their own--they had until now lived from room to room, a series of cheap and poor rentals.  This was decidedly safer for two young women on their own, and it would provide her an opportunity to indulge herself.  For the success that she had tasted, although brief, had lit in her a fierce desire to gamble all on the chance that maybe, just maybe, she could do this as a proper living.

That maybe she could be a writer after all.

Although now, six months down the line and their reserve funds dwindling, with the ending of the piece still a convoluted mystery even to her, the author, it seemed that maybe hers had been a fleeting and foolish dream after all.

Thus it was that, as the heat bore down on her from all sides and the humidity turned her cozy-hole into a hazy-hell, Bianca Ioneszca descended from her seclusion to the town of Marta.  As it so happened, that day was the farmer's market, and the town square had become a bustle of activity, even in this heat. Having hoped for a quiet corner to sit and observe people as she jotted down notes, Bianca was thoroughly disappointed in the liveliness of the market.  However it was the first in a long time she had allowed herself time to idle, and she was determined to get some sort of escape from the heat, even if only distraction.  It was to be expected that someone so ill-suited to the atmosphere might stand out, though to most she would rather seem a hazy existence, too dim and wavering to much mind, yet to another who patrolled the grounds in the search of something, some escape from the mundane, she stood out like a beacon.

It just so happened.

It just so happened that that person was Eduard Yagyateri.

Like two moths to a flame, like one drowning person to another, clinging for life yet bringing them both down.  On a distant summer day, in this distinct summer heat.

That was how the two stars to our tragedy met.

Yagyateri came from a long line of wool farmers, a meddling middling muddling son in a large family of dyers, shavers, washers, pickers, carders, a name dyed in its own craft; Yagyu- sheep, ter, textile, i. I.  Personal reflexive.  His father had something of a wool monopoly over Hollo, and Yagyateri Fabrics were a high-fashion item.  Many of his sisters had made picturesque matches with other high-minded families, of all sorts of high-life high-lights.  Many of his brothers had got pretty picturesque wives, and the pretty picturesque family was frequently host to frivolous follies where all and company danced and preened. It was, for all intents and purposes, of which they had many, a family on the rise to something approaching stardom  Or, something less anachronistic at least.  Quite the talk of the town, quite an assured life of prim and posh.  Something others yearn for, Eduard Yagyateri possessed.

And it was slowly driving him mad.

Every day a pretty maid greeting him in the morning, afternoon tea, Does Master Take Cream and Sugar? Yes, Yes, and to sport.  A light workout, cricket on the garden, and back to towel down as the heat reaches its apex.  Then a light nap, or quiet reading, followed by aperetifs and quaint chatter.  As all parties wend their way to the courtyard it all winds down to a feast under the brilliant summer stars.

Just like clockwork.  Just round and round and round.  It was enough to make a man sell his soul for a single diversion.  But three-and-twenty years of gadabout roundabout and Eduard was fit to burst.  He had gone off to Wellbridge--Hellbridge! he'd spit--to pursue a study in poetry, and after four years of fawning foreplay disguised as art and no real passions beside, Eduard was back at home.   He was stewing, stirring, quivering with anticipation and restlessness, and his father had allowed him a summer to think over his plans for the future, fully expecting him to fall in with the rest of the family.  To Hell with that! would be Eduard's reaction, and he had set upon himself to find something, anything, that would provide him even the slightest amusement, interest, or diversion, something to save him from this endless hell known as easy living.

That afternoon he had fled the family's estate to wander around the market.  His sister Angeline had made some comment about his uselessness, and all in a huff Eduard had stormed out.  He had burst forth like a thundercloud and descended upon the market in a frenetic state.  Going from booth to booth, he was greeted by most everyone.  Ah, yes, the young master Yagyateri. He felt sick with himself, sick with the world.

While he was absorbed in this sordid state of self-pity, he continued to mill about.  It was as the sun was peaking that his attention was drawn to a small, dark-haired woman.  She was short and stout, quite homely really, and her oversized glasses made her look like a frantic bug.  It seemed she had lost something, as she was kneeling down--without a care in the world, there, in the dirt!--and reaching under a table.  Eduard couldn't help but chuckle to himself, just a bit, at how silly this dumpy woman appeared, and when she was kicked by a stray boot in her search he let out a laugh.  That was his undoing.  Having straightened herself up, the woman turned her head at his sharp note of amusement.  He paled.  How uncouth.  Although she was a far cry from beauty, she was still a woman, and it was crass of him to laugh at her circumstances.  He cleared his throat, and was about to speak when she turned abruptly and dashed away.  Feeling incredibly off-pace, he stood there stunned.  When he turned to sulk away, his foot came down upon a sheet of paper.  He bent down to scoop it up and, curious, turned it over.  Finally settling himself down in as much an out of the way place as he could find, he took some time to read over the contents of the page.

It was

Fantastic.

Riveting, really.

He read hungrily, his eyes hastening along each and every line until, midway through a sentence, the page ended abruptly.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

The Arthasian Empire

miscellaneous notes, mostly concerning rt1 plotline. Will add more here n there. Currently the imperial throne belongs to the twins Rudolf and Sonja [Eirwel, name due to change], while they are underage the rule in fact lies with the Minister of Public Affairs Deszo [???need to rename surname]. Previous emperor Friedrich III [Eirwel] was assassinated during what has been officially reported as an attack by SaaLyni extremists. Throne bypassed his eldest son, Friedrich IV [Eirwel], who survived the train bombing but ceded his right to the throne and took the name Lorant. He is currently a recordkeeper at the Imperial Bibliothek in Lindenburg. Language While I have put my constructed languages to the side for now while I focus on pushing the story forward, I'm currently using two languages I am familiar with and semi fluent in; Romanian and German. Hungarian featured as another language spoke more in eastern Arthasia closer to Yasa. For now I'll focus on the two official languages. Much like Romania, the "official"/standard dialect follows the lowlands standard+southern and coastal dialects. The dialect in the central, northern, and northwestern mountain ranges (working to rename) sounds like the Transylvanian dialects, closer to spoken Latin and with more Dacian loanwords. German is the upper class and "learned" language, used also for all official documents and literature. However, do forgive my play on these languages.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

this is so shitty/but i'll post for friends

this is what im comicking~~~----

After nearly a month of perfect service, the trains were running late once more.  Today, of all days.  Margot was half-convinced that those idyllic three weeks of flawless service had simply been to lull her into a false sense of security, just so that life in its unceasing cruelty might extend a leg to bring her future crashing down.  Not content only with its vicious jape with the trains, but at her transfer station she had forgotten her coinpurse behind at the coffee stand when her connecting train had arrived earlier than expected.  She had been forced to make a mad dash through the commuter crowd, both purse and tepid station coffee left on the booth's sill. Now, pressed up against a fogged window and squeezed tight between a man who reeked of sick and sweat and another who smelled arguably worse of oversaturated cologne, Margot lamented.  Her bleary, frazzled mind could not decide which she regretted abandoning more, the purse or the coffee.  As the man to her left let out a noise somwhere in between a belch and wet vomit, Margot firmly decided that at least the coffee might have given her the mental clarity to have wedged herself elsewhere.

(etc etc trains suck, margot's thoughts wander along the lines of “didn't they just finish two months' worth of renovations holy fucking shit fuck!!!” eventually gets off at her stop and wanders around slushy icy gross as shit winter and winding streets of city central aka what is fondly & accurately referred to as “tangled sheep's entrails” until she finally arrives at the address given.  Front of the building is a great façade of veined marble in a state of obvious neglect, goes in, sits and waits to be seen)

When the second hour had come and gone, Margot despaired again at the thought of her lost coffee and purse.  Certainly, Major Sheerwater must be a busy man, but could he not have notified her of the delay, or at least have an aide sent out to let her know how much longer she might be waiting?  She put her watch away and stared gloomily at her boots. “Ah, you must be Miss Margot Mayweather.” The sudden voice shook Margot out of her reverie.  She looked up to see before her a rather tall man with a clipboard.  He wore a military insignia upon his breast of a rank she did not recognize, (describe insignia once designed).  His hair was a sandy blonde so pale it looked silvery white in the light of the waiting room, his face long and quite comely.  He had a noticable kink in his nose, like it had once been broken and not set correctly.  Margot stood and reached out to shake his hand, but stopped short as she noticed it was occupied by a mug.  The man laughed and lifted it slightly towards her. “Actually, this is for you.  It's coffee, although if you'd prefer I can get you tea instead.” “No, please, I mean, thank you.  Coffee would be lovely,” Margot said.  She accepted the mug with eager hands and took a sip of the still-hot brew.  “Thank you, Mr., ah...” The man slapped his hand to his forehead. “I do apologise, I entirely forgot to introduce myself!  My name is Fritz Rosenbaum, though I suppose everyone here just calls me by my middle name, Lucian.  I have Herr Kain to thank for that.”  He smiled sheepishly.  “And speaking of the major, he's expecting us.  If you'll please follow me, and do feel free to bring the coffee with you, you needn't leave it.” Margot nodded appreciatively.  She followed Lucian through the door at the back of the reception and into the hallway beyond.  There was a board just upon entering to the left, with an outdated portrait of the imperial twins Rudolf and Sonja on the right, but the hallway was otherwise quite bare.  Even the carpet was faded and well-worn, mimicking the look of decrepit grandeur that hung over what she had so far seen of the building.  However, she did not have long to dwell over what she saw, and her attention was drawn back to Lucian as he spoke again. “I'm so very sorry for the delay this morning.  The major had some rather... sudden visitors he had to attend to.” “Oh, it was no bother at all,” Margot lied.  “The trains were delayed this morning, so I arrived a bit late anyway.  Honestly speaking, I was worried that perhaps I'd missed my chance and he'd decided not to see me.” “Ah yes, the good old city rail, eh?  You'd think that after all of the money that's been put into renovating it they would at least be able to run on time.”  He chuckled to himself.  “Well do I remember those thankless morning commutes!” Margot nodded in agreement, then suddenly a question popped into her mind. “If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Lucian, what is your job here?” “Just Lucian is fine.  Despite our government paychecks, it's rather informal here, especially for military.  As for my job...  Well, you could say that it's the position you yourself may soon fill,” Lucian said with a wry smile.  “Though that's moreso what Herr Kain seems to think.  Ah, and we've arrived.” They had stopped in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors framed on either side by tapestries of the imperial family's crest and the Arthasian flag.  As Lucian knocked thrice upon the carved mahogany, anxiety rushed over Margot.  She took a deep breath as Lucian opened the doors. She let it out in a gasp. The room was, to put it gently, a wreck.  Papers littered the floor and were piled up among hazardous towers of books and folders.  Margot was so mesmerized by the utter chaos that it took her a second to notice the man seated behind the desk in the center of the room.  He was framed on either side by more haphazard constructions of books and paper, and his appearance reflected the disorder that plagued the office.  His black hair was a mess of tangles and loose strands, wild and unruly.  He had his head bent over a sheaf of paper and one hand tapped a staccato rhythm on the desk top. It was Lucian's voice that broke through Margot's baffled yet rapt concentration. “Herr Kain, your appointment is here,” he said with a salute.  They both waited in silence, but the major showed no sign that he had heard.  Lucian cleared his throat and repeated himself, albeit, Margot noticed, slightly louder. “You interview, sir?” Major Sheerwater's eyes flashed up and fixed first Lucian, then Margot, with an icy stare.  His mouth curled downward and he waved a hand. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, not without edge.  “Dismissed, Lieutenant.” “Sir.”  Lucian saluted and stepped back.

-Lucian leaves & Margot gets to experience an absurdly lukewarm & succinct interview, at the end of which Kain informs her that the job is her's, see u tomorrow, etc, fuck off kain do ur fckn job properly

-Margot leaves & Lucian shows her out.  She lets him know she got the job & he congratulates her, then more or less the following interaction:

L: “You don't recognize me, do you?” M: “Excuse me?” L: laffs bc he laughs too fckn much, stop being sweet and charming u fucker “I wouldn't blame you, it's been a number of years.  I'm quite sure I was also considerably shorter than you at the time.  Do you happen to remember going with your parents to a fortress by name of Brynwal?” M: startled! “I, well, yes, my parents were once called...” realization at last!  “That was you?  I... but... how ever did you recognize me?” L: probably laughs his giggleshit ass off some more “The surname tipped me off, but I was certain once I saw you.  I'll never forget the kindness of your parents.  I'm sure you remember the storm we had.  With Brynwal as remote in the mountains as it is, getting a doctor to come on short notice was difficult even at the best of times, let alone during such a fierce storm.”

-more chit chat, then Lucian makes a comment about how nice it'll be to have a proper secretary around so he can do his actual goddamn job, at which point Margot stops and just stares at him.  She then says that she had answered a call for branch medic and after a pause Lucian says that he'd been told by Kain that her interview was for Kain's personal aide/secretary.  After some more staring at each other they both immediately turn to rush back to Kain's office.

-Lucian opens the doors & starts to speak but Margot barrels past and slams her hands down on Kain's desk.  After all the shit she'd put up with that morning she was Decidedly Not Pleased with Mr. Kain “Why Yes I Am Actual Human Garbage” Sheerwater.  She demands to know what the meaning of this is and brings up all the earlier bullshit with the long wait and if he's a goddamn professional then why can't he even keep his own fucking scheduled appointments, also is this all just a jolly good laugh at her expense?  Lucian steps in as Margot's voice gets louder and angrier and while he cuts her off he still berates Kain for this, saying that it's cruel and unfair to deceive Margot in this way.   Kain frowns at both of them and then after a brief silence asks Margot what the issue it, because Kain is a dense motherfucker.  Margot points out how she'd been told this was to interview for a, y'know, medical position and that she was not going to be paid the laughably small salary of a simple clerk nor suffer the insult of that position when she had graduated with honors from the University.  Kain just says well, yea, a simple clerk would obviously not receive the pay of a skilled worker, but hey, it shouldn't bother her cos he was going to be paying her half again as much.  This just incenses Margot further and she points out that that is still considerably less pay than a medical position at even a small clinic.  At this, Kain seems baffled and says that he had hired her for a medic position, Margot is confused and asks wtf was this about her being a secretary, and Kain tells her that well she's not gonna always need to be setting bones or wtfe doctors do and he's paying her the extra amount so that she'll spend all that extra time as his personal secretary, and that's a lot of damn money so why the hell not!  So after all this bullshit Margot gets to go home happy, I guess?

-Lucian then commences to fully berate the shit out of Kain's idiot ass, and Kain tries to defend himself by saying that hey he just solved not only their need for a new medic but Lucian's complaints over being treated like a secretary were now answered with a Real Life Secretary!

Basically, Kain is full of so much anti-logic all anyone but Lucian can really do is nod along.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

“Coffee?” Rufus asked, waving a server over.

“Ah, no, I think tea today.”

“You, saying no to coffee?” Rufus’ eyes were wide with incredulity. “And all this time I’d just assumed you’d mistaken it for water.”

“I think I’m coming down with something. Don’t look at me like that! At least I stay sober,” Margot added defensively.

“If you can call it that.”

His gibes were already grating on her nerves. Coupled with her headache and the stress of the day’s unnecessary commute, Margot had to struggle to keep her temper down.

“Just tell me why you had me come all this way on my one day off in weeks. You said it was urgent, I thought something terrible might have happened.” She paused to thank the man who brought her her mug of tea, then turned back just as Rufus slammed something down on the countertop between them. It was the daily edition of some newspaper or other, and she nearly dismissed it until Rufus jabbed one finger at the headline. Her eyes widened.

“Traitor!” Rufus snapped. His voice took on an injured tone. “You’re supposed to be my informant, yet you didn’t give me so much as a whiff of this.”

It was Margot’s turn to sound hurt.

“What? I never agreed to offer you any information, let alone be some petty gossip!”

“Whatever you say,” Rufus said. He didn’t sound too convinced. Margot let out a sigh.

“If it makes you feel any better, this is news to me just as much as it is to you.”

Rufus stared dumbly, and as his silence stretched out Margot’s face flushed.

“I’m serious. I’ve never even heard it mentioned before now.”

“But this is your department! I thought you were the Bastard’s right hand man. Woman. Whatever. Have you just been playing me this whole time? You’re useless!” Rufus wailed.

“I never agreed to tell you anything. I can’t even trust you to know what I eat for lunch without fearing you’ll write some ridiculous article about what that means we’re working on. You’re my friend, Rufus, but you’re still a journalist. And you’re not making yourself any more trustworthy by feeding into that silly rumor. I thought you had more sense than that.”

At that, Rufus’ scowl turned into a grin.

“You’re the senseless one, if you really think it’s just a ‘silly rumor’. How can you tell me it doesn’t ring of some truth? For crying out loud, you work with him. And yet you don’t have even the slightest suspicion?”

“It’s not my job to go through someone’s personal life like a rat through garbage. Unlike some people I know.”

[dinas-y-cerrig]

Margot

daughter of doctors (both her mother & father) who frequently did outreach/free care for Arthasian Outer City residents (this is how she met Rufus and Ambrose)

childhood bffs w Rufus & Ambrose

graduate of Arthasian University medical department

one of the researchers on Kain's team

got dat big ol crush on kain

[dinas-y-cerrig]

Kain Sheerwater

bastard child of Friedrich Eirwel III (previous emperor of Arthasia)

once got cursed by a wandering god in the guise of a cat bc as a child he pulled its tail.  now he’s terrified of cats.  kain wtf!

his eyes are blue and as he ages they lighten, however he is also gradually going blind!  hurray!

head of a military research branch.  his blood is used for experiments (as well as he himself!!) by Minister Deszo to find a way to actually use the magical properties in it

gets rly snarky and sarcastic while drunk

his gender is a matter of public speculation but he also just Doesn't Give A Fuck.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

Margot- snippit, stream of consciousness, sexuality, etc

I've been having nightmares again.

(Whenever I do manage to sleep.)

My sex drive is at an all time high, yet the amount of sex I'm having is at an all time low.

(Despite offers and competent lovers, but I'm put off when every time I embrace a man I still see only him.)

I'm 25, that's closer to 30 than halfway between.

(When did I start caring about or even noticing my age?)

We're together more than apart, yet that only makes it worse.  His hand on my shoulder as he admonishes me for one miscalculation or other----

(They're happening more and more frequently lately.  Am I doing this on purpose?  Am I so desperate for his touch---)

----yet the closer he gets the more that awkward dampness between my thighs grows.  He has no idea and I feel ashamed, yet I seem to yearn for it like some sex-driven teenager.

(----am I betraying him by wanting it?  I wait for his voice near my ear just so that once alone in bed I might better imagine him in my fantasies.  More and more I find myself conjuring up these memories, though in my bed they lead to more than a vague moistness between my thighs and a lingering shame.)

I've never let myself become so fixated on anyone, I've pushed men aside for years to get where I am.  Yet here I am, dreaming of a man who is so entirely non-sexual that he might as well be a statue.  I'll let it pass as some mid-age crisis.

(Am I middle aged?  Or am I just young and overcome by some bizarre sense of poetic dreaming?  It's the privilege of the young to bear these melodramatic sorrows.)

Maybe after this I can transfer out and let myself forget this lapse in self.

-----

thhhhis is rough but i had a strong visual image of her going over this in her head.  i've kind of steered away from writing out Margot's inner thoughts regarding Kain as i'm... nervous abt writing a sexual character and worried too she sounds too dependent (even though she too worries about that and it shapes some of her actions as things progress!!).  but ahh well this is a rough draft and ignoring a part of her that's important to her is just as bad as anything so.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

(this is just copy+pasted from weasyl.  i'll have proper bios at some point i promise.)

---

my characters Rufus & Ambrose. Rufus is on the right he's the older brother who attempts to cheer up his Depressed Teenage Would Listen 2 The Smiths If They Existed In This World younger brother Ambrose by being an obnoxious piece of shit. i mean, cheerful & goofy. Ambrose is too busy being Fucked Up bc he walked in on his mother's suicide and suffers from severe flashbacks. among other things. Rufus is a reporter for a newspaper that is actually a front for a revolutionary group in the outer slums of Arthasia Capital City. he's p good with a handgun. but also good at getting beaten the fuck up. Ambrose goes to the big fancy university thanks to Inside Connections to study medicine in the hopes of becoming a doctor for the residents of the outer city. however the residents of his neighbourhood, even people who knew him/his family, see this as a betrayal to them and "attempting to overreach his class status" and resent that. also his childhood/teenage habit of killing animals didn't go unnoticed so there are quite a few rumors goin around the neighbourhood that he's a monster. hurray! inadequate help for mental illness in an impoverished and oppressed part of society!

yep.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

this probably belongs on my story blog huh

working on expanding my story world, added a lot of land and countries but I’m slow to name everything bc I’m rly anal about language roots/reasoning behind names.

[dinas-y-cerrig]

some sketches of a few of the central characters in the SaaLyn storyline.  from right to left, a boy who wishes to escape his fate and change everything, Sieg.  his sister, whose entire existence is taboo, Lyla.  the bodyguard-assassin, whose loyalty to Sieg is unwavering, Jehanne.  the kind tutor whose knowledge reaches beyond the world as it is presented, the eunuch Bertholdt.