iironwreath

[iironwreath]

flowery tea ♡

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No your honor i would never kill out of anger. I killed that guy for sport

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Diplomat's Pouch: V [Vesuria]

Thanks for your note. It helped. We survived the Betrayer's Rise. Barely. In the final fight we got teleported to Marquet, specifically Ank'Harel. And we have some kind of…might-be terminal curse or corruption that progresses the more exhausted we are. It's infected the people here, too, but we got it in Bazzoxan. Do we have anything on curses from Ruidus? Anything about red crystals? We also have a humanoid woman stuck in an Aeormaton body with us who's taken some heavy damage and she's lost her memory, we're going to try and see if healing magic works but I'm at a bit of a loss for her, too. Sorry if I'm writing home asking for resources and questions constantly. I dunno if me being kicked out means I can't do that. Wait that sounds rude Ves

So a human friend lost an arm. Any tips on forging a new one?

Oh my gods, that sounds awful! Suffice to say, we didn’t sleep much last night. Reva was having fits about this curse or corruption all night. We beseeched Cimbarinth for his aid and knowledge on this. Sensing our distress and earnest pleas, he’s helped us research today, going through all of the tomes he has available. Unfortunately, there isn’t much we could find out about this. Red magic crystals there was few and far between. General magic crystals we found some stuff, but nothing about them being tied to the Ruidus. We did find plenty of myths and folklore surrounding Ruidus. It is the Moon of Ill Omen after all. Most of the myths are related to those born under the full red moon who are said to be cursed for life or any large battles in a war that happen there are said to be met with grave misfortunes. The memory magic and your Aeormaton friend is a little beyond our knowledge, unfortunately. The heights of the Age of Arcanum still hold many mysteries that died with those mages and have yet to be rediscovered. Much of the magical theory behind an Aeormaton is lost knowledge. Cimbarinth says he spoke with some recently who may know more. He will be reaching out to see if he will offer aid. Also my word, he lost an arm. That's dreadful. I sent over sketches and notes with tips for forging of prosthetics. It’s quite complex unfortunately and it requires a very good forge that can forge specialized metals. The major issue is the weight for most people, they need something durable yet light. Mithril or Adamantium is normally the best but they can be very rare or expensive. We can only forge them within the Plane of Fire. Reva says she will reach out to her family for help or supplies. It’ll have to be forged to the person who needs it. I know you’re supposed to do this on your own, but I don’t think any of us expected for you to get involved in something quite so serious. Cimbarinth says he has an old friend in Ank’Harel and will see if there is anything we can do to help. If you want us or someone else to come help in some way, please let us help you. I’m glad you’re alive. You are the light of my life, our torch in the darkness. Stay safe. Ky

Thank you for all the info and care. It gives me strength to feel like I'm being supported instead of…you know. I miss home more than I wanted to let on and I see it everywhere I go, but I haven't been suffering since I came to the surface. There's plenty to love and enjoy. The schematics are gorgeous, but I don't know if we can get access to the metals—mithril, at least—to make the arm. It's being used up by the city for a skyship engine. They have a skilled smith here and a forge that gets hot enough but all the artificers who could enchant it afterwards are either tied up or want to bankrupt us. My friend says he can make do without or with something basic, so we might have to go with that. I discussed it with my group and they ultimately left the decision up to me if I wanted to get my family involved, however loosely. I don't know what that would look like, but I guess the ill-fated don't get to be choosy. That's not to say I don't want your help; it's more that what we're doing involves a lot of risk and I need you to know that. I do want to know who these connections are and how they could help us, both about who Cimbarinth spoke with about Aeormaton stuff and his old friend here in Ank'Harel. When I was in the Betrayer's Rise, we all had a test where we had to come to terms with our deaths, and it made me realize a lot. I don't want to die without us all making amends somehow. I'm still hurt, and I can't shake a lot of the things mother said when I was kicked out—or has said in the past. It might take a while for it to not hurt, but I can forgive and still be hurt. Your firefly, Ves

[iironwreath]

Guy who is touch starved but emotionally repressed goading you into punching him for completely normal reasons

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*me reaping* i know i for sure did not sow this much no way all this was me

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"i'm just a girl" okay? you should be a death knight instead

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“let me get that for you” i say sexily pulling on a door that says push

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Sequoia National Forest by Victoria Palacios

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wants to get "dolled up" and when i say that i mean put me in Plate Armor

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# 23 Revenge on @chaoticcomposition !

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Ada Limón, from "To the Busted Among Us", Sharks in the Rivers

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Secret [Iona]

The bed gently depressed as Theotae climbed under the covers on her side. Iona was already comfortable, a tall pillow propped lengthways behind her and an open book in her lap. She lowered it while lifting a smile to Theotae—and frowned instead.

Theotae wasn’t herself. Her skin had taken on a waxy hue and fatigue wore on her, measurable in how sunken her eyes were. To a stranger the differences were negligible, if not invisible—she was still, and always, beautiful. To Iona, they were stark as a fireball to the face. 

Iona hadn’t seen Theotae since she’d left before dawn. Even when she was in Syngorn, their work separated them for long hours. So much could happen in the space of a minute, nevermind a day.

She retired her book without taking her eyes off Theotae and began reaching for her, fearing the worst, but Theotae threw her a wry smile.

“Rest easy, darling,” she announced without fanfare. “I’m only pregnant.”

Iona’s pulse fluttered in her throat. She finished bridging her hands to Theotae’s and grasped them tight.

“Oh, my love,” was all she could breathe, at first. She raised Theotae’s hands to kiss them and that simple action delivered her back to herself. “How do you know?”

“Azariah,” Theotae explained. “I experienced morning sickness once you’d gone and summoned her straight away. She was able to confirm what I suspected.”

Iona didn’t need to ask why Theotae hadn’t messaged her the news. Their lives were as familiar to each other as paths through the estate, able to walk them blind. Theotae wouldn’t have wanted to disturb Iona’s focus or, on a broader scale, make a scene. 

They’d had to inform the Voice of Memory they were trying to conceive, so in a manner it was official but private—but Iona was sure there was gossip spreading about why she was never more than a day’s travel from Syngorn. If Iona or Theotae suddenly vanished from their respective jobs, there’d be more whispers to follow.

“How are you feeling now?” Iona asked.

“I'm better, only tired. Azariah gave me medicine for the nausea. I’d hoped to be one of the ones to escape it, but no such luck.”

Iona nodded, processing. Theotae didn’t rush her, untucking her thumbs to soothe over Iona’s knuckles in soft swoops. 

The air bubbled with potential, like they’d put on the kettle and were waiting inside. It was charged with new life—new legacy. They would meet that precious new light, guide them, guard them, watch over their accomplishments. Fail, succeed, try again. Their love would last long after they were gone. 

In some ways, the responsibility of rearing a child felt more daunting than fighting off Hells’ droves. But, like when she’d fought with the Gilded Thorns, they weren’t alone. She’d backed them up, and they would return the favour whether she liked it or not.

She’d known all this when they agreed to start trying. All the mental busywork stretched out was recycling itself and ganging up on her all at once—she breathed out evenly, letting it wash over and settle around her feet. Her worries were familiar waters, now.

“When do you want to formally announce it?” Iona asked.

“For as long as I can avoid it,” Theotae said. “There will be ways to use it to my advantage by I’d rather not field all the incessant questions before then. We only have so many weeks before I start showing—maybe we announce it shortly before then.”

“And to family?”

Theotae’s eyes softened. “Sooner—but let it be our little secret for a spell.” She sighed. “My father will be insufferable.”

“Mine as well.”

“How practical for you he’s not here, then.” Theotae untangled their fingers but closed the gap between them, tucking herself into Iona with her head pillowed on her collar. Theotae’s temperature was higher but her hair was a cool, familiar spill as Iona carded it through her fingers like harp strings. 

“You won’t have to use the ring anymore, are you pleased?” Theotae asked.

“Yes,” Iona admitted, resting her cheek on Theotae’s crown. She had bathed without washing her hair so her perfume had waned, replaced with the bergamot and sequoia fragrance of her soap. “It was interesting and lovely in its own way, but I do prefer my usual body.”

Theotae hummed. “Perhaps I’ll have to try it for myself sometime.”

A laugh tumbled out of Iona. “You won’t be able to for a while, I’m afraid, love.” Mixing transmutation magic and pregnancy was ill-advised.

Theotae scoffed her frustration but added nothing else. In the ensuing quiet, Iona tried to map out the next nine to ten months in her mind. It would be a reverent journey of sorts. Not without its dangers, but a lot of gestating, preparing, monitoring, and waiting. 

Iona wondered what their child would inherit, what would be unique, what pleasant surprises laid in wait. The good, the bad, the messy—she wanted it all. She wondered if Theotae was imagining the same, their heads quite literally pressed together.

“Should I start keeping crackers by the bed?” Iona asked. She hadn’t expressed it as a joke but it sounded funny aloud. “Do you need water or anything?”

“No,” Theotae said. Her voice grew heavier, trance looming, and Iona sank with her. “I want you to stay right here.”

[iironwreath]

— Nikita Gill

[iironwreath]

I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!

(save the images to zoom in on the pics)

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Rotten [Vesuria]

[31]

The initial betrayal crushed her more than the weight of drowning. It flattened her chest cavity, taking her heart and lungs with it. 

She never thought she'd feel so sick with that kind of hurt again, too large for her body. It was actually worse. Her mothers loved her—for the rivals to threaten them, they had to have never liked them at all. 

Was everything a lie? The care and devotion between Ayo and Dermot and Varis, the caravan, the festival, teaming up against the Gloomstalker, rescuing Maggie from her own alcohol-induced demons, the gifted flask and book, the flipping each other off and laughing. 

No, it wasn’t right. Children didn’t fake their friendships just to carry them into adulthood and nothing about the rivals had ever screamed ‘fake’ to Vesuria. She climbed to her feet. Instinctively, her knees widened into a stable, guarded stance, and that felt like another betrayal to the others in kind.

Even at a distance from lower ground, Vesuria sensed the rivals were off. Something stank. She smelled it as rotten and oppressive as offal—and boy, she'd gotten familiar with a smell like that. 

She held onto that with all the strength of her body and soul. She hadn't promised Ayo she would make it out alive, but Ayo had promised her. She hoped—prayed, given where they were—that her promise extended to Vesuria.

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by shainblumphotography