onichick-writes-a-thing

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

“If you promise to stay alive just a little bit longer I promise that we are going to make this world a place worth living in by any means necessary. I ain’t giving up. I swear.” 

Spotted in Clackamas, Oregon

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

It was a night like many others. Gale laying awake in his tower in Waterdeep. Reading a book by candlelight in bed. It was late. He knew he should sleep but the fact that Tav wasn’t back yet ate at him. He knew Tav could handle themselves, and that they were out with the Harpers so hardly alone. But that did little to quell the unease. His protective instincts were never soothed when they weren’t home or at the very least somewhere he could see for himself that they were whole and hale.

A bang startles him out of his musing as the door to the bedroom swings open. A wilted and blood cover Tav coming though the door discarding their pack and weapons carelessly.  They raise their eyes to them, their normally bright eyes darkened by fatigue. Gale closes his book not caring that he didn’t mark the place.

“Issshh ok” Tav holds a hand up stopping Gale. “Worse than it look”

“Any of that blood yours?”  Gale eases back carefully. He keeps a close eye on his lover. The slightest hint of a bobble in the bearing and he would be across that room. Blood and grime bedamned.

Tav  raises a hand streaked with blood and wipes at a smear of dark on their face and laughs soundlessly.  “Only Some? More or less….”  Gale arches a brow.  Tav raises their eyes up to look at Gale. “I swear on Tara’s life I am well. Just tired. And need a bath” They shuck off their shoes and start heading to the bathing chamber. Gale sighs deeply but stays put. He trusts them.

“If I hear the slightest hint of you being in trouble or lying about injuries. I will be in there faster than you can even think of denying it”

“Yes sir. Of course, Sir” Tav throws back sarcastically behind them before the door of the bathing chambers closes.

Gale leans back against the headboard of the bed and picks his book up. He keeps a careful ear at the sounds coming from the bath. Once he rediscovers his place in his book and gets a few pages in. The bathing chamber opens with a puff of steam and Tav comes out looking rosy cheeked wearing oversized shirt that they had stolen from Gale many months ago. They shuffle over on tired feet and unceremoniously climb up on to the bed to lay on Gales legs their head tucked into his hip. Gale tried to not squirm when their wet hair hits his bare skin.

“You are going to get sick if you sleep with wet hair”

Something he can only assume is “its fine.” Comes the vicinity of his right hip. If his understanding of tired Tav mumbles still held true. It gets tested further when a moment later hears “ Ishshhsss looovhebs yoooubse” as Tavs arms find their way around his waist.

“I’m sorry? I don’t think I speak that language?” He teases as he feels Tav heave a very aggrieved sight before their hand reaches up to pat Gale on his chest and slightly more intelligible “I love you “ is spoken. He captures their hand in his and presses a kiss to it.

“I love you, my love. More than you will ever  know.”

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

Do you ever just… take a step back, and realize that Minfilia died at the Bloody Banquet? That after all the sacrifice, the rest of the Scions urging you forward, the only one you never got back was Minfilia? How her last words on this mortal coil, her last human words were begging you to go, that it would be alright? 

You never saw her as a human again. 

Do you ever think about how the next time you saw her, it wasn’t her that spoke, but instead your Mother, speaking through her? That Minfilia’s voice and body was given up to empower one last strange message from Hydaelyn to you, Her Beloved Child. The creeping strangeness of having someone you trust, trusted, speak to you through the voice of someone dear to you, someone you hoped to find after the chaos of the Bloody Banquet. What must it have been like, to float along the aetherial sea, where the boundaries of soul-and-body flicker, and realize that your friend is gone, and the one that speaks to you is no longer there? It’s just her body that passed along a message. And she broke apart into motes of light, and any hope you had for your friend coming back broke apart with her. 

It hurt. You lost her, your friend, the one that welcomed you into her home, that confided in you, that you trusted and loved. You journeyed into the Rift for her, you gave a complete death to one of the Ascians for her. But you had a job to do, a world to save, you couldn’t afford to linger. To mourn. 

Shortly after, another of your friends threatened to betray you, played you like the strings of a harp as he maneuvered you and your reflection around each other. You had found two more of your friends who had sacrificed themselves on that bloody night, but you might lose another, lose him to the sweet honeyed words of the same people that made you lose her. But he pulls through, he saves you, saves your reflection, saves her. 

Your prayers, your supplications, they go not unheard. She came back, only to be sent away. But at least that was something, wasn’t it? She spoke to you, to your family, her family, as herself again, if only briefly. She told you not to worry, that she would take care of this, that she would take up the burden for you as she had so many times before. And you tearfully sent her on, because at least, surely, living as you did would be better than not living at all, right?

Right? 

You meet a girl with hair of bright gold and eyes of sapphire who answers to the name of the friend that you lost. You are told that this is the woman you lost, that her soul sleeps dormant within the child. And you can see it – how the girl moves exactly like the friend you lost, how she clutches her heart in exactly the same way that Minfilia did, how her nose crinkles just the right way when someone says something funny. Sometimes the girl blinks, and you swear you see Minfilia looking back at you, watching you. Sometimes the resemblance is enough to knock the breath from your chest, that something raw and hurt in you cries out that this isn’t fair, where is your friend, where is the one that you tried your hardest to save. 

But that isn’t fair to the girl, and you know it. But it still hurts, and as much as Thancred is being an ass about it, you can understand it. He mourns, because no matter what, he’ll lose one of the two he loves. 

And you love the girl, you can’t not. She’s bright eyed and sees the world with a wonder that you once held, she learns that she can stand on her own and out from the legacy that’s been sat on her shoulders. You want to protect her, to help her grow and become her own person. But every now and again, you see that trace of Minfilia in her, and your gut twists again, because what chance did you really have to mourn, to move on? Minfilia promised that she would make things right, and come back to you, and you trusted that. But it turns out that the truth was a lot more complicated than you thought. 

And it’s a sticky, messy situation, one that hurts you because you love them both. You want to mourn your friend, the person who promised to come back to you, but the girl is deserving of life, of being able to cast her own shadow without suffocating under the weight of the legacy she carries. 

You ran to the ruins of Nabaath Araeng, the sounds of thunder at your heels as Thancred guarded your escape, the Light brimming and burning in your chest, and you knew, with absolute certainty, that you would lose one of them. That this tenuous coexistence would not, could not, last forever, however much you wished it. The brilliant Light that you three were so intimately connected to could not hold this situation in stasis forever. All things must fade, must move on in the cycle of life. 

You speak to her, one last time. She tells you that you are not alone, that everything will be alright, one day. And you bid goodbye to her, the bittersweet farewell eating away at your heart. 

After it was done, did you go to your room, Arbert’s comforting presence at your side, and cry? Did he do his best to try and comfort you as you finally mourned her, your friend, as you tried to reconcile the faint bit of hope that fluttered in your chest? She had been thought dead before, right? Surely she could come back again, right…? 

Wasn’t it cruel, that out of all of the ones you had lost– you had lost her first, and hadn’t even really known. 

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

Meet Cynandra! She is questioning her life choices, your life choices, their life choices. 

She is on Balmung :)

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

“Name Date” 1/?

Once again apologize for piss poor formattingwritten on mobile.

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“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW WHEN YOUR NAME DAY IS?”

Cynandra jerked up as Tataru slams her hand onto wood of the front table of Walking Sands where Cynandra was looking over a book. She eyed the Lalafell warily.

“Because, I don’t know?” A note of question lingered in Cynandra’s voice as she answered .She was confused. No one had ever asked her when her name day was and wasn’t entirely sure what the signifence was now.

“How?” Tataru threw the word out with a sharp bark. Her arms crossed over chest eyes narrowed.

“Because I was abandoned? And the people at the orphanage didn’t know how to gauge Au’ra age?” Cynandra answeared in a careful voice, the one that was usually reserved for dangerous animals and deranged rulers. She closed her book because she got the feeling she wouldn’t be returning to it anytime soon.

“Didn’t you ask? Ever?” Tataru is now standing beside the chair she had been sitting, arms waving, quill still in hand.

“They said it would be the day I was adopted, and that never happened soo.....I didn’t get one?” Cynandra winced reaponding, a hitch to her voice in response to the poking a old forgotten wound.

Tataru jaw hanged open. Shock was clear across her face. Cynandra held her breath. Hoping this would be the end of it, but fearing she was very wrong. Tataru in the mean time started to pace back and forth her voice rising with every question.“So you have never had a Namesday party? No cake? No sweets? Presents? NOTHIIIINNGGG?!?!?”

The last came out as yell, that Cynandra hoped wasn’t heard down the stairs, through the doors, through the hallways to where she knew there was a passel of Scions. A sound of oncoming thunder told her that her Hope was futile.

With a flurry of knives, swords, Grimores, and various limbs the door at the bottom of the stairs blew open and the calvary of Scions appeared with a bombardment of questions.

“What happened?!!!?”

“Tataru, Cynandra! Are you alright?”

“Where are they?!? Who did it?”

“My ladies, is aught amiss?”

There was a moment of silence as the Scions realized that Cynandra and Tataru were alone in the front. Thancred who had been doing a room sweep before coming to rest in between Tataru and Cynandra. Minfillia was knelt down besides Tataru, eyes worried. Urianger & Y’shtola stood on either side of Tataru and Cynandra having had scanned the room for hidden threats. All eyes fell on the Au’ra woman and Lalafell

Cynandra opened her mouth to answer the unvoiced question,but she was drowned out by Tataru.

“SHE DOESN’T HAVE A NAME DATE!”

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

Shadowbringers spoilers. But only a little one. Once again forgive weird formatting. Written on mobile

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“My Girls....”

Ran’jits last words echo through Cynandra’s head as she walks through the hallways of Eulmore. Just once she would like a simple foe, and not one who adds to the shadows. She sighs deeply. She hates Eulmore. It feels wrong. She knows the people are kind and good but it doesn’t stop the urge to burn it to the ground.

She feels the light. She always feels it ebbing and flowing through the recesses of her mind. It’s hurts all the time now. A constant throb. She wonders if she opens a vein if blood or light would come out.She turns a corner heading back to canopy and sees Thancred standing in the shadows, arms crossed in front of him.

Without thinking she walks up to him and places her head on his chest. Inhaling deeply letting his familiar scent wash over her and reminded her of home on the Source. A wave of homesickness overwhelms her buckling her knees slightly. Her and Thancred’s relationship had been evolving , she wasn’t sure into what. She hears Thancred take a deep breath and uncrosses his arms, the movement shifting her closer to him. A gloved hand comes and rests on the side of her neck his fingers cupping her cheek. She squeezes her eyes tightly as tears threaten, suffering breath that’s almost a sob. Thancred’s other hand comes up and she feels gently fingers lift try and lift her head she resists for moment before letting him lift her chin. She meets his concerned gaze. She doesn’t know how long they stand looking at each other.

“Thancred! Cynandra!” Ryne’s voice breaks the spell that was holding them. Thanced reacts first, he gently spins them around placing Cynandra in the shadows. She startled a little as he leans forward brushes his lips against her forehead. He turns away and heads towards Ryne. She goes to follow him stopping short when Thancred places a arm out blocking her. He shoots a glance behind him, a silent request in his sea glass gaze.

Cynandra stays in the shadows and gathers herself. Accepting the reprieve Thancred granted her.

[onichick-writes-a-thing]

So I wrote a thing. Exploring my Main Cynandra’s angst some. It’s rough. I may burn it soon but here it is. (Also forgive shitty formatting. Written on Mobile)

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Cynandra hated the ceremonies. The public accolades. She would sooner face another primal, battle Zenos ten times over than stand above the people and have them thank her for service. She hated the way things changed once people knew what she was. The isolation, the reverence, the expectations of being the Warrior of Light.

So she hides behind a wall of silence and stoic nodes. Of always being willing to take on the task, the next enemy, whatever is asked no matter the cost to herself. She deals with it by only thinking moment to moment because if allows herself to think too far and too wide it would consume her. And the Warrior of Light can’t be consumed, or destroyed or falter.

She throws herself into being always there for everyone, to ensuring the safety and happiness of everyone. For what is her pain, or struggles compared to hope and freedom of nations.

Sometimes that fear leaks out. In the shaking of hands, in the sleepless night, in the referred trauma of the Echo (all that pain, all that fear not of her own bouncing and living inside her mind), in the moments of feeling like everything inside is much to big to fit. There are though small quiet times where she looks over the edge and wonders what would be like to fall, to crash upon the rocks and just have everything leak out.(She can never do that. Warrior of Light doesn’t break, doesn’t falter or fail)

She knows the Scions worry, that people care, but release those inner demons, to give voice to the fear and doubt, she worries would destroy those she loves. Better to protect them, then let them see the turmoil, all the darkness that swirled inside. (There was one once, who broke their way inside, blue eyes, ocean hair, fireplaces and hot chocolate. He didn’t run from the darkness, he sat with her and helped her hold her together when she felt that she would come apart at the seams)

One day, one day she knew she will break. That she was on borrowed time. That everything will just spill out and they will see what a broken thing she is. How unworthy of their trust and support she is. Until the day came she will push on and be whatever monster her friends needed her to be.