soulstitcher

[soulstitcher]

🚨 MY GAME'S KICKSTARTER LAUNCHES MAY 20TH 🚨

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FEATURING

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DRIFTING

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[soulstitcher]

Clash of Mages

AO3

A/N: This has got to be my longest yet. This took forever to write, but it was so fun. It took a lot of research and several rounds of Paintress and Our Drafts Collides on loop, but it was worth it. Reminder: Azem is Venat, and Emet-Selch is NOT Hades.

———

When Hythlodaeus invited him along to the home of Azem, one of the Fourteen, Hades didn’t know what to expect. Azem was long known to be a very capable woman, master of martial and arcane arts both, quite long-lived, and had experienced much in the course of her long life, earning the admiration and respect of much of Etheriys’s people. But reception of her was a little more divided among those who knew her better. She was undoubtedly a kind woman, always amiable and compassionate to her fellow man. But she was, in the words of many, cheerfully incorrigible, regularly going against the opinions of the rest of the Convocation. Hythlodaeus was the apprentice to Emet-Selch, another of the Fourteen, and thus a lot of the drama involving the Fourteen’s personal lives ended up reaching Hades’s ears.

Emet-Selch had needed to call on Azem for business, and, deciding that exposure to other Convocation members was necessary for his apprentice, took Hythlodaeus along with him. Thinking it would be fun, Hythlodaeus invited Hades, and despite all of his grumbling, he didn’t hesitate to accept. Now all three were there, far at the edge of the outskirts of Amaurot, standing before Azem’s abode.

The first thing Hades noticed was the flowerbed in front of the porch. It was filled with dozens of flowers none of them had ever seen before. Flowers with large wispy petals, flowers with thorny leaves, flowers that climbed up the stems of other flowers…in hues of deepest midnight blue, burning flaming red, roses and lilacs and lilies all mixed into one multicolored blossom. Even more curious was their aether: several elements and colors stirred and blended and twisted together into crystalline fractals. He had never seen any kind of bloom made in such a way. Who conceived of such intriguing flora?

Emet-Selch rang the doorbell and rapped three times politely on the door, and after a few moments, Azem herself opened it. She had her hood and mask off, making Hades’s breath catch and a blush creep up his face. She was admittedly beautiful, with soft, kind blue eyes and a mane of blinding white hair, but that wasn’t the thing. It was her house, she was justified in walking around it in whichever state she wished, but it was for Hades still a scandalous sight.

Azem greeted the three men kindly and invited them inside, and Hades and Hythlodaeus nervously trailed after their mentor. It was always surreal, entering a home of one of the Fourteen. Some were supremely dedicated to their fields and their homes showed it, with Mitron’s home being filled with aquariums large enough to house a whale and Emmeroloth’s being attached to a hospital. Others were meant to remind visitors of their power and authority, with Nabriales’s walls lined with weapons taken from battles he’d fought. Others still were nothing more than simple frugal cottages, with Loghrif’s home a tiny little house in the middle of a field filled with animals.

The first thing Hades could say about Azem’s home was that it was deceptive. It looked normal enough — neutral floors, comfortable nondescript furniture — but…the walls. They were covered from floor to ceiling in painted scenes of all kinds of wonders in all colors. Scenes of battles fought long ago, portraits of esteemed personages, landscapes of waterfalls and mountains and oceans. Perhaps the centerpiece was a massive mosaic of the Okeanid gods, from Hera at the height of the Olympian heavens to Hades and Persephone in the deepest depths of the Underworld. Each minuscule figure was painted in exacting, lifelike detail, each one bearing symbols of their assigned charge, such as Hestia with a flame in her cupped hands and Artemis with her silver bow and deer hide on her back. But while the Olympians were portrayed in much the same way as other Amaurotine artists, the chthonic gods were far more beautiful and dignified. Evidently the artist had far greater regard for them than their Olympian counterparts.

“My, Azem…this mural is simply exquisite!” Emet-Selch exclaimed approvingly, while his apprentice’s jaw dropped in awe. Even Hades had to admit it was a masterpiece. “The quality of the paint is just stunning! And the figures, they’re so human and lifelike! Not a single brushstroke wasted…was this a commission?”

“Ha! No, but I’ll make sure to pass on the compliment,” Azem snorted with a smile. “This is one of my daughter’s biggest projects. She loves Okeanid myth, so she painted the whole pantheon in the midst of a creative urge. She’s been painting the house ever since she was old enough to hold a brush,” she added, nodding towards a few corners of the walls close to the floor. What were undoubtedly a child’s drawings and sketches lined the frame, with colorful handprints of both mother and daughter stacked on them. In fact, the higher up you went, the more refined and skilled the painter’s works. Azem’s daughter was definitely a master, that much was obvious.

“So that’s what your namesake looks like,” Hythlodaeus murmured in Hades’s ear, his chin resting on his shoulder as he observed the chthonic gods. Hades growled quietly and pushed him away and glanced at the figure. He was tall, imposing, dreaded. At least special care had been taken to make the king of the dead look flattering. “He looks handsome.”

Hades shot him a glare, but before he could speak, Emet-Selch interrupted. “Well, if Hekate keeps that kind of skill, she’ll take Altima’s place in the Convocation one day, mark my words!” he said with a laugh.

“And I’ll be very proud when she does! Now then…who are these two you brought along?” Azem asked, eyeing the apprentices curiously.

“This is Hythlodaeus, my apprentice at the Bureau of the Architect. And this is his friend, Hades,” Emet-Selch introduced them in turn. Hythlodaeus waved merrily, and Hades simply nodded. “I thought an outing to another of the Fourteen would do them good.”

“If you plan on succeeding one of us, then yes, it would,” Azem absently agreed. She stared at the two of them for a moment, then smiled. “I won’t force you, of course, but you are all free to show your faces if you wish. I personally find it a bit stifling, especially after living among the Okeanids for so long. It was hard to get used to again.”

Hades hesitated to remove his hood and mask, but relented after Hythlodaeus cheerfully threw his off, slowly pulling his hood off his head and slipping his mask off his face. Azem nodded approvingly. “That’s more like it. Hekate has a mask of her own, but she never wears it. She doesn’t even have robes.”

It was common knowledge that Azem had a surprise child while living with the Okeanids, and had raised her daughter among the culture. Amaurotines were strongly suggested to wear robes and masks while in public, but concessions were made for the children of foreigners, and that included Hekate, who took full advantage of the privilege to wear what she pleased. That was one of the few things Hades — well, anyone — knew about Azem’s famously reclusive daughter.

“But that’s beside the point. What brings you here today?” Azem asked, running to get some tea.

“I wanted to discuss one of the creatures recently spotted in Amaurotine waters. I was hoping you could identify it — witnesses say it resembles something out of Okeanid myth, and you’re the Convocation’s foremost expert in the field.”

Hades and Hythlodaeus tried to pay attention to the discussion, but it wasn’t easy. Not that it wasn’t interesting — Azem was known to be a good storyteller — but Emet-Selch had an uncanny ability to make even the most gruesome tales of history as interesting as watching paint dry. Azem seemed to sense their restless boredom, so before they got too deep into debate, she said, “Why don’t you boys go outside? You might have some ideas for Hekate.”

“Wouldn’t she only throw us out? Hasn’t she always been…distant?” Hythlodaeus asked unsurely. “I wouldn’t want to intrude if she doesn’t want us there.”

“If she complains, just tell her I sent you. She won’t try to push you into one of her paintings if you blame me,” she told them.

…Push us into her paintings? Odd, Hades thought to himself, but he shrugged and followed Hythlodaeus out of the house.

The garden outside was just as splendorous as the flowerbeds out front, filled with strange-looking fruits and vegetables, all shaded by a truly gigantic Helice tree. But it was the young woman with the soul shrouded in brilliant blue standing in the middle of the grass that got Hades’s attention. She wore no robes and no mask, only a traditional Okeanid wrap and pants, leaving her back and arms quite exposed. Though her mane of curly black hair obscured them, when it fell down her side he could see a series of constellations dotted across her back. A fluffy black cat twisted and turned through her legs, its bright blue eyes watching them intently. If she heard them, she didn’t acknowledge them, continuing to intently contemplate the dark sky. It was only when they cautiously inched close enough that she spoke up.

“Which hue is better, light emerald, dark turquoise, or bright violet?” she asked.

“Er…I’m not sure,” Hythlodaeus said. “What exactly are you asking for?”

“Actually…why not all three?” With that, she raised a hand and waved it across the sky. In thick brushstrokes came auroras in all the aforementioned hues, blended together wonderfully to blanket the starry night sky.

“How — how did you do that? What kind of magic is that?” Hades asked, finally finding his voice.

“It’s pictomancy,” Hekate answered casually. “It’s a magic that allows a sorcerer to bring their artworks to life. I could make flowers…ships…even the mighty steeds of Helios if I wanted to.”

Their mouths dropped when they connected the dots. They had not seen the aether they generally used for creation magicks. That could mean she had somehow invented an entirely new way of creating life. “That’s incredible! I’ve never seen creation magicks conducted through paint before. Have you submitted any works on pictomancy to the Bureau?” Hythlodaeus asked excitedly.

His question was innocent, but it had a stark effect on Hekate. The muscles in her back tensed, her body rigid, the cat stopped its pacing and sat and stared, and she finally turned to face them. Hades was greeted by the sight of perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was pale, with lips pursed thin and a scar indicating a once-broken nose. Her gaze was intense and piercing, seeming to bore down into the very depths of his soul. She bore little resemblance to Azem, but was unmistakably her mother in the eyes and attitude. She was so…different than everyone else he had seen. She wasn’t hidden away behind a mask and robes, where a reaction could only be gauged by a voice or slight quirk of the lips. He could see every twitch of her eyebrow, every direction her eyes darted in, every breath leave her nostrils. Coming across someone who hid nothing from the world was surreal.

“…No? Why would I do that?” Hekate asked, eyebrow raised and eyes darting around in confusion.

Hythlodaeus looked at her strangely. “So others can learn about your work, of course! To share with all of Etheriys and improve the star. That’s what everyone does.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not everyone,” Hekate replied coldly, turning away. “My craft is not for everyone to gawk at. It’s for me. Not everything has to be about the star.”

“Why then? Simply looking at your creations, they are undeniably magnificent, and everyone could benefit from them. You’re simply hoarding your craft for your own wishes and whims,” Hades accused.

“Perhaps I am, and if I am, so be it. It’s what makes me happy. I shouldn’t have to share that with people who don’t understand,” she protested, calm but icily firm.

Hades could hardly understand her keeping her gifts to herself. The people ultimately lived in service to the star, everyone knew that. How could this woman not understand such a simple commandment?

“I have a proposal,” he said suddenly.

Hekate stopped and turned back to look at him with an eyebrow raised, saying nothing.

“I would see the fruits of your craft with my own eyes. Your creations are without a doubt beautiful and inventive and original. But how do they hold up on the field of combat? I propose a mage’s duel. If you win, you can keep painting as you wish and I’ll not say another word about your hoarding. But if I win, you must share your craft with the rest of the star.”

Hekate’s eyes unfocused, considering the proposal, rubbing her star pendant between her thumb and forefinger. Hythlodaeus’s eyes flicked between the two with bated breath, wondering how a duel between them would go. Hades was young, but already known to be a powerful mage; Hythlodaeus could count on one hand how many people he thought could oppose him. But Hekate was raised by one of those rivals, presumably taught the arts of combat by them as well, not to mention almost no one knew where her strengths and weaknesses lie. She was a total mystery.

“…Alright then,” she agreed absently. She wasn’t grinning with confidence or worrying her pendant in anxiety. She was simply calm, betraying no emotion whatsoever. The closest he could ascertain was boredom. What did that mean for Hades?

He got the feeling this was going to be an exciting fight.

Hekate clicked her tongue and motioned for her cat to go back to the house, and the feline darted up the porch steps obediently, leaving the two combatants to take their places in the spacious yard. Hades summoned his staff and inspected it, then studied his opponent. Hekate conjured no weapon; instead, she kicked off her sandals so she stood barefoot in the dirt and pulled her long hair into a ponytail. Was she more of a physical fighter then? A few mages he knew used their limbs as their focus. Perhaps she was the same way. Interesting.

“Go on,” she said, placing her hands comfortably on her hips, “you go first. Hit me.”

Hades eyed her warily, unable to figure out what she was planning, but he conjured one of his signature spells, True Fire, and hurled the flames at her. She made no move to shield herself or sidestep them, simply extended a hand and caught the flames in her fingertips. Hades’s jaw dropped when he saw the fire did not burn her, saw the burning crimson aether swirl around her fingertips as she took control of the spell and, twisting gracefully like an acrobat in the air, floated into the air and sent the flames screaming back at him, hitting him in the chest and sending him to the ground, the front of his robes violently singed.

Hekate stood there without much concern, waiting to see how he would react. Hades growled quietly and got back to his feet, annoyed now. He conjured True Blizzard first, but delayed its route until he sent the crackling lightning of True Thunder at her, then had the ice follow in its wake. The power of two spells did nothing — Hekate caught them both without flinching, one in each hand, amplifying the charge tenfold then pelting Hades with golden lightning bolts that sent him running to the pond hoping to avoid them. But she anticipated that too; as soon as he jumped, unable to stop his movement anymore, she raised her hands as though holding a clock and turned them slightly, seeming to slow time itself, before conjuring a single lightning bolt from the leftover aether, artfully charged it up by twisting it around her body in a kind of dance, then shot it straight into the water with one hand while allowing time to resume its normal flow with the other.

Before he could stop himself, Hades fell into the electrified water and felt the shock engulf his body. He pulled himself out of there before it got too bad, but the aether made him twitch and convulse, unable to hold his staff right, giving her another opening. He saw her clutch the icy cyan aether in her hand, wave it around until it turned a wet ocean blue, then levitated again and sent a wave of water coming his way, hands out as though she were pushing it to him. He was powerless against the strength of the wave crashing over him, and it sent him flying once again, hitting the ground on his back and knocking the wind out of him.

Hythlodaeus, spectating from his seat on the porch steps, had his hands clapped over his mouth, shaking in excitement. He had never seen someone perform feats such as what Hekate was doing — nor had he seen someone lay Hades flat that fast. And the rainbow of aether on her fingertips…her ballet-like movements…someone could have mistaken the duel for a colorful dance.

And her changing ice to water…not impossible, but certainly difficult given their opposing polarities. She made it look effortless, the only proof of what she had done being the leftover paint on her hands and clothes.

“In case you’re wondering, that’s one reason the star should not learn of pictomancy,” Hekate said as Hades lay there, slipping a shoe off to let the lightning run its course, despite hurting even more with his robes soaking wet. “It is powerful. It can bend the laws of reality itself. And it’s incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“People can only learn of its danger if they’re taught,” Hades argued back, and once his twitching stopped he pulled himself back to his feet. Her eyes widened slightly, but she betrayed no emotion other than tilting her head in curiosity. He’d withstood the initial onslaught. Only her mother could claim to have done so. She primed herself for the next spell. “Why don’t you cast a spell yourself? I want to see what you can really do,” he goaded her, hoping she would slip up in her eagerness to disprove him.

“With pleasure,” she whispered to herself, and she floated into the air and slammed her feet into the ground, sending a rippled shockwave through the earth, disrupting the grass and the flowers. As it rushed towards Hades, she darted forward, moving her feet across the dirt as though she were surfing on ocean waves. Hades jumped to avoid the quake, but Hekate pulled water out of the no-longer-electrified pond and cast it at Hades’s feet, freezing into ice blocks on contact. It seemed to happen in slow motion; Hekate got to him, grabbed his arms, and for a split second, the two locked eyes, glinting, defiant gold into intense, brilliant blue. Then she slammed her head into his, disorienting him and pushing him into the pond, landing in the shallows with a loud splash.

Dizzy but still focused, Hades took a moment to catch his breath before slowly, shakily standing up, using his staff to steady himself. There was no doubt now that Hekate was surprised he had lasted this long. Her manner of casting had to be why she wore no robes — it made moving around far easier. She floated gracefully into the water, landing without so much as a ripple, staring at him as he tore his ruined robe and cast the pieces away, leaving him shirtless. “You’re tougher than I thought, I’ll give you that,” she admitted.

The second she drew close, Hades got her by the throat and pushed her into the water, hoping it would give him an opportunity to counter. Though she too fell in, her eyes hardened and she raised a hand, a spout of wind suddenly dislodging him from the pond and sending him flying back onto the ground, landing with a hard thud that made Hythlodaeus wince at the sound. Hekate emerged from the water, soaking wet and covered from shoulders to toes in paint and dirt, but she was more annoyed by Hades’s refusal to go down.

“Fine. Have it your way,” she growled, and she slid the paintbrush and palette on her hip out of her belt. The brush was made of finely smelted mythril and horse hair, and the marble-plated palette contained a vast array of rainbow-colored aether. She chose a few colors and waved her paintbrush around artfully, conjuring a strange creature beside her out of paint. It was large, with many spider-like legs, and the moment it was fully formed, she pointed the brush at Hades, and the creature rushed towards him.

He had just gotten back up and couldn’t react in time, and the creature surrounded him and twisted its many legs around him to restrain him, leaving him bound and at his opponent’s mercy. She threw her brush and palette away and conjured several elements, burning red, snowy deep blue, wisping green, and electric golden all swirling around her hands. She spun into the air and threw the congealed aether at him, pelting him with storms, wildfires, thunderstorms, and typhoons all at once, finally wearing him out enough that he couldn’t keep fighting. The creature dropped his limp body and disappeared into paint, leaving him lying there, too tired and hurting too much to get back up.

The duel was over. The yard was in ruins, water all over the place and plants thrown out of the ground. Hekate had won, and she could keep her craft to herself. She wasn’t entirely unscathed — by this point she was drenched in paint, the black of her hair now covered in blue and green. But she didn’t seem too bothered, if mildly annoyed. She was looking at Hades strangely, her stare still intense but nowhere near as cold as before. It was curious, pleasantly inquisitive. So much warmer it was like she was a different person.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Hades couldn’t answer, too exhausted to speak. Hythlodaeus came running off the porch to heal him, and as he quietly chanted the spell, he watched Hekate. She made no move to attack either of them, simply approached them, surprisingly timid for someone so aggressive on the battlefield. She looked at Hades, observing his wounds and how they were mending, then extended a hand and took control of the aether, amplifying it and making the wounds heal much faster. Soon Hades was sitting up, his burns and welts gone, still breathing heavily.

“…I never did get your names,” she finally said with a hint of guilt.

Hythlodaeus couldn’t help but snort. She had demolished Hades without even knowing what he was called. “I’m Hythlodaeus, and this is Hades,” he introduced them with a smile.

“Hades…a quality name, as ever,” she complimented with a big grin. “Finally someone else with a chthonic name. I’m sick of seeing Poseidons and Apollos.”

Hythlodaeus stopped another snort so hard he thought the inside of his nose ruptured. A warm blush creeped up Hades’s throat and dusted his face. That was the first time anyone had actually liked his name enough to say it out loud. Just like the Okeanids, the Amaurotines privately thought anyone who named their child after a chthonic god was crazy. In hindsight that was probably one reason why some people thought Azem was insane.

“I need to clean the yard up before my mother kills me. Would you mind going inside to tell her what happened, Hythlodaeus?” Hekate asked.

Hythlodaeus nodded and ran back into the house, waving to Hades with a mischievous grin. Hades grumbled and flipped him off, but Hythlodaeus disappeared inside before he saw.

With him gone, Hekate went to the middle of the yard and began taking control of the ambient aether to put everything to rights. Hades slowly got to his feet and watched the cracks in the ground repair themselves, flower petals return to their stems, then set his eyes on Hekate. Watching her fight had been magnificent, but this…this was nothing short of a beautiful performance. She danced to repair the world, and the world moved with her, the leaves of the Helice moving with her when she kicked a graceful foot up, the wind whipping around her as she spun. She danced without a care in the world, in movements only she understood, to music only she could hear.

And that…something stirred in Hades’s chest.

When the land was back to normal, everything root and petal and branch back in place, Hekate moved back into position, feet together and hands clasped. She smiled to herself in satisfaction, then turned her head and froze to see Hades’s dumbstruck expression. The two watched each other for a long time, Hekate curious, Hades astounded. Then Hekate smiled softly and bent down to put a hand to the ground. Then she raised her hand with her fingers pressed together, forming a stem out of paint. Her fingertips flitted from side to side, forming leaves, then spread apart on top to form a beautiful golden blossom. She gently plucked it from the dirt, then timidly offered it to Hades, the hands clutching it covered in a rainbow of paint.

Hades couldn’t help but smile at her softly, and he reached for the flower, their fingers brushing against each other, making their breaths catch in their throats. The blossom left her hands and entered his, and as though they were reading each other’s minds, their hands carefully joined, as though worried they would break them if they were too rough. He couldn’t believe how much smaller her hands were than his; his own paint-drenched fingers covered hers. They looked up from their joined hands, and Hades felt his heart quicken.

“Thank you, Hekate,” he murmured.

Hekate said nothing, but she smiled brightly, lighting up the whole world around her.

“Do…do you think we should —?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, pulling her hand away. “We should run back inside. After that clash, we are in desperate need of baths,” she added with a toothy grin. She ran past him to dart up the steps, but the call of her name from his lips stopped her, and she looked back at him with a questioning glance.

“I know you don’t want everyone else to see your gifts, but…we can just talk about pictomancy, if you like?” he offered.

He half-expected her to say no, to draw back into herself, but instead her eyes positively lit up in excitement, and she had to steel herself to not tremble with glee. She nodded quickly and ran inside, the tapping of her bare feet on the wooden floor echoing outside. Hades smiled and brought the blossom to his nostrils, wondering whimsically just what he had just gotten himself into.

[soulstitcher]

How to Shed Your Burdens

AO3

A/N: Little sequel to Welcome to a New Age.

———

The days following the real Sphene’s awakening passed in a blur. Within twenty-four hours Sphene discovered just how little strength she had left in her limbs, there was an attempt on Elayne’s life, they met the true perpetrator of Preservation’s atrocities, they discovered the remains of Alexandria Castle underneath Everkeep, and the rudest shock of Sphene’s new situation came in the form of the mechanized Zelenia and the simulant taunting her helplessness. Then came the malfunctioning sentries. Elayne blacked out the second she saw sentries come after Erenville. And the eternity of bliss the neo regulators supposedly granted only enticed the scared and confused citizenry.

Sphene had never felt more helpless.

Things were still tense in Everkeep, but after a few days without any more incidents, it calmed down a bit. Deciding it was safe to tend to other matters for the moment, the Hallows opted to go home to Livadia to get some rest, at least until something significant happened in the dome. After some talking, they also unexpectedly invited Sphene to come with them, so that she could get out of that shithole and get some air, as well as see the world beyond the dome. After encouragement from everyone (especially Lamaty’i, who was jealous that she had yet to see the Hallows’ home in Ishgard), Sphene decided to go, first spending a day or two in Tuliyollal before teleporting to Ishgard with them.

It was like a fever dream. It had been a long, long time since Sphene had seen snow, or mountains, or daylight. She could see what Elayne had meant about outside being much easier on her senses. The air in Ishgard was cold, fresh, crisp. The streets were made of ancient stone. It looked much more like home than the new Alexandria could have ever been, and it immediately put Sphene at peace. That said, in her weakened state, she was largely confined to the house, but even then she still got a good view of the world beyond the back porch.

Life at Livadia was like nothing she had ever experienced before. There were house rules, of course — chief among them wearing special slippers inside — but the Hallows were extremely relaxed. While Elayne and Erenville were generally quite independent in their day-to-day activities, they still spent much of their time together, and they never had dinner apart. Sphene was left to her own devices most of the time, and she soon found ways to entertain herself with all the books they had on the shelves. All the while, the Hallows were so kind and friendly and thoughtful, and clearly devoted to each other. They were…genuine.

It was only a matter of time before the dream lost its color.

Sphene noticed that within only a few minutes into a walk outside, she was out of breath and her legs were too tired to stand. Elayne had to help her up and even carry her home on her back when they discovered she had no more strength to walk. As she couldn’t leave on her own even if she wanted to, Sphene had to be satisfied with walking around the backyard, and even then she couldn’t take much before she was worn out. She tried to help them lift some boxes out of the hall the other day, but couldn’t even move one a millimeter before falling over, with her hands burning like wildfire. No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried to help around the house, her body failed her. And with each passing day, she felt herself lose more and more control.

One day, Sphene slowly trod into the kitchen to get herself a snack. She pulled out a loaf of bread, a knife, and jars of jelly and peanut butter. It wasn’t too hard to get a slice of bread out, but when she tried to unscrew a jar, it wouldn’t budge. She twisted harder, but it didn’t move an ilm. She gritted her teeth and twisted with all her might, but it did absolutely nothing, leaving her arms numb with fatigue and her lungs heaving for breath.

Before she could stop it, a flash of frustrated rage seared through her. The dam that had been chipping away for so long now finally broke. Hot tears spilled from her eyes and blurred her vision. She set the jar down, sank to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed uncontrollably.

It didn’t take long for her crying to alert someone. She heard footsteps quickly beat across the wooden floor, and when they found her, someone crouched down beside her.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” a deep voice asked in concern, and Sphene peeked through her fingers to see it was Erenville.

“I…I…” she tried to say, but all that came out was another choked sob.

“Okay, you’re clearly having a meltdown,” Erenville told her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Just let it all out. You’ll feel better in a little bit.”

He was right. Despite crying so hard she thought her throat would rip open, after a few minutes it slowly abated until she was just sniffling, though her eyes were very red and felt like they were on fire. At Erenville’s advice, she leaned her head back against the cabinet and breathed in and out deeply.

“Now that you’ve gotten it out…what happened?” he inquired.

“I…I was trying to make myself a sandwich, but…I couldn’t get the jar open,” she whispered.

“These jars?” He stood up and inspected them, then opened them easily and started making the sandwich for her. “Sphene, a lot of people have trouble opening these jars. Elayne of course always needs help, and even Alisaie can’t get in them sometimes, and she’s perfectly abled in mind and body. You’re not the only one.”

“Oh,” she muttered.

“Don’t take it personally, whoever made these old jars was an idiot,” he informed her kindly. He slathered the bread slices in peanut butter and jelly and slapped them together, then handed the sandwich to her. While she ate her snack he went and put the bread and jars up, then came back. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

She shook her head and he plopped down on the floor beside her. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“…Honestly…no. I…I’m not used to this. I’m not used to feeling like this. I’m not used to not having the strength to do things for myself. No matter what I do, take a walk, wash my own hair, make a sandwich, my limbs fail me. I’ve never felt this tired. I’ve never felt so helpless. And…I…I hate it. So, so much,” Sphene whispered, feeling her eyes well up again.

Erenville sighed heavily. “Elayne is much better at this talk than I am, but she’s out running errands, so I’ll say it for her,” he started quietly. “You know, as someone who’s been a caregiver, I know a few things about what you’re going through.”

“You do?”

Erenville nodded. “A little over a year ago, Elayne was in a fight that left her very badly injured. She was unconscious for weeks, she still has some scars, and her soul was in such bad shape that whatever is left of her unsundered self woke up and fixed her soul up herself. And when she woke up…there wasn’t much she could do for herself. I had to help her out of bed, into her clothes, made sure she ate, helped her take her meds on time. That was when she wasn’t sleeping — she slept most of the day. She was so burned out and exhausted she couldn’t even speak. And when she was finally strong enough to stand on her own, she would not stop losing her balance and tripping on something.”

“Why? She seems fine to me now.”

“She told you about her senses, right?” Sphene nodded. “Well, her sensitivity is a part of her autism. It’s a neurological condition where a brain is pretty much rewired to not fit the standard mold of society. And it’s a spectrum, so every autistic person is different. For Elayne, she has trouble with not just her senses, but with motor skills. She doesn’t have a natural sense of balance like you or I. She’s learned to manage it after years of practice and effort, but…when she’s burned out like she was after the battle, whatever balance she’s acquired disappears. Her body is literally too tired to keep putting energy into walking straight. So she ended up tripping many times, fell down the stairs several times, and got even more cuts and bruises for her trouble.”

“That has to be so awful…not being able to walk must have been a torture,” Sphene murmured.

“It was. And she hated it. She hated being helpless and unable to do anything for herself. She broke down crying so many times. I can’t count how many times she apologized to me, always thinking she was a burden on me. And that wasn’t the first time she’s felt like that. Autism and PTSD make for a nasty combination. Those two have caused her so many problems. So many meltdowns because she got overwhelmed or someone didn’t bother to understand her, so many blackouts where she unknowingly hurt people and didn’t remember a thing, so many things and opportunities she missed out on because it was too loud or bright or someone made her uncomfortable. She can’t help any of it, but that only makes it worse. Not being able to control her brain has…done quite a number on her. She only started getting better once she hit rock-bottom.

“That’s the thing, Sphene. Elayne is happy and thriving now, despite still having some issues, because she finally put aside her stubborn pride, her fear, and asked for help. The first step in getting help is admitting you need it,” he advised seriously. “The road to recovery is long and hard, and full of frustration and rage and despair. But in the end, the reward is worth the pain. Sphene…I think you’re going to need some help eventually. Whether or not you ask for it is up to you, but you’re not likely to get better if you don’t.”

“I…I know that, I do…but this…this is all new to me,” Sphene admitted. “I’ve…never lost it like that before. This is the first time I haven’t been in control. It’s…strange.”

“Hm…think of it this way. Royalty comes with standards and behavior you must adhere to, both for your sake and for your people’s, right?” Sphene nodded slowly. “Well, there are downsides and upsides to not being royalty anymore. You don’t have the power of wealth to live as comfortable a life as you like. You aren’t as safe and secure as you used to be. And all the family and friends you had as a royal are gone.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s all bad. You might be broke, but you’re free. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you wish, and there’s no one there to tell you what you can and cannot do. The stress is gone, the demands are gone. You can just be you. You don’t have to hide your emotions or your flaws. Your life is all up to you.”

When he spoke of freedom, he could see Sphene’s shoulders instinctively relax, and her face settled into a more contented expression. Freedom…it was enticing, she couldn’t deny that.

“You’re not a queen anymore, Sphene. You’re just an ordinary woman now. You can live your life however you see fit. You’re allowed to shed your burdens. You can be a little selfish.”

Sphene nodded pensively, silent. When Erenville asked if she was feeling better or still hungry, she nodded, and he helped her to her feet and got a proper lunch started while she went off to find a book.

Sphene kept to herself for the rest of the afternoon, either reading in her room or staring out the window, lost in thought, reflecting on Erenville’s words. She was still in there when Elayne got home in the early evening from whatever errands she had been running.

“Sweetheart! I’m home!” she called, kicking the door closed behind her with her foot and slipping her outside shoes off and her house slippers on, holding a hefty bundle in her arms. Erenville came around the corner to greet her with a kiss and got the bundle from her.

“Welcome back, love. How was your day?” he asked, setting the bundle down on the table and pulling her into his arms.

“Crazy.” She rested her head on his shoulder and exhaled heavily. “I was going to start my mail rounds when Artoirel called me. The second he said ‘Sis, we really need some help over here,’ I came running. The baby wasn’t sleeping and he and Veronique were about to keel over from exhaustion, so I took her with me and threatened to kill them if they didn’t get a proper nap. She was out fast once I got walking. Then once my rounds were through, Cid called me to the workshop to discuss a new mode of transportation for me, and we had to walk a bunch of laps to keep the baby asleep. Then once we were done debating, I ran and picked up some arcanima books for Sphene and sent a letter off to Alphinaud for any advice on arcanima. I also brought her some chocolate chip cookies from our stall in the Crozier,” she added, motioning to the box of cookies on top of the stack of books. “I just took the baby back to Artoirel. I will say that he looked a lot better after some good sleep.”

“That’s good. I didn’t think you’d end up babysitting while you’re at work, though. Drastic times call for drastic measures, I suppose,” Erenville conceded, kissing her temple. “I’m just glad they got some rest and you’re home safe.”

“Me too.” She kissed his cheek with a smile. “Hey, Sphene! I brought something for you!”

Hearing her name, Sphene slipped out of bed and came out of her room. In the kitchen, she saw the books and the cookies, and at that moment, she finally got the nerve to come out and say it.

“I think I need some help.”

[soulstitcher]

For the Children of Halone

AO3

A/N: Any notes I have for this oneshot are on AO3. I do not have the energy to write them out again. Mind all the dialogue.

———

Everyone knew that Elayne and Aymeric were best friends. Everyone could see it in the way they acted around each other — their complete comfort around each other, their willingness to tell each other everything, the way they lit up whenever they saw the other. Those two had been locked up in the madhouse together for weeks and they’d emerged with an unshakable bond, built on helping each other through the darkest monsters in their heads. Almost no one understood each other’s demons as well as they did.

So when Artoirel asked Elayne to find Aymeric for the church’s ecumenical council, he had no doubt she would find him faster than every knight in Ishgard. True to form, she found him quick — sitting on a stone bench in the Last Vigil overlooking the balcony leading to the Sea of Clouds down below. He was leaned back with his hands folded and eyes closed, breathing in and out deeply. Probably just taking a moment to steel himself before the council, but she was still worried enough to check.

“Mishka?”

At the sound of the nickname, his eyes flew open, and he saw her standing beside him, bundled up in her favorite shawl against the cold, looking at him with concern. “Oh. Hey, sis,” he greeted her, patting the seat beside him. She flopped down onto the bench and nailed him with an intense stare.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I just…” He sighed heavily. “I simply needed a moment to myself, out in the fresh air.” Elayne raised an eyebrow, and he quickly conceded, “Alright, I’m nervous about the council. Actually…it’s everything.”

“Okay, let’s unpack this. You said everything is on your mind?” Elayne said, placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“The council. The blasphemy. All the reforms I’ve been trying to put into place. The Final Days. Our family. Everything.” He leaned back again and raised his eyes to the sky. “Every time I try to do something to make life better for everyone, someone throws a wrench in the road. First it was the True Brothers, then the riots, then the peace conference, then all the arguments and debates between the Commons and Lords, now this. All this time, resentment for the clergy was simmering under the surface, and I didn’t see it until it was too late. And now the church is paying the price.

“I chose to walk this path, and now I’m reaping what I’ve sown. All around us are those left behind by the consequences of my actions. Those who died fighting… Those burdened with boundless grief… Those deprived of position and purpose… I used to think our strength lie in our unity. Thanks to you, I now know Ishgard is like any other nation — made up of disparate people with disparate beliefs. And without an enemy to unite us, we recall the differences we once set aside out of necessity, and brother turns against brother….The future I envisioned…’tis far more difficult to secure than I ever imagined…”

“And…Elayne, I…I’m so tired,” he finally confessed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands and massaging his temple with his fingers. “So…goddamn…tired… I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. It’s been almost two years. We’ve gotten a new government set up, but that’s about the only thing we’ve managed to accomplish. Reforms are constantly stalled and debated, down to the most minuscule detail. Attitudes haven’t changed much. The Firmament and Empyreum were built mostly with the help of adventurers because we didn’t have enough hands ourselves. Two years on, so much is still in shambles.

“And the council…what do you do for a faith you no longer believe in yourself?” he said, much more quietly so only she could hear. “I still go to church and pray and recite scripture when I’m supposed to, but in truth? I’ve lost all faith in Halone after the Vault. I know it’s different now, but…the trauma likes to reappear at inopportune times,” he added with a wry grin. “I don’t know what to do. What do I have to do to make everything better?”

Elayne looked off into the distance for a few long moments, thinking hard about what to say while her thumb absently massaged his shoulder. She wasn’t the best person to ask for advice about the greater good, but for Aymeric, she’d sure as hell try.

“As much as I would like to tell you to focus on yourself and your own well-being a little more…I know how much Ishgard means to you. It means a lot to me as well, it’s my home. You are doing more than enough as is, mishka. Sometimes that’s all you can do. That said…I think you need a break. You are fully capable of being Ishgard’s leader, yes, but there is only so much one person can take. What you need is some help. One man can only do so much. Appoint ministers with experience in the fields they are assigned to oversee. Find a protege, someone you can trust to run Ishgard with a fair hand and good morals, and teach them the ropes. When it comes time for a transition, stability is key. You can’t just resign and expect it to work itself out; a beast without a head will fall and destroy everything in one fell swoop, if you get what I mean. Start delegating tasks, mishka.

“As for your faith…in most circumstances, you can believe in whatever the hell you want and no one has the right to tell you otherwise. But when you’re a leader…leaders do not have that luxury, at least in public,” Elayne told him. “In the privacy of your own home you’re a free man, but outside of it, leaders must listen to their people and do right by them. If that means making sacrifices, so be it. When you are a leader, certain behavior is expected, certain behavior is forbidden. You cross the line at your own peril.

“As for the Vault…what am I, chopped liver?” she suddenly exclaimed with a grin. “You and I survived being locked up in the manor for weeks dealing with each other’s mental illnesses, you’ll be just fine in the council. Besides, if you panic, me and Artoirel are with you. I can shut people up with one glare and you know it.”

“Ah yes, thank the gods for your resting bitch face,” Aymeric joked, and he snorted when Elayne smacked his shoulder. “Thank you, Elayne. You don’t mince words, but you do give good advice.”

“All you need is a plan, and you’ll feel much better. Focus on the present and what you can change. Life gets a lot less complicated when you breathe and do just that,” she said cheerfully. “We all have our demons, and they won’t go away easily — probably never — but we can learn to live with them. This council will go well, Profane Fafnir will be taken care of, and Ishgard will have a bright future. I know it will.”

Aymeric smiled and threw an arm around her shoulders to hug her. “Thanks, sis,” he whispered.

Elayne squeezed his hand tightly, and the two sat there in relaxed, contented silence for a while. Personally she thought they needed something positive to think of to help them get through the council, but before she could open her mouth again, Aymeric spoke up. “Before I forget, there are a couple of things we wanted to tell you,” he mentioned.

“Yeah?”

“We…well, Edmont especially, but all of us…we wanted to tell you that we approve of Erenville,” he informed her.

“Wait. You and Dad and Artoirel actually approve? Despite all the shit that happened after Thancred and I broke up?” she said incredulously.

“If you liked him enough to bring him home, we know he’s a good one. You should have seen Edmont after you left. ‘She better keep this one, because he’s perfect.’ It’s obvious he’s crazy about you, Elayne. I trust him not to break your heart like Thancred,” he said cheerfully.

“Ha! Not what I expected you to say, but nice to know. Anything else? It sounds like you have more in the tank,” she prodded.

“As a matter of fact, yes…” Aymeric glanced at his feet and wringed his hands. “Artoirel was going to tell you himself, but between you dealing with the Final Days and Profane Fafnir, he hasn’t gotten much of a chance.”

“Oh? What is it?”

His eyes darted to and from, checking for listeners, then he leaned forward to whsiper by her horn, all conspiring. “You’re going to be an aunt,” he murmured.

Elayne stared at him for ten full seconds as her brain processed the news, and once the ten seconds were up she flew off the bench and hopped around, positively screeching in joy. Aymeric watched her with a huge grin until she calmed herself down enough to sit back down, still trembling in glee.

“You’re not joking? Artoirel and Veronique are having a baby?” she asked.

“Yep! We’re getting a niece or nephew in a few months! Maybe now Edmont will finally get off our asses about giving him grandchildren,” he added, laughing. “You should have seen him when he told us. The only time I’ve seen him that happy was when he got married. Edmont lit up like a Starlight tree.”

“I bet they did. Hell, you saw the happy giggles out of me,” Elayne noted.

“Just do me a favor…don’t tell Artoirel I told you, alright? Act surprised when he corners you and gives you the news. He’s really been wanting to tell you in person.”

“Mum’s the word,” Elayne agreed, and after a beat they both snickered.

They sat there for a few more moments until Aymeric decided it was finally time to drag himself to the Vault for the council. He stood up and offered his hand to Elayne, pulling her to her feet. Before they could start walking, Elayne stopped him.

“Hey…if you need something positive to focus on to get yourself through today…think about our niece or nephew. Everything we do, for these people, for this nation…we do for them. Do it so that they can run around and play on the streets to their heart’s content, without fear of someone or something coming to hurt them. Do it so they can grow up a normal, happy little kid. Do it so they can have the life we wish we had. We owe them that much, at least.”

Aymeric nodded, thinking of how the little baby would arrive in just a few months, in a world so much different than the one their father and grandfather had known when they were young, in a family that had just recently been brought together in a mixture of tragedy and rebuilding. That baby would have so many people who loved them with all their hearts in their life when they were born. Such was the benefit of stitching together their fucked up patchwork quilt of a family.

With their niece or nephew in mind, Aymeric and Elayne walked through the Last Vigil to join their brother at the Vault, ready to do whatever it took to give that child the future they deserved.

[soulstitcher]

Narrative simulation game Snow Town Geek Store announced for PC - Gematsu

Torn Away developer perelesoq has announced Snow Town Geek Store, a narrative simulation game where you work as a salesmen in a 2000s-style geek store. It will be available for PC via Steam. A release date was not announced.

Here is an overview of the game, via perelesoq:

Snow Town Geek Store is a simulator where you work as a salesman in a 2000s-style geek store. Play as a high school dropout trying to save up for a vacation for his mom and a better life for himself. Sell CDs, merch, and snacks: Half-Life, The Sims 2, and Shrek discs, Cheetos, beer, and Hubba Bubba. Build collections of rare merch and pogs, customize your desk, and play retro mini-games. Cheat customers (if your conscience allows) and chat with them to solve their problems or guess their preferences. By stocking the right products, you can turn your humble little shop into the ultimate geek destination—or a shady spot black market goods. Maybe then the emo girl will take you seriously? The game blends colorful pixel art in third-person view with first-person PlayStation 1-inspired 3D graphics. The sound effects are inspired by 8-bit games and The Sims series.

Watch the announcement trailer below. View the first screenshots at the gallery.

Announce Trailer

[soulstitcher]

Birthday Wishes

AO3

———

It was a quiet morning in early spring, just the beginning of the Second Umbral Moon. The Hallows were sound asleep at Livadia, Elayne snuggled up in Erenville’s embrace, out cold, while Jas and Ginny were curled up at the foot of the bed. Erenville had had a little trouble sleeping the previous night, waking up a few times for a minute or two, always kissing Elayne’s forehead before drifting back to sleep. His frequent rousing hadn’t bothered her any, so she got to be the first to greet the new day.

Elayne’s eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted with the sight of a man who looked like an Okeanid god. Sunlight warmed his dark skin, his hair was strewn artfully around the pillow, his chest slowly rose and fell with each breath and drew attention to his defined muscles. His expression was soft, content…happy. She could hear the sound of his heartbeat with her horn resting against his skin, feel his lips on her forehead and his arm around her with his hand poised to rub circles in her back. He was at peace.

She smiled and carefully wriggled free of his grip to prop herself up on her elbows and watch him. How she managed to snag one of the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful men she had ever met, she would never know. She leaned over and pressed a long kiss to the bridge of his nose, whispering, “Happy birthday, dandelion.” With that, she slipped out of bed to go get breakfast and presents ready.

Downstairs, she saw a small stack of presents sitting neatly in the foyer in front of the door. A couple of them were there the day before — a colorful handmade saddle blanket made by Shetona artisans from Lamaty’i, a great big stack of nature books from the Scions — but a few others had been snuck in that very morning by her best friend breaking into the house like he regularly did and leaving them for her to find. Aymeric had delivered a box of milkweed and butterfly bush seedlings for a butterfly garden, while Edmont had commissioned the crafting of a beautiful hummingbird feeder that Elayne had painted herself. And Elayne…she had a few special gifts she’d gone to the ends of the earth to help make.

Elayne dragged the wrapped gifts into the kitchen, her great strength making short work of the heavy bags and boxes and setting them up on the kitchen table. With that done, she pulled out the birthday cookies she’d baked and hidden the day before and put a plate of them at Erenville’s spot. She then ran to the icebox and pulled out a small bouquet of daisies and tulips (with some dandelions here and there), placing them artfully by the cookies. Satisfied with her arrangements, she pulled her hair back into a bun and started on waffles for breakfast.

Before long, Jas and Ginny had smelled bread and zoomed down the stairs, now sitting pretty on either side of her begging for scraps. Elayne sighed inwardly, knowing that with the dogs up, soon her lover would be up and about as well. And before she knew it, she heard the stairs creak as someone came down, footsteps approach her, and a pair of hands snake around her stomach.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Erenville murmured sleepily into her horn, softly kissing the scar on her forehead. His fingers caressed the scars on her belly and slowly slid up her wrap, and his lips drifted down to the back of her neck. “It’s not often you’re up early. What’re you cooking?”

“Waffles, and if you want me to be romantic back, the stove has to be turned off,” she reminded him, though she did throw him a bone by leaning her head back and kissing his jaw with a smile. Erenville decided to satisfy himself for the moment with massaging her hips and torso, making sure to rub in the right spots to guarantee a twitch or moan from her, while she finished making breakfast. Once she’d gotten the waffles onto plates and the stove’s flame extinguished, she threw the pan into the sink and twisted her body around to finally give in to his advances. His hands slipped under her legs and lifted her onto the counter, where he continued his spree of kisses. Elayne responded in kind by running her hands up the sore muscles in his back, earning her a few groans of relief escaping his mouth. She threaded her fingers in his hair and kissed him deeply on the lips before pulling away and resting her forehead against his.

“Happy birthday, darling,” she said in a singsong voice.

Erenville smiled brightly and rubbed his nose against hers. “It’s sweet of you to make breakfast, snowdrop. I would’ve been happy just spending my birthday in bed with you,” he whispered with a hint of a chuckle.

“And you’ll get to do that, but only after we eat and open presents.”

“Fiiiine,” he acquiesced, and he pulled her off the counter and put her back on her feet. He took his plate of waffles from her and started making his way to the table, the pups on his heels, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw the presents waiting for him. He set his plate down and stared at the stack, his jaw slack. “E-Elayne, did…?”

“That’s from all our friends,” Elayne confirmed cheerfully, coming up behind him and sliding her hands around his waist, standing on her tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck, making his back arch with pleasure. “I hope you like them…well, be careful with Aymeric’s. I don’t want dirt all over the table.”

“As you wish, my empress,” he agreed. He got one of the cookies and held it out for her to get a bite, then started working on it himself.

The two tore through breakfast, and before long all they had left were cookies and presents. Erenville went for Lamaty’i’s first and was delighted to see the blanket with all of its vibrant colors, already knowing where he planned to hang it up. He eagerly flipped through the books the Scions sent before Elayne gave him a look and he hastily moved on. He was ecstatic about the seedlings, having talked nonstop about wanting to build a butterfly garden in the yard for the butterflies that came through in the summer, and even happier to see the hummingbird feeder, gliding his fingers very gently over the beautiful hummingbirds and flowers Elayne had painted. But there was one present he was especially eager to open.

By the time he was done with those, Elayne had a small package in her hands, wrapped in bright cloth embroidered with traditional Shetona patterns he’d taught her. “I wanted to wait until you were done opening the others to give you mine,” she explained, holding the package out to him.

“Saving the best for last, I see,” he replied with a grin, taking it from her and gingerly unwrapping the cloth. Inside was a book bound in beautifully embossed leather — no doubt she’d bound the book herself — and a notebook with similar Shetona patterns. Flipping through the book, he discovered snippets of old legends he’d heard throughout Tural.

“So the book is full of Turali legends — I had Pameka in Tuliyollal write them down for me. The binding I did myself,” Elayne said. “That way you can carry those legends with you wherever you go. And the notebook…every page has a spot you can write the date in, and the corners all have these little illustrations I drew in traditional Turali styles…and…”

He put the book down and flipped through the journal, and what he found on the inside of the cover made his heart stop. A small message, in his mother’s handwriting: “For my darling boy Elene’shpya, with love, your mother Cahciua.”

“Where…where did you get this…?” he whispered.

“I…may have snuck back to your old house when you weren’t looking,” Elayne explained sheepishly, averting his eyes. “And I kinda got Shale’s help with the signature. I thought you could use something to jot down all the Shetona legends, so that you don’t lose them.”

Erenville stared at the words embossed in the cover, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He gently set the journal down and pulled her into a tight, bone-crushing hug, his heart fit to burst with love and gratitude. Elayne happily snuggled into him, burying her head in his shoulder.

“Thank you, Elayne…thank you…”

“It was no problem, Eren,” she assured him, hugging him back tight.

He lifted her off her feet and kissed her, tasting the gingerbread and waffles on her tongue, feeling her fingers rub his sides, hearing her stifled laughter in the back of her throat. After a minute, he broke away and knocked his forehead against hers with a big smile.

“Thank you, unangwa’yta,” he murmured, “for making this one of the best birthdays ever.”

Elayne smiled back and took his face in her hands to kiss his forehead.

Once they had cleaned up and gotten the plants and feeder out into the yard, Erenville stuffed the book of legends under his arm, picked up Elayne, and carried her outside and deposited her in the padded rocking swing out on the back porch. He sat down beside her and beckoned to her as he swung his feet up onto the swing and laid back. She clambered on top of him and snuggled into his body, letting him pull her close so her horn rested against his throat. He flipped the book open to his favorite tale and let the tome float in pace, leaving his hands free to hold her to him. He began telling her the tales of his homeland, his voice echoing through her head as she listened close.

[soulstitcher]

After writing up a proper character chart for Elayne, I got the idea to do it for my Azem too! I don’t have pictures of her yet, but once I do, I will edit this post with a proper portrait.

———

True name: Hekate

Nicknames: My star, my moon, little spark

Gender: Female

Orientation: Hades

Class: Pictomancer/Reaper

Appearance

Hair: Black, thick and wavy, sometimes down but usually pulled into a ponytail, especially for a fight

Eyes: Bright blue when she was born like Venat’s, but were turned silvery green after the accident in which she got her ghost powers

Skin: Quite pale, sometimes even bright silver in moonlight. Frequently covered in paint or dirt.

Body marks: Similarly to Elayne, glowing stitch marks on her hands when using her powers (or specifically in Hekate’s case, when sufficiently pissed off).

Tattoos/body mods: A few tattoos, thought not nearly as inked up as Elayne. A cluster of constellations tattooed across freckles on her back. Crescent moon on the back of her neck. Asphodel on left ankle. Butterfly caught in spiderweb with spider underneath, just like Elayne’s, on upper right arm. Dolphin line drawing on left thigh. Both earlobes pierced, with a double lobe and helix piercing in right ear.

Scars: Long jagged scar on left forearm from a bad fall as a teenager. Smaller scars across eyebrow and nose. Several marks on hands and feet from working and walking around barefoot.

Casual outfit: Hekate refused to conform with Amaurotine fashion and instead wore an Okeanid outfit with Amaurotine-inspired elements. It was quite simple, with a cropped halter top, long loose pants, sandals, and a large shawl wrapped around her waist, all in black with embroidered constellations. She also had a star pendant on a long silver chain around her neck that she regularly fidgets with. Silver armbands covering her forearms. On a belt around her shawl rests a paintbrush, a palette, and a black, finely shaped mask with silver accents.

Transformed: Not too different from her human form, possibly the most human-looking of the gang, but with some notable differences. Skin is stark white, and full skeletal rag doll is in effect and settled into black markings like tattoos all over her body. Hair has turned into a mass of black raven feathers. Outfit is similar, but she’s always barefoot, there are some differences with her shawl. She can turn her shawl into a pair of large, feathery black wings protruding from her back, with hundreds of stars dotted across them, then reduce it to black smoke and tie it back around her waist. Seemingly normal, but Hekate liked to subtly lean into the creepy aspects of her transformation, in that she can actually detach her limbs and sew them back on without any note of panic, essentially transforming into a living, breathing rag doll. After ShB, Elayne can also go into this form at will.

Family

Parents: Hekate never met her father; for her entire life, it was always her and her mother, Venat. Venat was living off the high of being appointed Azem and getting to see the world to her heart’s content. She was living among Etheriys’s seafarers, the Okeanids, and enjoying the high life when she very suddenly got pregnant. Amaurotines had long since abandoned the natural means of having children, so the process was completely alien to Venat; nonetheless, she decided to see it through, just to see what would happen. When after nine long months she was handed a bloody, wrinkly little alien screaming her lungs out, instead of the sleeping, contented child she’d seen other parents have…that was the key turning point of her whole life.

Hekate didn’t resemble her much, in looks or personality; just the eyes and attitude were unmistakably Venat. But her irreverence for societal standards and unconventional beliefs undoubtedly came from her. Mother and daughter had a very good and loving relationship, Venat considering her the best thing she ever made, Hekate considering her one of her bestest friends. Venat could be a bit smothering and overprotective when worried about Hekate’s safety, but Hekate was good at calmly deflecting her concerns. Venat taught her everything she knew, supported her relationship with Hades, and even walked her down the aisle at her wedding. Their relationship made the sundering much, much harder for Venat to stomach.

Others: Hades was Hekate’s husband and the love of her life. The two met when the previous Emet-Selch called on Venat for business and brought his apprentice Hythlodaeus with him; Hythlodaeus invited his childhood friend Hades to come along. They found each other intriguing but insufferable at first — until Hekate knocked him on his ass in a mage’s duel. He wanted to know everything about her after that. He fell for her fast, but it took ages for him to admit it to anyone, much less himself — giving her ample time to fall for him too. The two dated for ages before he finally got the nerve to propose, and it was still a long time before they actually married, but it was well worth the wait. They were together for a very long time until the sundering, when tragedy and betrayal split the lovers apart.

Pets: Hekate had a black cat for a very long time named Aila. Aila could often be found weaving through her mistress’s legs, silently judging anyone who came too close. After she passed away, Hekate kept her soul in her spirit lantern, with it later becoming one of the souls Elayne granted Erenville as part of his Boons.

Traits

Disabilities/disorders: Unknown, but suspected to have undiagnosed autism.

Most positive trait(s): A bit difficult to say, but if you asked her, she would say her creativity. She had a big imagination, constantly dreaming up fantastical creatures and places and plants and experimenting with different art styles. This extended to combat, where she gave all her enemies trouble because they didn’t know what she’d pull out next. It’s one of the things Hades loved most about her, just for how happy it made her.

Most negative trait(s): Depends on who you ask because every party involved was biased, but the most consistent one was a lack of empathy/understanding of others. She didn’t understand society and had zero wish to interact with it, content with her own little circle of family and friends. It’s not that she didn’t care, she did — she just preferred to care from a distance. The lack of understanding was mutual — Amaurotines especially didn’t understand her urge to rebel against societal standards or keeping her pursuits to herself rather than sharing it with the star. That last one made a lot of people think of her as selfish.

Greatest fears: As much as she loved being alone, she was very scared of losing her friends and family. On a more personal level, she was quite scared of her ghost powers, never indulging in them if she could avoid it until the Final Days. On a more comical note, she was strangely scared of her own reflection.

Greatest accomplishments: Marrying Hades or becoming a respected artist throughout Etheriys despite the opposition.

Skills

Abilities: All forms of combat, but especially pictomancy and war scythe and glaive combat, ghost powers (secretly), creation magicks, physical strength and agility, breathing underwater, great knowledge of many random and niche fields

Hobbies: painting (especially animation), fighting, gardening, reading, playing with cute critters, swimming, sailing

Likes

Colors: black, silver, all shades of blue

Sounds: French orchestral rock-opera (again…), Mediterranean folk-hard rock-heavy metal (Hades soundtrack), traditional Greek instruments, crashing waves, birds chirping, her friends’ laughter

Textures: sand under her feet, wind blowing through her fingers, warm ocean water, canvas sails, soft blankets

Smells: salty ocean breeze, flowers of the underworld, cinnamon

Drinks: wine, chamomile tea, black tea with extra milk

Literature: Myth, fluffy romance novels, historical fiction, magical realism, and art books. She’s especially fond of retellings of Okeanid myths, with Song of Achilles and Circe being two her of her favorites (yes, I decided they existed in the unsundered era).

Games (modern AU): Like Elayne, Hekate would be obsessed with life sims. She’d have a special fondness for walking simulators. She’d also love single-player RPGs and anything set in a fantasy world, because she’d play games to escape from reality and immerse herself in a whole new world. She’d also play some games just for the art style, particularly anything with traditional hand-drawn 2D animation.

Special interests: Okeanid myth (especially chthonic gods), art, plants, music, cute critters, the ocean, death and funerary rites in other cultures

Other Details

Smokes: Nope.

Drinks: Sometimes drank a glass of wine at home, but never in public.

Drugs: Nope.

Mount: Hekate spent a long time painting creatures into existence until she finally stumbled across Arion. She’d been going about finding an equine mount similar to Grani, and she loved complementary colors, so she ended up with Arion. Since she also did a lot of swimming, Arion can shapeshift into a dolphin for underwater excursions.

Unique habits: She went around barefoot as much as possible, even kicking off her sandals before a fight. She also picked up Hades’s habit of snapping his fingers to perform certain spells.

Fun facts: She did not fight like a typical pictomancer. She did not use weapons often, only painting them into existence when she needed to. She fought much like Lune in CO:E33, levitating and using a lot of acrobatic tricks. She mostly used just her hands to perform magic.

Embarrassing secrets: One time Hekate had a painting mishap where she got stuck hanging upside down in a painting for three days. Not even Hades knows about that one.

Much like Elayne, some parts of Hekate’s story, particularly her culture, fighting style, and some ancient headcanons, are my own creation, often inspired by stuff I’ve seen or watched. The Okeanids, for example, are based off the ancient Greeks, with the name coming from the Oceanids in Greek myth. They are not necessarily part of FFXIV canon.

[soulstitcher]

Too Close to the Sun

AO3

A/N: When the Icarus worm takes over your brain and makes it a metaphor for your favorite bun…

———

“Tell me a story.”

It was a late night in Sharlayan. Elayne had asked Erenville out to a late dinner at the Last Stand, and after a very pleasant meal they had gone on a walk along the seaside cliffs of Tranquility. They eventually found a nice secluded spot along the cliff edge and sat down there to talk.

“A story? What kind of story? I’m chock-full of them,” Elayne asked, fixing the strap of her suspenders. It wasn’t yet cold enough that she needed her big woolen coat, though she did have her favorite Pavlovsky shawl wrapped around her waist over her skirt just in case.

“Hmm…maybe something from Okeanid myth? You’re always going on about all the stories you can tell from there,” Erenville suggested, cocking his head curiously.

“I can work with that. Let’s see…” She thought for a moment until one of her favorites entered her mind. “You know the metaphor of someone flying too close to the sun?”

Erenville nodded.

“The metaphor actually from the story of Icarus. It ends badly, but it’s one of my favorites. It was one of Hekate’s favorites, too.”

“How come?”

“No godly shenanigans, for one. Just mortals being mortals. So…Icarus was the son of Daedalus, a master craftsman and inventor who built the labyrinth that imprisoned the Cretan Minotaur,” Elayne started, stretching her legs out leisurely while Erenville turned his body towards her to indicate he was listening. “Because he alone knew the workings of the labyrinth, Crete’s ruler, King Minos, had him imprisoned in the labyrinth — this was after Theseus defeated the Minotaur — and Icarus was imprisoned along with him. That was where Icarus grew up. After a number of years, Daedalus decided it was time to escape. He began collecting feathers and putting them together with wax to fashion wings. He also made a pair for his son.

“When the wings were ready, Daedalus and Icarus escaped the labyrinth and ran to the ocean shore. Daedalus told him to not fly too close to the sun, for it would melt the wax holding the feathers together and make him fall. They flew off the island and made it a ways away, but against his father’s warnings, Icarus kept flying higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun…until he got too close. Helios, the sun god, viewed this as a threat, so he punished Icarus by bearing the sun’s rays down upon him. And just as predicted, the wax melted off, his feathers scattered, and Icarus plummeted into the sea to his death.

“The general Okeanid consensus on the myth was that it was a warning against hubris. Believing yourself better than a god in any way was one of the worst sins you could commit. But Hekate always had a bit of a different view of it, just like a lot of her other opinions. She never saw it as a cautionary tale of what happens when you get too cocky. She saw Icarus as someone who, for that single moment, had all the freedom in the world, and experienced all the joy of youth and flying as free as a bird.”

“And that joy blinded him to the dangers he encountered until it was too late,” Erenville finished solemnly.

“I wouldn’t say that…I think he just made a mistake,” Elayne refuted softly. “And that’s human nature. Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes it costs us. You learn and grow from them. And maybe, at the end of the day, you might find those mistakes may have been worth it.”

Something in her voice made Erenville wonder if she’d ever made costly mistakes in the past. She was once the Warrior of Light, now Warden of Souls — she had to have made some bad choices at some point. And the knowledge that she had made mistakes far more consequential than his own and was still in one sane piece settled him enough to tell her something he had told no one else.

“You know, um…I think there was a moment in my life, a little while ago, where I think I may have flown too close to the sun myself,” he confessed quietly.

Elayne’s eyebrow shot up, imploring him to elaborate.

“Not long after I first came to Sharlayan, there was a gleaner who taught me everything I needed to know about the job,” he started slowly, crossing his arms. “They showed me how to trap creatures without hurting them, how to use a blowpipe, how to steer the boats through the canals to Labyrinthos, everything. And not once did they leave me when I needed help. Before I knew it, they asked me to lunch more and more often, and we talked so much, and…before I knew it, I felt that warmth in my heart whenever I thought about them.”

“You’d fallen in love,” Elayne realized softly.

Erenville nodded. “I had no way to know for sure if they felt the same, of course, but…all the attention and care they gave me made me think so. So one day, I asked if I could speak with them in private. From the way they were acting, they also had something they wanted to tell me. The second we were alone…I confessed I had fallen for them.”

“And…how did that go?” she asked gingerly.

“It…did not end well,” he said with a grimace. “I wanted a full romantic relationship. I wanted connection, I wanted commitment…I wanted it all. They…did not. They just wanted sex. They were not…happy about the prospect of me wanting more, to say the least. And I may have gotten upset and said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

Of course you got upset, they broke your heart, Elayne wanted to say, but she held her tongue. She didn’t want to make things worse, not with how rigid his ears had gone.

“I haven’t seen them since. After that, I swore off romance — any close relationships. I was angry and bitter and all around quite unhappy with everything. I came here to follow my dreams, still reeling from one bad relationship, only to be rejected again the moment I felt safe enough to pour my heart out. As time passed, and I cooled off, I came to the conclusion that we simply wanted different things, and there was nothing wrong with that. But…it still hurt quite badly,” he admitted. “You could say that I flew too close to the sun, and I got burned because of it,” he added with a quiet, rueful laugh.

Elayne watched him silently, her heart aching for him. She too was no stranger to broken hearts and relationships gone bad, and she could tell you it sucked. “As someone who regularly fucks up social cues…none of it was your fault. Not many people understand that they can give people the wrong idea, even when they know that person is autistic. It’s on them for giving you the wrong cues.” She looked at her hand, then back at him, still looking out at the sea. “Is…is it okay for me to touch your shoulder?”

He said nothing for a moment, then nodded, and Elayne gently gripped his shoulder tightly. She could barely feel it, but she could have sworn he relaxed, just slightly. “Erenville, I am so sorry you’ve been hurt like that. You did not deserve to have your heart broken. Some people don’t understand what others will think. Some people are simply legit assholes.” She sighed heavily. “Do you want a hug? I don’t know about you, but I always find they make me feel better, so…”

Erenville stared at her incredulously before almost timidly nodding, and she sat up on her knees, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and hugged him tightly. She expected him to tense up, but she did not expect his muscles to loosen, the tension to drip away from his spine, his ears to droop down onto his neck with one landing on her head, his body to lean into her touch. He looked like he was in heaven.

“You will find someone who loves you for everything you are, Erenville. I know you will,” she whispered into his ear.

…Do you not see what you do to me, Elayne? Erenville thought, but he said nothing. He simply smiled and hugged her back.

Once that heartfelt moment was over, the two pulled apart and moved away so that they could view the moon in peace. On a whim, Elayne turned her body so so she faced the opposite direction and flopped down on her back beside him, looking up at him with a stupid grin. Erenville held back an amused snort and laid back with her, facing her. As she stared up at the moon and stars above, when she wasn’t looking, he reached out and stroked the scales on her cheekbones with his bare fingers.

Oh, the irony…to have futilely chased the sun…only to fall for the moon instead…

[soulstitcher]

The Metro Problem

AO3

A/N: This is mostly based off my experience riding the metro in Spain, the super cute game Russian Subway Dogs, and quick research on the Saint Petersburg Metro. I absolutely almost fell over on the train my first time.

———

There were many ways to get around Rookmourne. Most people knew about the ferries and the sleighs, but only a few outsiders knew of one of the most interesting and fun transportation systems on all of Ilsabard.

That was the Rookmourne metro.

Commissioned by Empress Sofiya’s father, Emperor Konstantin II, the underground railway had become an important fixture of a city — indeed, a nation — that spent a good part of the year in perpetual day or night. It provided light when there was none, and darkness when the clouds were not enough. It was basically a Rook rite of passage to brave the great big scary metro and its high speeds and sharp turns, and most people had just as much fun riding the rails as they did listening to the bells jingling on the sleighs in the holiday season.

Elayne had been introduced to the metro early on, going there with her father whenever he went to the capital for work. She distinctly remembered begging to keep riding the train to every stop, staring excitedly out the windows at all the dogs wandering the stations, and how her father could never refuse her when she was that happy. Many years later, when she finally returned to her homeland and the capital, she was eager to ride the rails again — and this time, introduce her friends to the joys of a train.

“Children! Come on, we’re going out for a few minutes!” Elayne called through the guest apartment of the townhouse she and the Scions were staying in. Within a few moments, Alphinaud and Alisaie bolted down the stairs into the kitchen, fastening their winter coats on the way down.

“Where are we going, Elayne? Are we visiting the Winter Palace?” Alphinaud asked eagerly, having wanted to visit the home of the imperial family since before they journeyed to Kievan Rus.

“We can stop at the station close by it if you want, but no, the Winter Palace isn’t open to visitors right now,” Elayne told him. “It’s open throughout winter, but not at the end when the nation is preparing for spring. I’m taking you two on a little field trip.”

The twins didn’t stop to consider what this field trip could be, not even when Alisaie saw Estinien and Thancred snickering at the table. They simply followed Elayne out the door, tightening their scarves against the cold. They stuck close to her, doing their best to weave through the throng of people on the sidewalks and the horse-drawn sleighs thundering down the street.

They eventually made it to the above-ground entrance of Shushary. The twins followed Elayne down the stone steps, going slow in case she needed to stop for anything since she was still recovering from her wounds. Passerby seemed to understand she wasn’t a hundred percent, so no one said anything or cursed at them and simply walked on by. Elayne was a bit winded by the time they made it to the bottom, but she was still content as they walked to the ticketmaster. She negotiated for three tickets, and since she couldn’t stand for too long, the ticketmaster handed her a pin and waved them through.

“Where are we going? What’s that pin for?” Alisaie asked curiously.

“Admiralteyskaya. It’s the closest station to the Winter Palace. I’m not in the mood for Nevsky Prospekt today, so we’ll skip that route for now. This pin is to tell any passengers that you’re disabled or injured and need a seat. There are specified areas for disabled folk, but it’s only for wheelchair users or anyone else with a mobility aid. It doesn’t cover everyone, so they give you a special pin to identity yourself as disabled or injured.” She pinned it to the front of her coat and beckoned to them. “Come on. We need to go.”

As she handed them their tickets, the twins glanced around in awe at the sights before them. The walls were lined with dark marble tiles, with the low hanging lights dimmed to help with passengers’ eyes. Women in long skirts and suspenders and men in smart waistcoats and trousers, most in woolen shinels and valenki, were filing orderly into the train. Many of the women in particular were wrapped in spectacular Pavlovsky or Orenburg lace shawls, with the most elderly with kerchiefs covering their hair. They were all from very different races: Hyur, Drow, Xaela, Veena Viera, and even a Hrothgar or two. Most of the words murmured through the throngs were Poshyrenyy, but the twins caught a few snippets of Drow, some Doman, and even Eorzean Common. Stray dogs wandered through the passengers’ feet, sniffing for food and occasionally sneaking up on someone and barking loudly to make them drop their treat. Elayne snapped them out of their observations by practically pushing them onto the train, hopping on after them.

The train itself looked little like the glorious steam trains riding the rails throughout Ilsabard. There were rows of wooden seats and benches on the walls and large windows lining the interiors, with a smooth wooden floor that reminded Alphinaud of the streetcars found in Karelingrad, another prominent Rook city on the southeastern coast of Kievan Rus. Brass poles and rails were found throughout the train, and there were automatic doors powered by aether that opened at the quick push of a button.

The second a young man saw the pin on Elayne’s coat, he stood up and offered her his seat, leading her to graciously accept with a word of thanks in her native tongue. She slid into the seat beside an older, dapper-looking man and wrapped her arm comfortably around the railing, massaging her leg with a slightly pained grimace. When Alphinaud went looking for a seat, Elayne stopped him with an outstretched foot, glaring at him.

“Oh no, you two stay standing,” she told him sternly. “That’s the rule around here. Unless you have a good reason to be sitting down, you don’t sit. Unless you want a babushka to come around and hit you upside the head with a shoe.”

The mention of a shoe was all it took for Alphinaud to stop looking and stand there like a soldier waiting for his next order, trembling slightly. Alisaie snickered into her elbow at the sight. Elayne smirked to herself, knowing neither of them knew just what riding the underground rails was like, and they were about to find out.

An alarm sounded to signal that the doors were closing, and the moment the train was shut nice and tight, it took off at lightning speed. The sudden jolt caused Alphinaud to faceplant, while Alisaie clung to the pole for dear life. True to form, just about everyone else stayed stuck to the spot as though their feet were glued to the floor, and only a few of them paid attention to the chaos the twins were causing. Elayne had to stuff her knuckles in her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

“Madam?”

Elayne turned her head to see the owner of the voice. It was the man beside her, watching the twins struggle to regain their footing on a sharp turn.

“Oni tvoi?” he asked quietly, motioning to the twins.

She nodded.

“Eto ikh pervyy raz?”

She held back a snort and nodded again with a smile. The man grinned at the twins. “You speak Eorzean?” he asked them, his accent thick. They nodded vigorously. “Keep your feet flat and steady, and hold on tight to the rail. Wrap your arms around it if you have to. Anticipate speed and sharp turns and sway along with them. Then you won’t be tripping all over your feet like slippery fish.”

The twins followed his advice to the letter, and soon they were trundling along as smoothly as the other passengers. They stopped at several stations, and the twins learned how to navigate the constant flow of passengers hopping on and off at various intervals, a feat Elayne herself couldn’t accomplish when she was a teenager. Finally they made it to Admiralteyskaya, and the trio walked off the train and up the steps.

The twins got to see the Winter Palace through the gates, then once they got bored they asked to get some lunch. Elayne took them to a shawarma shop and got them wraps, then they hiked back to Admiralteyskaya and got back on the train to Shushary, the twins enduring the new challenge of keeping their shawarma wraps out of the jaws of the friendly but mulish stray dogs that rode the rails along with them. They successfully made it back to the townhouse without getting any of their food stolen. Elayne handed out wraps to everyone, and they all had an enjoyable lunch strewn throughout the kitchen and living room, laughing heartily when they heard how the twins did on their very first trip on the Rookmourne metro.

[soulstitcher]

Okay I have decided! Due to my recent overstimulation regarding my OC’s name, I have decided it is time to rename her. From now on, her name will be Elayne Hallow. I will be spending the next couple days editing everything like a madwoman, then I will start writing the next oneshot!

[soulstitcher]

6/14/25 How does your wol(oc) like to show their creativity?

[soulstitcher]

Welcome to the New Age

AO3

A/N: It is posted! There is a good chance I will be making some edits to the chapters already posted soon. I also plan on rewriting one or two. And I do plan to make some edits to this blog. Spoilers for 7.2!

———

Early in the morning, Elayne was sleeping peacefully with Erenville in one of the beds in the Backrooms break rooms, his arm wrapped around her torso and her tail draped over his hips. Their new six-month-old Samoyed puppy, Ginny, slept with her head on their legs, with Jasmine snoring at the foot of the bed. Ginny only recently entered the picture, found not long after all the trouble with the dome and Nitowikwe’s enlisting the Hallows for help getting her business back in order. Erenville couldn’t resist Ginny’s or Elayne’s adorably pleading eyes when they found her, and so she had become a member of their family, proving exceptionally adept at calming anyone in distress.

Since the fight between Tuliyollal and Alexandria, the Hallows had spent as much time as they could away from Yyasulani. Erenville could hardly bear what the Alexandrians had done to his homeland and to his family, while Elayne despised all the overbearing stimuli of the electrified city and the way they treated people’s souls, so they avoided the place like the plague if they could, only visiting when absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, with recent events involving an apparently revived and much more-crazed Sphene and the introduction of so-called “neo regulators,” they had to stay longer than they would have liked.

At least the pups were there to distract everyone from the fear and worry.

That morning, all the conscious denizens of the Backroom had gotten the surprise of their lives when Y’shtola and Shale returned from Living Memory with a guest. Her body had been so ravaged by lightning aether that she couldn’t walk, and Shale had had to carry her the whole way. Once they’d gotten the young woman into a bed and taken a closer look, Y’shtola discovered, to her horror, that the poor woman’s soul was utterly mangled. There was only person they knew of who was capable of repairing souls, and Y’shtola sent Alisaie to go wake her. Alisaie pet the pups before gripping Elayne’s shoulder.

“Elayne, wake up!” she quietly called, shaking her.

Elayne grunted in her sleep, but did not wake. Alisaie shook her more forcefully, but she simply stirred and tried to bat her hands away. Sighing, Alisaie climbed up on the bed with her legs hanging off and proceeded to shake her as hard as she could, even bouncing the bed slightly.

The vigorous movement finally woke Elayne up, and she sleepily propped herself up on her elbows, checked her watch, and proceeded to give Alisaie the stink eye. “By the Mother of Witches, tiger, do you not know what time it is?” she muttered indignantly. “I was dead asleep.”

“I’m sorry —“ Elayne briefly side-eyed into the distance, knowing she wasn’t. “—but we’ve got a little situation that we really need your help with,” Alisaie hurriedly explained.

“Can’t it wait a few hours?” Elayne tiredly asked.

Alisaie vigorously shook her head, and Elayne finally realized that she was actually spooked. Such was usually a sign of something quite bad. Sighing, Elayne slithered out of Erenville’s grasp, kissed his forehead, and slipped out of bed. “Alright, what do you need me for so bad?”

“I…I don’t really know how to explain it, honestly. I think it’s best if I just show you,” Alisaie said in an ominously high voice.

Elayne raised a suspicious eyebrow, but said nothing as she nudged Ginny awake to accompany her. The Sammie woofed softly and hopped off the bed, landing much more quietly than someone would expect of a hyperactive puppy. Alisaie led Elayne down the hallway to another break room, passing by the beds until they came to one that had a crowd around the cubicle, peering in anxiously at its mysterious occupant. At the sound of Alisaie’s footsteps, the crowd automatically parted to let them through. Surrounding the bed was Y’shtola, Krile, and Shale, all watching its sleeping occupant intently. When Y’shtola heard Elayne’s bare feet tiptoeing across the electrope floor, she turned and regarded her seriously.

“Elayne. I’m sorry we woke you, but this could not wait. This is going to be a bit of a shock for you, but…you’re the only one who can repair a soul,” Y’shtola whispered. “And…this one is in desperate need of repair.”

Elayne looked past Y’shtola’s shoulder and gasped.

In the bed was a young woman who couldn’t have been much older than Alisaie, somewhere in her early twenties. Unlike the regal dress and finery she had once worn, she was clad in simple cotton nightclothes, with no embellishments whatsoever. Her normally finely curled hair was mussed and crooked in some places, in fact looking more normal than she thought it could be. She was thin and pale, sickly-looking, with IVs strapped to her body, yet though a sick person would be expected to shiver and cough, this woman did nothing of the sort. Instead she did not move an inch, and Elayne’s sharp hearing could not even detect a sign of breath in her lungs. And she had to be ice cold. The only reason she wouldn’t be reacting to the extreme body temperature…was if her soul had lost any sense of its workings.

None of them had ever expected to see Queen Sphene laid low like this.

“What…the…fuck?” Elayne murmured. “Is that who I think it is?”

Y’shtola nodded. “Aye. Queen Sphene. Not a simulacrum…but in the flesh.”

“Good god…flesh and soul…and her soul, it’s…it’s torn to pieces,” Elayne whispered, her Haunted powers allowing her to see the state of Sphene’s soul with just a cursory glance.

“Between the extreme concentration of lightning aether and the time spent as the Endless’s puppet, the damage to her soul is extensive,” Alisaie quietly informed her, picking up Ginny as best she could and hugging her. “Y’shtola and I have already used a porxie to siphon away the excess aether. Now all that’s left is to mend the tears in her soul. Since you’re the only one capable of such…”

“Say no more,” Elayne said, still watching Sphene warily. She’d ask how the hell this was possible later. For now, she had an extensive stitching job to do.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether fixing Sphene’s soul was a good idea if she was just like her Endless counterpart, but figured they wouldn’t know until they did, so she gritted her teeth and got to work. She placed a hand, with glowing blue stitch marks, on Sphene’s forehead and slowly seized her soul, from her head down to her toes, then carefully pulled it up and out of her body, where the shape of her soul, torn into pieces with badly frayed edges, floated above the bed.

Elayne made an aetherial needle and thread and got to work, starting with the heart, the most important part of the soul. Once she was done there, she went to the head, stitching up the frayed edges around the face and neck. With that finished, she worked on the joints in the arms and legs. It was careful, painstaking work, and by the time Elayne was finally done, whatever energy she had was gone, and her bones ached with fatigue. She couldn’t wait to go back to bed. With Sphene’s soul fixed, she lowered it back into her body and settled it in.

Within seconds, Sphene suddenly breathed in and out heavily, as though she had been about to drown, her chest rising and falling quickly. Y’shtola checked her vitals, and it showed that her pulse had quickened considerably. Her fingers and toes began to twitch, and she began to stir and groan in her slumber. They had brought her back from the brink.

“Well done, Elayne,” Y’shtola approved with a smile. “Queen Sphene will live to see another day.”

“I…I still don’t know how this is possible,” Lamaty’i admitted. “The Endless were made from the memories of the dead. Sphene was an Endless. The real Sphene died of illness four centuries ago!”

“I…died…?”

Everyone jumped when they heard a familiar voice. Their heads whipped around, and they saw that Sphene had opened her eyes, looking around blearily for the source of the sound. “Whatever…do you mean?” she murmured. “I…I am not dead! I’m not!”

“Well…she’s up,” Shale said quietly. Elayne instinctively backed away a few steps, watching the frail woman warily.

Sphene looked around in utter confusion, wondering where in the world she was. “What…what is this place? Where is everyone? Otis…Zelenia…” She turned her head and finally saw the crowd of strangers around her bed, and immediately pushed herself as far as she could into the corner without using her legs, trembling. “And who are you people?!”

Alisaie put Ginny down on the floor and rushed forward. “Calm down — we mean you no harm. You’ve been unwell, and it wouldn’t do to strain yourself,” she said placatingly.

Sphene’s eyes flitted frantically across their faces until they landed on Elayne, just as scared of her as Sphene was of them, only instead of shaking, her jaw was set and just staring intensely. “Please…help me,” she whispered. “I don’t understand…any of this…”

“Of course. But if I might confirm some things first…you are Queen Sphene of Alexandria, are you not?” Y’shtola asked seriously.

Sphene, still quivering, nodded slowly.

“And ere you awoke here, you were in another unfamiliar place. Is that correct?”

Alisaie glanced at Elayne and saw she had nearly left the room, so she walked over and whispered, “You can go back to bed if you want. We shouldn’t need you for anything else right now.”

Elayne nodded rigidly and started to leave, then stopped and looked at Ginny, her tongue lolling out eagerly and tail wagging happily. “Ginny should stay with you. In case she needs something to distract her,” Elayne muttered.

Alisaie nodded in agreement, and Elayne walked back to her bedroom. She poured out a drought of pain medicine to kill her headache, then slipped back into bed, accidentally waking her lover slightly.

“Elayne?” Erenville murmured. He felt her hands slide around his waist as she laid back down, and without opening his eyes he got her tail and draped it back over his hips. “Where were you?”

“Alisaie needed my help with something,” Elayne whispered, snuggling into him as his arms hugged her to him tightly. “It’s all good.”

“Does she still need you?”

Elayne grunted a no, and she soon drifted off back to sleep, the medicine quickly dulling the throbbing in her head.

———

The Hallows slept soundly until morning, and in the meantime the others explained to Sphene all that had happened since she was put to sleep four hundred years ago. As predicted, she did not take it well, breaking down sobbing when she found out everyone she had known and loved were long gone. Of course, that was what Ginny was for — she jumped onto the bed and licked Sphene’s face until her tears subsided. Once she was calm, she was quiet, silently listening to the Scions’ and Oblivion’s whispered conversations, absently running her hands through Ginny’s fur.

During that time, Erenville finally woke up and started laying out their clothes for the day, but when he went to wake Elayne, he saw that she was sleeping like the dead. He glanced at the dresser and saw her vial of pain medicine was lower than he last checked, and his eyes narrowed. He ran to get a cup of hot tea, placed it on the nightstand, and gently shook her shoulder.

“Elayne?” he whispered. “Elayne, it’s time to get up.”

There was not much that could make her stir, but the sound of his voice usually did the trick. Elayne moaned in her sleep, then Erenville leaned over and kissed her temple a few times until she started giggling and batted him away. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” she said with a smile. She yawned and pulled him in for a kiss. “What’s with the frown, dandelion?”

“Are you alright? I saw you took pain meds last night. Did something happen?” he asked, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand.

Elayne froze when she remembered the events of that morning. How the hell was she going to explain this to Erenville, who was just as wary of Sphene as her?

“Oh, uh…I’m not sick or anything,” she said hastily. “I’m fine now. There was an…incident…early this morning, and Alisaie ran and got me because a soul needed to be stitched up.”

“Really? As much trouble as you and the Scions get into, that doesn’t happen often. Did the new Sphene come after someone?” he asked in concern.

“No, it’s…a lot more complicated,” she replied awkwardly. Erenville stared at her for a long moment before he motioned for her to sit down on the floor before him. “Eh?”

“Tell me about it while I do your hair,” he told her. “Whatever it is, I won’t be upset and I won’t judge.”

Elayne obeyed and sat down before him, and she told him all about the discovery of the real Sphene as he pulled her hair back into low, twin braided ponytails. He froze for a moment in shock, but quickly calmed himself and continued working. By the time her voice had gone hoarse, he was done with her hair, and he slid down onto the floor behind her. He hugged her to him and let her lean back into his chest.

“That is…a lot to take in,” he finally concluded.

Elayne nodded. “Thing is…I don’t know what to do. The Endless version of her destroyed so much. How do we know the real Sphene isn’t the same?” she asked, feeling her stomach twist itself into knots.

“From what you’ve told me about her…without seeing her in the flesh, she truly seems like a different person to me,” Erenville started slowly. “I would give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“But what if she isn’t? What if she’s still the same? Then what?”

“Knowing you…you need a plan. Part of why you’re so nervous is because you don’t know what to expect. That’s any new person you meet. Observe her actions and her words; you will learn what to do around her you once you know. Dissociate the things you associate most with Endless Sphene from the real Sphene. Try to be like Hythlodaeus: see not her face, but her soul. The Endless Sphene did not have a soul, so that’s already one fundamental level of difference between the two. The more you interact with her, the more differences you’ll find between the two, and the more comfortable you’ll be around her. If it turns out she’s not all that different and just as genocidal, someone will take care of her faster than a rat up a drainpipe. It’s much easier to take down a flesh and blood human being than an AI.”

“Are you sure?”

“She has no authority in Alexandria now. She is nothing more than a frail mortal woman now. You hold all the cards. You have all the power. You are in control. Even if she tries, she can’t do anything to you. You are going to be just fine. Chances are all this worrying will be for nothing,” he told her confidently.

Elayne sighed and kissed his jaw. “Why is it that you always have the most sense out of the two of us?”

“You have a lot more going on in that lovely brain of yours, that’s why,” he joked tiredly, kissing her temple. “Doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

“Love you too, dandelion,” she whispered.

Their snuggling on the floor was interrupted after a few minutes by Alisaie, who poked her head around the corner looking for them. “Elayne? Sphene asked for you,” she told them.

“She’s looking for me? What does she need me for?”

“I’m not sure. She just asked if she could speak with the ‘lady with the horns.’ I don’t think she’s ever seen an Au Ra before,” she remarked.

Putting out of mind the possibility that her entire race had gone extinct in the unlost world, Elayne sighed and got to her feet. Erenville also stood up and spoke to her quietly before she left. “You’re going to be fine, snowdrop. I promise,” he whispered. Elayne nodded, squeezed his hand, and left the room with Alisaie.

When they got to Sphene, they saw her sitting upright in bed, silently petting Ginny’s head resting on her lap, staring absently at the wall. She looked slightly better after a bath and hot meal, but nothing could cure her dejection. Alisaie left them to it, and after a few moments, Elayne knocked on the wall to get her attention. Sphene looked up and her eyes widened.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you. The lady with the horns.”

“Yeah. I’m Elayne. Alisaie said you wanted me for something?”

“Oh. Um…I just…wanted to ask you a few things.”

“…Okay…do you mind if I sit on the bed?”

Sphene shook her head, and Elayne cautiously walked over and sat down at the foot of the bed. She reached over and scratched Ginny’s ears.

“…I suppose this dog is yours?” Sphene asked.

Elayne nodded. “Her name’s Ginseng. Ginny for short. In case you’re wondering, both of my dogs are named after tea. My other one’s Jasmine,” she told her, trying to sound a little friendly.

Sphene smiled slightly. Better than nothing. “I love dogs,” she whispered. “I had a hound named Dash when I was a little girl. He died not long before the Storm Surge.”

“My father had a laika when I was little, named Meti. Some of our neighbors also had sled dogs. Where I’m from, a lot of people get around with sleighs, but dog sleds are common too,” Elayne replied casually.

The two of them sat there in silence for a few moments, unsure where to take the conversation next.

“So…you were paralyzed before the girls treated you. How has that been?”

“I can walk, but…there’s very little strength in my arms and legs. I had to bathe sitting in a chair, and Shale had to help me wash my hair. I couldn’t stand for long.”

“Mm. With time, enough exercise, and good nutrients, you’ll build up strength in no time. Just ask for help when you need it and be patient,” Elayne said.

Sphene nodded and they were quiet again. Until —

“…So…Y’shtola and Alisaie told me everything,” Sphene continued, looking up at her.

“Your illness? Everkeep? Interdimensional fusion? Zoraal Ja and the other Sphene? The Endless? Everything?”

“Enough to get the picture. But…I still can’t believe it.”

Don’t know about you, but I’d certainly believe it when I can’t get any of the sensations out of my head. “Do you want me to be gentle or just come out and say it? I can do either, but I’m a lot better at being blunt,” Elayne offered.

“…As much as I’ll hate hearing it…I need to hear it,” Sphene conceded with a determined glint in her eye.

“The Alexandria you once knew is gone. And I suspect so is most everyone you know and love. It’s much different than what you know. You are not their queen. You have no authority here. You’re just a regular, insignificant citizen. If I’m being honest, I don’t think you’ll like the new Alexandria much.”

“People’s memories of a person are — or were — erased when they die?”

Aegis thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Souls are treated as casually as dirt?”

Another nod.

“Someone or something — Preservation, I presume — faked my death and used it to control the nation and its people?”

A vigorous nod.

“…Then you may be right. I may not like it. But…I want to ask…why do you not seem to like it?” Sphene asked. “Or your partner, for that matter?”

“Alexandria destroyed Erenville’s homeland — people, places, culture, environment, all of it — and acted like it was no big deal when they essentially destroyed an entire civilization and — directly or indirectly — forced the survivors to essentially assimilate or die. And we have no idea what they did to his mother, but given that her Endless self — yes, she’s dead, and memories of her were erased — was leading a resistance cell and under no circumstances wanted to tell us the circumstances of her death, it is pretty likely Preservation, or whomever, done did something pretty fucked up.”

“…That is actually quite justified,” Sphene remarked, a wave of secondhand guilt flashing across her face. “That…that’s terrible.”

“Don’t give me that look, you didn’t choose to have what happened to you happen. You are innocent in this,” Elayne told her firmly. “As for me…it’s a lot pettier, but…my senses are much stronger and more sensitive than most people, and just about everything inside the dome is way too overwhelming for me. The sensations, that is, not the people. The rain isn’t that bad, but the constant flashing lightning…the electric hum of the technology in Everkeep…it’s too much. Most people can just tune the unnecessary background noise, but…my brain lacks the ability to properly filter that out. I experience it all. Every flash, every sound. It all hits me in the face. And because of that, life here, for me, is hell.”

“…I’m so sorry you have to live with that…it sounds like a living nightmare…”

“Luckily, that’s just inside the dome. Outside is a lot better for my senses. And my friends invented a sensory spell for me and my other autistic friend, so it’s not been as bad it could be,” Elayne said, waving it away. “The other thing for me is how the people treat souls. I…I wasn’t raised like that, to say the least. You don’t treat them like disposable objects.”

“Speaking of souls…Alisaie told me you managed to repair mine. Thank you,” Sphene told her gratefully.

Elayne nodded without comment. “…In all honesty…for a split second I thought the Endless version of you was back. The Endless were made from artificial intelligence. You can outsmart AI, but you sure as hell can’t reason with it. It knows only what it was programmed to do. So to see you actually had a soul, mangled as it was…was reassuring. I did not like the Endless Sphene.”

“And this version?” Sphene asked jokingly.

Elayne looked up her and down, finally meeting her eyes. For the first time, they were twinkling. “…It’s better,” Elayne finally conceded.

Sphene snorted, not an elegant, polite snort Elayne would have expected out of the Endless Sphene. It was loud, hearty, genuine. That sealed it. The real Sphene was nothing like the Endless Sphene.

“So…with all that said…even if you don’t like it, do you think could stand to see what Alexandria has become in your absence?”

“Even if I don’t like it…I have to. I need to see that my people…or their descendants at least…are thriving with my own eyes,” Sphene decided resolutely. “If they are happy and thriving, then…I can leave well enough alone.”

“Okay then! Ready to see the new Alexandria?”

Sphene nodded, and Elayne helped her out of bed and led her out of the room and into the new age.

[soulstitcher]

Something really weird I don’t know if other autistic writers experience…you ever get the urge to change a character’s name because you suddenly can’t stand the sound of it? This is like the third or fourth time it’s happened with my OC. The revulsion passes, but the fact that it’s happened multiple times with the same name says something. It’s not just hearing her name out loud — just hearing myself think it makes me feel like peeling the skin off my head. The trouble is I’m already 37 oneshots in to my AO3 fic about her and that’s the name the audience knows her by. Is it a fun self-indulgent project for me? Absolutely. But because other people read it, I’m clueless about what to do here.

[soulstitcher]

Does anyone else worry that every character they write gives off autism vibes bc that's the only real POV you know?

[soulstitcher]

A charming pixelated town with a terribly dark secret….. we’ve officially announce Grave Seasons, our upcoming murder mystery farming simulator this weekend at Summer Games Fest.

AND, we’re collaborating with Blumhouse Games to bring out game to life.

I’ve never been more proud to be the Narrative Director of Perfect Garbage.

[soulstitcher]

Comment or reblog with specific classes since there's way too many for one poll. Of course plenty of people level everything but for the lore of it, what do you consider the main one?

If you can't narrow it down to 1, how did you get to those 2+ classes? A reaper who discovered a love of song and became a bard? A botanist on a revenge quest after losing their family? A culinarian who couldn't find what they needed on the market and said fine I'll get it myself?

Optional prompts to think about: Did they grow up learning that class? Fresh in it in MSQ? What do they think of their guild, past or current? Are the class quests even part of your story? If their primary class is a newer one, do they feel bad about giving up their old primary?

[soulstitcher]

The first Demo will be out on the fifth!