#☆ shoh

[chouettecrivaine]

dead woman walking

Fandom: @shepherds-of-haven ! A little drabble of my MC who I have grown unexpectedly attached to and now she dances around in my head all of the time

Characters: Trouble/OC

Notes: 1.6k, angst, depressing introspection, the world's most OVERDRAMATIC girl has the most OVERDRAMATIC kiss

Summary: Lark has decided that the best course of action is to go on the mission alone, even if fatality is certain. She plans to leave in the middle of the night when nobody can stop her, but first there are some feelings she needs to put to rest.

Even if the trip from her room to Trouble's was familiar, Lark couldn't help but slow her steps as reticence pulled against her on every step. The magelights lining the hallway, for once, didn't seem as warm and homey as before - instead, Lark could only focus on that one spot of darkness between each fixture. It didn't matter how far the warm light stretched; the shadows always made their way to her.

She stopped just outside the door to Trouble's room, standing perfectly still and taking a deep breath. In the stillness, time didn't exist to her. Lark could pretend that she wasn't heading off to her final battle, a one-woman army marching straight into extinction. Maybe this was the battle she was created for - or maybe she was damning everyone by throwing herself away when she knew her reality couldn't be remade. Either way, the thought hollowed out her body and filled it with ice, the way she had been before. Somehow, Lark always knew she was going to die alone. At least this way, she could save anybody that she had tricked into caring for her from riding straight into the maws of death for her sake.

Lark had made peace with it, as much as she could. Her time in the Shepherds had reminded her all too well how to want to live, but blind hope wasn't something she had been able to afford for a while. This was her last stand, and she could accept that. It was bound to happen eventually in this line of work. There was just one thing she needed to do - one box left to check - before she could leave her loose ends in the hands of others.

Finally composed, Lark turned and knocked on the solid door, each in rapid succession of the last. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding against her ribcage and rising into her throat with every beat. Her mouth went dry, though she couldn't figure out exactly why. She heard a soft shuffling on the other side of the door and forced herself to swallow, determined to keep up with her own façade. 

Trouble opened the door, more alert than Lark had expected, and gave her a friendly once-over. Despite not being bleary-eyed and half asleep, he still blinked a few times as if to make sure it was Lark in front of him. Easily, he smiled at her, unsuccessful in keeping his gaze covert as it lingered on her untied hair. During the day, Lark kept it in two braids circled around her head and pinned closely to her skull. She only ever kept her hair down when she was sleeping, and the few times Trouble had seen it, he'd been silently fascinated. Without fail, the attention would send a wave of excitement through her body, but now her apprehension was too strong for even that to shine through. Still, she smiled back at him.

"What're you doing here, Birdie?" Trouble asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. He only stood there for a moment before hurrying to make room for Lark. "Oh, I mean, you're welcome to come in. If you want."

Lark shook her head. "No, that's alright. I just needed to tell you something important."

Though he kept the mood light, Lark noticed how Trouble's face immediately softened. She noticed that when he was happy to see her - so, normally - his eyes seemed to sparkle as if the golden rings around his pupils were pure ore. Now, everything was warm seawater and honey. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

Lark's heart stopped beating, only to grow so quickly she thought it might burst out of her chest. God, she wanted to stay. An overwhelming affection flooded her senses, choking her up and forcing her feelings to well behind her eyes. Lark gripped at her nightshirt, trying to blink away the tears before they became too obvious. She thought heartbreak was supposed to be a shattering of glass as someone tossed her heart aside; maybe it could be your own heart tearing at the seams and spilling out all the love you were foolish enough to hide, too.

"Well, I have to tell you the second half later." At the end of her sentence, her voice trembled, and she covered it up with a shaky laugh. Trouble didn't seem to notice.

"Alright, then what's the first half?"

A beat of silence passed.

Then another.

Lark wasn't normally the type to be at a loss for words. She never felt comfortable unless she had a plan at hand to lie her way out of - or into - a situation. But Trouble made her honest, and the truth didn't seem survivable in that moment. Not if it was to be spoken aloud in a voice that would hurt Trouble the most.

So she stepped forward instead, brought her hands to his face, and pulled him down to her height so she could kiss him.

For a brief, terrifying second, Trouble went entirely rigid. Lark couldn't tell if he was staring at her, bewildered, or if his brow was furrowed as he tried to figure out how he got in that position. It didn't matter, because both were endearing, and neither would have stayed for long. His surprise melted away and his arms wrapped around her back, holding her close against his body. Lark almost sagged in relief.

Beneath her gentle hands, she felt his face gradually warm, certainly a few shades darker than before. In fact, she could feel his warmth all over, radiating from him and almost burning where their skin touched. In this moment, she could have anything she wanted, and she could delude herself into thinking it would last. In this moment, Lark was safe. Loved.

She wasn't ready for Trouble to pull away, yet he did. It was only an inch, and the many questions he undoubtedly had died on his tongue, but she could feel it. The ground was fracturing beneath her, and reality was swallowing her whole. Lark could only think of two things, and their certainty dug into her like claws: she loved him, and she was going to die.

So, even if it was selfish, she pressed her lips against his again, desperate and rough and scared. This kind of emotion, passionate and raw, was more up Trouble's alley. He kept her ferocity, yet held her with the care he'd give glass, like she was to be wrapped up and kept safe forever. Maybe he should've. Or maybe he should have kissed her breathless. It would have been a far kinder fate - but her fate was never meant to be kind.

Lark hoped that he could tell in the way she held his face, in the ease with which she leaned into him. If she was worth protecting, he was worth cherishing, and even if she never said it she hoped he knew. Trouble was always dense, but he had his moments. Now that she realized simply wanting him wasn't enough, had never been enough, there was nothing she could do but hope he was getting it now, and ignore her desire to stay ripping through her soul.

When they parted for a second time, neither of them said anything as they tried to catch their breath. Lark kept her lips parted, knowing that if she closed them it would be too obvious that she was trembling. Trouble didn't realize it,but even through his crimson fluster he was positively giddy. It was almost enough to convince Lark to stay.

But that was dangerous thinking. So she slowly untangled herself from him, her fingertips trailing down his shoulders and to his arms until there was nowhere left untouched. As he sorted his thoughts, Trouble's arms fell slack to his sides, a metal filament falling when the magnet attracting it moved away. Lark bit her tongue.

"So, uh…what does…this mean?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck if only for something to do. Bashfulness wasn’t something Trouble was well acquainted with, yet he couldn’t look Lark in the eyes all the same. 

“That’s the second half,” She answered quietly. “I’ll have to tell you later.”

Trouble narrowed his eyes in the way he did when he knew Lark was keeping something from him. Void of any heat or anger, it was more of a way to make her feel guilty than get her to actually admit anything. But he let it go. This was something they had been dancing around for a long time; a little while longer wouldn’t hurt.

Clearing her throat, Lark reluctantly backed away from Trouble and towards the door, keeping her eyes on him. It was difficult to swallow and even harder to breathe, yet she twisted the handle anyway. The hallway air rushed in, cold enough to send goosebumps down her arm. The moment she left this room, it’d be the beginning of the end.

Just before she turned around completely, Trouble interrupted her. Looking at him over her shoulder, Lark could tell that he was worried about her. “You can stay, if you want. You’ve done it before.”

An arrow of regret shot through her chest. “No thanks. I need some time to calm down.”

Trouble chuckled at that, muttering something small and proud about the effect he seemed to have on her. Then, lifting his head, he nodded once and let Lark take two steps backwards, his gaze undeniably fond. “I’ll collect you tomorrow, then. We can go to breakfast together.”

Lark nodded once, firmly, and put on her best, brightest smile. “I’d like that.”

It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She would like that.

If only she’d be alive to do it.

[bigmeandragonlady]

is it so discomforting to know-

[dragonknightofsummerset]

I don't think I've ever related to a set of responses more than this

[natkidding]

redesigning how i interpret these two, liefred you blurry ass mage. you're lucky, i really like you

[oderu]

trouble holds the record of largest chest in the shepherds. you dont need to factcheck this just look at the guy

[teeth-draws]

He’s trying to be cool about it but he shouldn’t have opened that and you should probably get out of there…

[tacticallyplaced-chaos]

just gonna leave these sketches here!

[samdravvs]

Is this Yuri?? 😳 Shery definitely fainted after this

My MC and Shery from @shepherds-of-haven ❤️

[kris-mage-fics]

More silly text memes for Chase!

And last, but not least, Chase when he catches feelings:

[image IDs in ALT]

Fun fact, the very first thing I did for @shepherds-of-haven was this little post of a couple of text memes that perfectly fit Chase. Since it's exactly a year later I wanted to post some more for him today.

[aylaaescar]

Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am home again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am whole again

Ayla Aescar ( @shepherds-of-haven ) and my own MC/Brightburner, Tysinno Maratis, as drawn by the wonderful and incredibly talented @serahlink. :') OTP of OTPs at the moment, I could talk about them for days if given half a chance and I'm not afraid to do it

if you're looking for an artist to commission, I can't recommend Link enough! he's amazingly talented and a delight to work with, and the money goes to the worthwhile cause of keeping his family afloat 🖤💕🖤

[snowthornes]

SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN | @shepherds-of-haven HEADSHOT ART | @yuuugay

✦ The Godless Brightburner

— Rend the world in winter's wrath.

The magic of Aetherai relies heavily on energy and emotions to increase the intensity of their spells. Without them, spells would be rendered weak or ineffectual, losing their force and impact; what should be great gusts of wind would become gentle puffs of air. - Notes by Thorne Briers, scribbled on a worn out journal.

On the battlefield, Thorne is akin to a howling blizzard.

The smooth and unfazed demeanor he typically affects is nowhere to be seen. His movements are swift, powerful, and brutally efficient: leaping and dodging with a jagged elegance reminiscent of an icicle broken from a frozen cave mouth. There's a flash of silver as he swiftly drags the bowstring all the way back to his cheek; a sliver of a second; then the silent scream of an arrow hurtling through the air, meeting its target with vicious accuracy.

There's a razor glint of claws and he abruptly rolls back, dodging a near-fatal blow. He springs back to his feet and responds with a barrage of howling magical energy — magic that twists into hurricanes of wind and frost, knife-like icicles that rend the flesh and freeze the limbs. The storm responds to his escalating vehemence, singing with approval as it cuts and dances and destroys, obediently following his every command.

Power and emotion flood his veins like water bursting out of a dam. His blood sings with an almost feral glee. Fury and longing, grief and defiance, silver-bright intelligence and dagger-sharp cunning, a mask always hiding, concealing, performing a one-man masquerade of hollowed music and elegant smiles, shattered faith and deadened hope, sunlight thawing a winter's chill, love and loss and laughter and hands reaching out—

Beneath the blood and dust that cling to his face, storm gray eyes blaze with a sharp, glacial, light.

✦ The Mage's Phantasms

— A thousand colors to a name.

Truth be told, I'm not sure how to feel. I came to Haven hoping to find employment and perhaps enter the merchant trade, but ended up landing in the lap of the Shepherds instead. This is my reality now. While I'm not too thrilled about it, I have no choice but to continue down this path I've inexplicably stepped on — though I have no interest in being a hero and sacrificing myself on the front lines. Perhaps I'll transfer to a non-combatant position in the future. I shall fade safely into the Order's background soon enough. Then, I can return to pursuing my previous ambitions. - Entry by Thorne Briers, scribbled in a worn out journal. Written after his inititation to the Shepherds. Miscellaneous trade and business notes are jotted down on the rest of the page. It's an entry that he often views with a look of both irony and nostalgia.

Notes on Shepherd Thorne Briers, ranging from the startlingly mundane to the undeniably vital. The author is unknown.

➸ Thorne stands at 5'11". He typically carries himself with an air of grace and elegance, mannerisms painstakingly absorbed from the aristocrats and merchants he used to watch from the distance as a child. His movements notably become more erratic and excitable when around those he wholeheartedly trusts — something that he had never found until joining the Shepherds. 🌠

➸ He can be overly apathetic to the plights of strangers. He's seen too much, done too much to be easily moved by compassion or emotion. Though he's capable of giving comfort and reassurance when the situation calls for it, he would rather use detached pragmatism to assess a situation rather than give in to 'pointless' emotions such as pity and distress. One could say that he almost recoils from genuinely emotional displays — though he hides it well.

Only those close to him know of this particular aspect of his nature, however. He usually keeps it well-concealed beneath a gleaming veneer of carefully chosen words and expressions, knowing that his true nature might work against him during missions. Whether or not this makes him insincere is up to the judgement of others. 🌠

➸ Avoids making grand promises or heroic declarations. While Thorne is quite adept at manipulating a situation to his favor, there is something quite odd about him: his aversion to making direct promises. Hope can be such a light, fragile thing, and it can be so easy to give; yet when it is promised to someone only to be taken away, it can break them. He can't. He wont. Thorne doesn't trust himself. He doesn't trust himself to be this so-called hero. He will meander, he will laugh, and he will tell you that he'll be back, in his own roundabout way — but he will never ask you to trust that he'll succeed. Not yet, anyway. 🌠

➸ Possesses a vehement aversion to religion itself. Contrary to what one might think, Thorne actually thinks it's very likely that gods do exist in some shape or form. He just has absolutely no interest in worshiping them; one could even say that he despises the thought of it. It's a stark contrast to his childhood, when he would worship and pray to the One-God with his parents. The very mention of faith and religion — especially that of the One-God — can have him inwardly recoiling as he bites back the scathing words threatening to spill from his lips.

Very, very few know about it, however. Only those he implicitly trusts have been allowed to catch glimpses of the cold vitriol that he holds towards the gods — and even they don't know just how deep it runs. (Yes, he didn't take the kithma revelation very well, and still has very mixed feelings about it. Despite that, he had to grudgingly admit that it made more sense than not.) 🌠

➸ He can be unexpectedly honest when it comes to those he holds dear. Though it clearly takes him some visible effort, Thorne won't shy away from telling a friend all the reasons why he holds them in high regard. If he plucks up the nerve, he'll bluntly tell them of how important they are to him — all while wearing the flat expression of a frog about to leap into boiling water. He'll immediately find an excuse to flee after saying his piece, face prickling with rare heat all the while. 🌠

➸ Loves accessorizing and embellishing his clothes! Before joining the Shepherds, Thorne would diligently set aside a part of his earnings to spend on his more fashionable pursuits. He especially liked embroidering delicate patterns and designs on his clothes, a hobby he continued even after joining the Order. He often tests the bounds of the Order's rules by embroidering subtle yet tasteful patterns onto his Shepherd's cloak, much to Blade's consternation. 🌠

➸ It's ridiculously easy to make him laugh when among friends, a fact that has surprised many — including Thorne himself. Even the saddest joke can coax a snort of laughter from him, though he tries to explain it away with something along the lines of, "the pathetic air of it makes it funny, why are you looking at me like that—". The recruits have long grown accustomed to seeing him doubled over with laughter during breakfast over something Chase had said, sometimes choking on his honeyed milk in the process. 🌠

➸ His moral compass has been slowly (and reluctantly) shifting after joining the Shepherds. Unfortunately, the environment Thorne was given at the Shepherds Order made it all too easy to foster compassion. For the first time, he has allies, confidantes, friends — people he can genuinely trust to watch his back. It was slow, and it was gradual, but the veneer of ice and stone he kept around his heart was softening.

The pivotal moment was in Chapter Five, when Thorne had to choose between following the mission or letting Nathe win. While Thorne could bluff that he'd only allowed Nathe to win because he'd figured that Briony would make for a powerful ally, he knew in his heart of hearts that it was a lie. In that moment, as he stared into Nathe's eyes, he'd simply wanted the elf to reunite with his family. 🌠

➸ He's actually incredibly emotional (and dramatic) despite the way he doggedly conducts himself with an apathetic pragmatism. Thorne can be indifferently cold when it comes to matters of compassion. Overly rational, even. But one could say that it was a steel born out of necessity; an iron will carved out of what was once a gentle heart in order to survive alone in a world teetering on the brink of madness.

To love is to be left; it is what he has learned in his years of wandering the world alone. To rely on faith is weakness. To believe in hope is foolishness. What was once laughter and camarederie will eventually bleed into farewells and betrayals.

To love is to be left. Never again. Never again. 🌠

➸ He is afraid. He is afraid of losing everything. The more he comes to care for the Shepherds (his comrades, friends, family, even), the more terrified he becomes of losing them. The more he grows to love them with all the fierceness and softness and everything in his heart, the more he becomes afraid of driving them away. He is no hero. He is no light. He is a charlatan, full of anger and grief and so much hate that he cannot speak into the world. Hope is a word that burns at his touch. When he looks into the mirror, all he can see is a scarred visage of disappointment — a liar masquerading as a hero. 🌠

✦ Afterword

First of all. If you've actually, somehow, managed to reach the end of this monstrously long post and are somehow reading this. Thank you. So much. So very much. Also I might be on the verge of proposing (🥺🥺🥺💍💍💍) Ahead is a little afterword about Thorne and the Godless Brightburner snippet.

Thorne is a heavily flawed character — and an incredibly emotional one at that. Despite how he usually conducts himself — pragmatic, cunning, calculating, and all that jazz — he feels his every emotion like a raging howl of sleet and storm.

He used to be a child who loved the world and everything in it. He was Westwood's beloved ray of sunshine, the mayor's precocious son. It was the... events of his thirteenth birthday and his experiences as a solitary Diminished that hardened him, that turned him into the reverse of what he once was.

A bleeding heart is a weakness: so Thorne closed his heart and turned the wound into a jagged scar. There were far too many people out there who would use a naive, wide-eyed Diminished for their own gain — he learned this very quickly. He rejected his compassion, despised his own emotions, and turned himself into someone so coldly pragmatic that the boy he once was became naught but another painful memory.

It's why he has so much mixed feelings for the Shepherds, especially in the first half of the story. By then, the only one he was concerned about was himself — or so he claimed. And, if he were to be honest, he didn't consider himself very worthy of living. He didn't even know why he fought so hard to survive; why he was willing to go so far. Perhaps it was anger. Perhaps it was defiance. Or perhaps it was atonement: continuing his hazy existence in exchange for the home he had eradicated so long ago.

You could say that he's very similar to the embittered Hunters that Halek often criticizes. Those who were disillusioned by their banishment so subsequently refused to help with the demon problem. It's why doesn't really get along with the more... openly compassionate members of the order — at least not at first. All the "make the world a better place" and "protect the innocent" talk would only ever earn flatly unimpressed looks from him.

Over the course of the game, he starts to soften. Slowly, hesitantly, his view of the world starts to gentle. He becomes more open to helping others, more willing to express his true emotions instead of hiding them under a veneer of charming smiles and calculated words. He's still wary of promises and heroics, but a part of him is gradually entertaining the thought of a future soaked in sunlight rather than in shadow. Of a future where he could be happy.

Thorne's journey is one of change and new beginnings: of learning to trust others as you learn to trust yourself. He is flawed. He is frustrating. Sometimes even I want to throttle him. He shuns emotions while he drowns in them. He will conflict with the Shepherds in the order. And, yes, he has a massive case of Impostor Syndrome when it comes to his status as Hero of Haven. But he will change, and he will grow. And I'm very, very excited to see it. 🫡✨

Another thing! If the "Godless Brightburner" snippet felt familar to you, then you'd be spot on! That section was actually inspired by something from the SHOH alpha demo — it's one of my favorite passages from the game ever. I've put it just below, so beware of MINOR SPOILERS!!

(I'll be honest: this passage made me cry. Like, I was full on sniffling my heart out. I don't know why. I don't know how. But it felt so regretful. Like the hollow echo of something that once was. Vibrant and brilliant and ephemeral and gone.)

When I first read this passage, I was floored. Sniffling aside, it was just... brimming with so much life. "His essence poured into the ring". Lena had done just that. With one passage alone, the very essence of a man long gone had been given shape in strokes of heartbreaking color.

It stuck with me for a very long time — and still has. The world of SHOH has made me cry many, many, times (I will probably ramble about them in the future as well, I apologize in advance 😔) (also yes the Thurl chapter was a DOOZY) but this just... stuck. It's an incredibly beautiful peace of writing, and I never tire of it no matter how many times I reread it.

Therefore, I was inspired to do something similar for Thorne! His essence — what would it feel like? What song would it sing unto the world, if it could?

The Godless Brightburner is supposed to be about showing Thorne's very essence. The Mage's Phantasms, meanwhile, was only supposed to contain little bits and pieces about Thorne. But I think I got a bit carried away there. That section is nowhere near little. 🗿

Aaaand, that's all. Thank you so much for reading this far, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed making it!! The world of SHOH is so breathtakingly crafted, its characters so beautifully alive — I'm glad I got to give Thorne his own special place within its seams.

Thank you very much to Yuki @yuuugay for making Thorne's portrait!! I am very KSDHGJKLSDG about him and everytime I look at him I lose the ability to speech 🥺🥺🥺 You've made him so, so beautiful — thank you! You've made me so incredibly happy!

Lastly, thank you to @shepherds-of-haven for commissioning this template for us: I had a lot of fun wandering through Blest with Thorne! Exploring the world of SHOH was an experience, one with a ton of tears, dismayed yelps, and laughter. Thank you so, so much for sharing it with us. I'm looking forward to seeing how the rest of this journey unfolds together. 🥺💖

Have a very good day, and I hope you all have just as much (if not more) fun as I did on your own playthroughs and template-filling endeavors! Good luck, and thank you again!! 💖🫡💐✨

[bigmeandragonlady]

This Is What You Are

[dragonknightofsummerset]

The new scene has me in a chokehold

Thank you @andengeu for perfectly capturing the momentary shock of Nayeli and Blade being close to each other, and being aware of each other.

[natkidding]

angst doodle kinda? Shepherd of haven Mc and Zori

I had so many ideas but they had fade away somewhere

[oderu]

trouble alder aka pew pew guy aka loml

[idlecolossus]

all ppl who make their shoh mcs riddled with angst🤝🤝🤝