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thatcrazychalupa · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

Fjord had many surnames: Stone, Tusktooth, Swiftblade, Sea demon, and a few more colorful unflattering ones. He was born in the Dwendalian Empire, his first memories being a slightly run down but functional orphanage. Life was hard there, but not unduly cruel. However, he was not allowed to stay long as the Empire began a crusade against any they deemed heathenistic enough not to be welcome in their Empire.

Being half orc in blood, and showing that side visibly in his appearance, Fjord was forced to flee the orphanage and the empire when he was ten years of age. He found refuge on the seas, the captain of the ship "Hellwinds" allowing him to join the crew. For the next ten years he had been a sailor. During that time, the crusade in the Empire ended but the prejudice did not. Fjord soon found his allegiance siding with the Xhorasian Dynasty, especially when the prejudice turned to war with his new found home.

Long, bitter, harsh years followed; the war dealt heavy blows on both sides of the conflict with neither looking to become a victory anytime soon. Fjord led a group of warriors in the last two years that had made a name for themselves both in the Dynasty and the Empire. Somehow they picked up the name Mighty Nine from some one with a strange accent, and it had simply stuck. They were a mixed number of people from both sides of the conflict, all banding together with the common goal of ending the bloodshed.

Fjord, the half-orc warlock, had been elected as leader (generally just in public as the group was close enough to call each other family) and was viewed as Xhorasian in origin. He was still dealing with problems regarding his patron, yet the war had proven distraction enough in recent times. Mollymauk and Yasha were also viewed as Xhorasian in origin. Mollymauk was a Tiefling, vibrantly purple and ostentatious in dress, and a Bloodhunter by trade. Yasha was a fallen Aisimar barbarian, her size, milky skin and black hair enough cause for most any of the Empire to dismiss her.

Caduceus and Jester were considered neutral in the conflict, both from regions uninvolved in the fighting. As a Firbolg, Caduceus was better accepted on the Empire side despite his white pallor and bright pink hair. Meanwhile, Jester as a short blue Tiefling was better accepted by the Dynasty. As the clerics of the group, that had made it easier for them to gain trust of the others when they had initially joined.

Nott was a goblin, hated by both sides but her skills as a Rogue made navigating that minefield of danger possible.

Lastly, their one member from the Empire, Beauregard. A human expositor from the Cobalt Soul, the monk had been an invaluable asset during the last few weeks preceding the peace talks. While the Cobalt Soul was part of the empire and supported it, they had their own agenda that, thankfully, involved an end to the bloodshed.

The group now resided in a keep that was situated close to the main pass that connected the Dynasty and the Empire. As a mix of both sides, they were the front line for assuring peace and keeping any thoughts of invasion far from becoming reality.

Apparently, however, King Dwendal thought their numbers skewed too far in favor of the Dynasty. Thus, the group had gathered in what had been a war room but was now called a conference room instead.Fjord laid the message out on the tabletop, tapping it once as he announced the contents without preamble. It was the easiest way to get the rather chaotic group’s attention. "As a sign of their commitment to the peace, the Empire is giving us one of their Archmages."

There was a sharp outcry of 'what' and 'why' and Fjord held up a hand to still any arguments as he continued. "Her majesty did mention this as a possibility." He reminded them, speaking of the Bright Queen. "Most of us are from the Dynasty, it’s not so strange they want another representative of the Empire."

"But an archmage? Fjord, you have to admit, that is a little suspicious." Nott argued.

"Our group isn’t just a figurehead." Caduceus reminded the goblin. "We guard the pass and the villages around it. We show that both sides can fight together, not just against each other. It makes sense someone with battle capabilities would join our number."

"Better someone who can fight than some political liability we have to look after at all times." Fjord agreed, attention turning to Beau as the monk shook her head and leaned forward to speak.

"Unless things have changed dramatically in the last year since I've been away, mages aren’t well respected in the Empire and they don’t have much political power. There are a couple at the top, in charge of the assembly, that do. But the rest..." Beauregard shrugged.

"That could have easily changed. The last few months of fighting involved a lot of mages on their side." Molly reminded them. "Some of them leading the charge."

"Because they were running out of soldiers, same as us." Nott interjected.

"Exactly." Beau took up again, giving a brief nod of agreement. "Otherwise I doubt King Dwendal would have let them lead in the last few battles like they did."

"Okay, we don’t have to worry about this mage being sent for political reasons then." Fjord commented, trying to corral the discussion to stay on topic. "Much as I would love to trust it's for the continued peace and nothing more, there’s still the possibility he's a spy, here as a strategic way for the Empire to get some advantage before restarting the war."

Their group had worked hard to help bring about this ceasefire, Fjord did not want their hard work undone by one bloodthirsty Empire Archmage.

"You always say the best way to get to know someone is in battle, why don’t we do that?" Jester asked, breaking Fjord from his thoughts.

"That might not be the best idea." Caduceus negated. "The peace is too new and fragile. Even practice combat might be taken the wrong way."

"And accidents do happen. I don’t trust them not to make that claim if someone were hurt or killed during the spar." Nott agreed, also concerned with the possibility of war reigniting. Lack of political power or not, the Empire mages were fierce and ruthless in battle, as Nott has witnessed firsthand more than once.

"There’s been rumours of a pack of dire wolves over near the Gandre Forest. Killing sheep, pets, small children. Anything of a size that gets close." Molly offered. "I'm sure we'll get a request soon, that could be our test run?"

Fjord's gaze drifted over to Nott. The best thing about their group was that, while he was technically the leader, they were all close enough that they all viewed each other as equals. Each person had their own strengths and weakness, and they respected each other for that.

The goblin nodded. "I'll verify if it's true and get a location. Or find something else if it is not."

"Thank you." Fjord said, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"Fjord, don't worry." Yasha spoke up, leaning forward with a concerned expression. "If this mage causes any problems, we can just kill him"

Fjord huffed a short laugh. Yasha's brand of humor (and he hoped it was a joke, though many times only Molly was ever truly sure when she was joking) was always unexpected. "Let's try and avoid that, but thanks."

"I'm sure killing is unnecessary." Molly offered, the Tiefling’s fangs showing through his wide grin. "I'm sure Beauregard would be more than willing to straighten this mage out on who gives the orders here."

Surprisingly to both Fjord and Molly, Beau neither agreed nor laughed, just frowned deeper with an irate grunt.

Fjord sat up again, remembering that the Cobalt Soul and the Cerberus Assembly, where the entirety of the Empire mages were trained, were not on good terms. "Beau, you gonna be okay with this?"

Beau met his gaze and nodded slowly. "Yeah. Personally, I haven’t had much interaction with the Assembly. Bunch of stuck up pricks run the place. So long as we aren’t saddled with one of those assholes, I'll manage. If the point is starting the war again, makes sense they'd pick a freaking mage..." she growled.

Fjord wasn’t entirely convinced of her anger. There was a hint of doubt, a held back judgement for whoever the newest member of the group might be. Fjord took that as a good sign that, hopefully, this wouldn't be too much like throwing gunpowder on a blaze.

He took in a breath as he laid out the final tidbit of information. "They'll be here in one week. Master Trent Ikithon is escorting the Archmage here. The letter doesn't give a name but does mention he had seen battle during the fighting."

"It’s this other guy, not Trent, that's staying, right?" Beau asked.

Fjord nodded confirmation and Beauregard leaned back in her chair with a muttered 'good'. The monk didn’t look too interested in sharing if she had any concerns, so Fjord let her be. There were enough preparations to make without antagonizing the monk.

~~~

Caleb Widogast was not what one would call an imposing figure.

His hair was a dirty red, disheveled most of the time even when he made an attempt at making some order out of its chaos. Perhaps the chaos was within his own mind, thus the reason for his continued failure in such regard. His clothing was deceptively ornate, though if one were a purveyor of such it could easily be recognized as subpar material.

The Cerberus Assembly had wanted to display their wealth and power, yet fine linens were not wasted on war dogs such himself. Mages were to be of use, not to decorate the court. It made little sense to robe the mage in lavish clothing when he was simply to be of use in combat. Of course, some had argued that a gift must be properly adorned, and as such a middle ground had been reached.

Whether this truly had been the events that led to his current delivery to the Mighty Nine, Caleb did not know. He was not privy to the discussion and subsequent decision, nor was he informed of the following discussion of logistics. He could only surmise what had occurred given his current circumstance.

Three days he had been traveling with his Master, Trent Ikithon, with still two more days left in the journey.

He did wonder about those he was being delivered to. He did have some inkling of who they were, the Mighty Nine were famous within the empire. Caleb was unsure if their name was meant to be the common nine or the Zemnian word, something he pondered during the journey, given the number of individuals in the group was only currently seven. Even should they feel the need to include his name among their number, it would not add up.

Whether they would view him as worth such, he was unsure.Most of them were from Xhorhas, so Caleb had little idea what to expect of them. He had no frame of reference for how the Dynasty viewed mages, nor where he would fall on the social ladder. His excursions into Xhorhas had been for battle purposes only and he'd had no permission to explore the culture. The Nine had, apparently, accepted the offer of himself, though Caleb knew this was no accurate measure of their intent.

Whatever his standing with them, he did not presume it would be very high, especially given the human monk, expositor Beauregard, that was a part of the group. To say the Cobalt Soul did not like the Cerberus Assembly, nor the mages it produced, was an understatement. While Caleb had only experienced this prejudice through cold looks and avoidance, he often heard of less subtle actions from Master Ikithon. He had begun to have doubts as to the validity of all of the information Trent imparted to him, yet had no other frame of reference to the truth.

From the information that had come his way regarding Beauregard, the woman was a formidable force. Opinionated and headstrong some had described her. Caleb had little doubt her views would not be hidden, and had likely been spread to the others. He hoped that would not be the case. It was... difficult living and obeying Master Ikithon who's actions and instructions were (so the man oft claimed) for Caleb's own good. He did not look forward to trying to please those who held his very existence against him.

Conjecture did little good and often led his mind down a dark path he would rather not follow. He was to follow the orders of his 'new masters' as Master Ikithon had so in-delicately put it. Trent had not been pleased to have his prized pupil taken from him, though he had been quick to devise a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Above obeying the group, Caleb had a separate set of instructions from his Master. Trent was not a man to lay out all his plans, so currently Caleb knew only that he was to gain the trust of these people, prove his loyalty however possible, and wait.

Easy enough, as he would have done so in any case. Obedience and loyalty were key to survival. Should the group be displeased with him, he would be returned to the Empire, to Trent, and his failure would not go unpunished. The thought made his heartbeat quicken in his chest, Caleb sneaking a quick glance at his master, paranoid that Trent would somehow see the weakness inside of him.

The other man, however, remained seating with his gaze cast outside of the carriage. His gaze was sharp, calculating, and Caleb knew he was not idle during this long trip to the keep. Whatever his Master planned; Caleb was sure to learn his part in it in due time.

Caleb turned his gaze out the small window as well, letting his eyes roam over the open terrain as they moved steadily closer to where he would be staying for the indefinite future.

#critical role #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #angst fanfic #completed #mollymauk x caleb

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

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Please, obligatory "hunger games au" please?

[Technically a Catching Fire AU, since I didn’t actually want to write all the protagonists killing each other, but the concept is the same.]

When the announcement of the Quarter Quell comes, past Hunger Games champions to be reaped all over again, Rachel thinks Oh. Thinks, they were always going to find a way to get rid of me.

She cheated, after all. Broke the Games, ensuring two winners instead of just one. The poison passing between her lips and Marco’s. The defiant dare: that the Capitol could have two survivors, or it could have none. She and Marco sobbed out their love as they clung to each other later that day, and it’s been enough to keep them alive until now. But it was never going to last.

When she tells Marco this, he laughs. “It’s not just us, though. Think about it.” He ticks them off on his fingers as he goes. “Erek sabotaged the Arena itself to win. James was one of the figureheads of the District 6 protest. Ax is too well-liked by too many important people. Even your boy Tobias smuggled all of those Avoxes out of the Capitol — no, don’t try to deny it, it’s not like I don’t know.”

“So it’s not just us people are rallying behind,” Rachel says. “We’re not the only troublemakers.”

Marco winks at her. “You are the rallying point, my dear. I’m just your adorable side piece.”

“If it had to happen again, better that it do so while you’re still young and strong and pretty,” Alloran intones. He’s looking over Ax and Estrid, unamused as always. “Better yet, Aximili, you could’ve kept your mouth shut and we wouldn’t be here at all.”

Ax shrugs. He’s one of dozen surviving male champions from District 4, so it’s just bad luck that he’s got an honorable streak he can’t seem to shake. Ax is pretty sure that if his own name had been called then Alloran would’ve volunteered in his place, which is why he’d volunteered for Alloran.

“We’re both out of practice,” Estrid says. “I’ve been in biotech labs for most of the last thirteen years, and Ax’s been getting fat entertaining the upper crust—”

“Do not speak about things you do not understand,” Alloran says flatly, and Estrid shuts up.

Ax keeps his expression pleasantly neutral. He’s very good at it, by now. “She has a point,” he says. “We’re both past our prime.”

“Not as far past as I am.” Alloran narrows his eyes at Ax, almost certainly still angry about Ax not letting him go die in the Games. Alloran might have been a butcher in the Arena in his own time, but he’s seventy-six years old.

Ax lifts his chin. “Tell us what you would have us do, mentor.”

“Go on, start making friends,” Nora says quietly, looking over the lunch room. “It’s high time you got to work on your strategy. Rachel’s no good at alliances — just look at that kid Karen she helped through half the last games. So it’s all on you.”

Marco makes no move to go join anyone. “We shouldn’t delude ourselves about my chances. Last time, I was up against mostly half-starved kids, and I still would’ve died if Rachel hadn’t carried me through, sometimes literally. Now?” he says. “Twenty-three warriors. Every single one of them a card-carrying baby-killer. My scintillating wit and charm aren’t going to be enough this time.”

“So you have no strategy at all, then.” Nora only says it because she knows it’s not true. She knows his mind; she sponsored him in his own Games, and then they co-sponsored eight other kids. Hell, after what happened to his parents, and hers, each of them is the closest thing the other one has left to family.

“Probably for the best if my strategy doesn’t depend on trusting any of these people,” Marco counters.

“Not even the District 10 girl?”

“What, Cassie? Just because she cries over ‘em after she kills them doesn’t mean she’s not still a killer. I don’t trust her any more than David.”

Nora smiles grimly. “In that case, you’re probably trusting David too much.” David won 10 years back by luring several tributes into deadly traps with promises of or requests for aid, and then ripping apart their bodies even after they were long dead. The first kill he’d made had been the 12-year-old girl from his own district, who’d given him some of her food and then been too weak to resist as he held her face-down in the mud until she’d stopped struggling.

“Maybe I’ll go cower behind one of the Careers, see if that’ll keep me alive,” Marco says. “Big Jake, for one.” Jake Berenson of District 2 is from a long bloodline of Career tributes, one that has turned out more champions per dead child than any other. He’s well-liked, well-fed, and strong enough to kill barehanded.

“Erek King,” Nora suggests. “You know, the District 3 boy? He doesn’t look like much, but he probably won’t turn on you.”

Marco snorts. “He’s only a pacifist until you back him into a corner. Just like the rest of us.”

“Hold the lift!” someone calls, and Cassie lunges forward to punch the door-open button. Both District 12 tributes slide into the elevator with her, panting slightly. They’re no longer on fire, she’s glad to see.

“Thanks,” Rachel says. She and Marco are still holding hands, as always, but up close it looks like Rachel is holding Marco upright by their shared grip.

Marco barely lets the doors close before leaning heavily into Rachel’s arm and kicking off one of his shoes. It clatters loudly across the floor, and Cassie realizes it has an almost eight-inch heel — their stylist’s trick to make Marco taller than Rachel. Marco lowers himself to the floor, standing on his own now, and yanks at the other shoe. It catches on the hem of his robe, and with a hiss of annoyance he rips that off too, revealing that he wears nothing underneath.

Cassie turns away, feeling her face flush.

“What, like you’ve never seen a naked man before?” Rachel asks, laughing. “You were at the opening ceremony, you saw what Ax was — and wasn’t — wearing.”

Yes, and Cassie had felt sick to her stomach watching the way the crowd ogled him, a piece of meat that they couldn’t wait to devour.

“Come now, my love, you know style’s all part of the strategy, for that one especially,” Marco says to Rachel. He’s not wrong: if Ax can play the crowd well enough, the sponsors might even be able to get him another version of that scythe-thing he favors.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not crass, sweetheart.” Rachel grins at him. “Kind of like stripping down in an elevator to try and shock the baby tribute.”

“Doubt I interest her, my darling,” Marco says, “seeing as I’m not a muttation.” He laughs and adds, “not yet, anyway.”

Cassie realizes she still hasn’t said a word. Not about the nudity, not about the taunting reference to her own victory, earned when she nursed an injured muttation back to life and taught it to kill for her. And what’s she supposed to say? One of these two will kill her, likely as not, before the week is out.

The best that Tobias can say about his own interview is that he manages not to let anything show on his face. He does his best to answer the questions — about District 11, about his feather-patterned costume, about what he thinks Crayak has planned for the games ahead — in ways that are unremarkable and inoffensive. He and Melissa both won, eight years apart, with the same strategy: they’re small and lithe and easily underestimated, but they’re also able to flit through the trees well overhead of their fellow tributes without being spotted until it’s too late. Now, the advantage of surprise is gone with the broadcast of his last Games, and the advantage of agility disappeared with the bottom half of his right leg after infection set in. He’s going to die. But he wants to die with dignity, he told Melissa last night, even though he knows that probably won’t be possible.

Rachel and Marco both have it easy during the interview process. All Marco has to do is tell the story of Rachel first trying on her flaming dress, and how beautiful she’d looked to his eyes even while waiting for her hair to catch on fire. The audience is eating it up, laughing and cheering even as many of them sob openly throughout. Rachel’s so stunning in her wedding dress, even as it crumbles to ash around her, that it’s easy to fall in love with her through Marco’s eyes. When she promises to protect what is hers, staring fiercely into the camera with clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, half the Capitol falls in love with Marco all over again.

Cassie’s interview is still the most interesting, in that she gets six words into a protest speech about the treatment of the outer districts before her mic cuts off and a “technical malfunction” shuts down the conversation. Jake’s is exactly what you’d expect from a Career, lots of shrugging and mumbling and letting his bulk speak for itself, while Ax’s causes no less than fourteen rapturous fainting spells as various audience members are overcome with the power of their love for him.

All in all, Tobias is pretty sure he fades into the mass of tributes — Collette in her wheelchair, Loren who smirks under opaque glasses, Taylor whose beauty remains undiminished by her three prosthetic limbs — whom everyone has written off as unlikely to win. It’s probably for the best, Tobias assumes. If it comes down to that, he’ll be just like the rebels and sponsors: fighting tooth and nail to keep Rachel alive.

Rachel buries her face against Marco’s neck, dark hair and blond tangling together. “I think…” she breathes against his skin, too soft for the microphones to detect. “I think maybe we can trust the Ellimist.”

She feels his jaw tighten where they’re pressed together. Marco’s the cynic who dances them away from the worst of the traps; she’s the optimist too stubborn to know when she’s been beat. They make a good team. She owes her life to his inspired decision to declare his love for her on live TV just as much as he owes her for the trick with the berries.

“He’s one of the Gamemakers,” Marco hisses. “Fuck that.”

Rachel shakes her head just a little. “He showed me… I can’t explain it, not here. Just— Do you think you can trust me?”

“Always.” Marco sounds like he means it, because he’s skilled like that. “Always.”

Ax does his best to breathe, in the seconds between their ascent into the Arena and the gong signifying the land mines’ deactivation that will release them from their pressure pads to begin the Games. He’s a warrior, the servant of his district and his family. He has volunteered twice now, once in Arbron’s place, once in Alloran’s. Let it be done.

Across the way, he sees that even as Rachel rises into position she’s already making some busy motion with both hands close to her chest. Ax can’t see clearly what she’s doing, but he sees Tobias’s eyes go wide in alarm.

Tobias frantically shakes his head, but Rachel ignores him. She scans the lines of tributes until she finds her target. When she does, her smile grows vicious. Her right hand flashes out as she throws an object full-force at David’s face.

It’s her belt buckle, Ax realizes. A nearly-useless weapon, small and blunt. But does the job. When it smacks David squarely in the cheek it throws him off balance. Enough that he staggers back two steps — straight off the pressure pad, ten seconds before the gong.

Wha-BOOM!

The concussion of the land mine triggering breezes against Ax’s face nearly twenty yards away. And just like that, the 75th Hunger Games begin.

The instant the gong sounds, Marco is off and running. Headed for Rachel. She whips around when she hears his approach, sliding into a defensive stance, but she relaxes by millimeters when she sees that it’s him.

Without any discussion, she and Marco and Tobias fall into a loose phalanx, facing outward with makeshift weapons in hand. All Marco’s managed to grab so far is a piece of the platform he was on, but improvised weapons have always been his specialty. He’s yanking and twisting sharp edges into place like this is yet another chunk of District 12 fence ripped from its posts, when something whistles over his head.

He ducks, almost too late. Taylor’s knife flies past, embedding itself in the backpack that Rachel holds up to shield herself. Rachel yanks the knife loose and flips it around in her hand. Beside her, Tobias holds a stick like a club, staring around wildly.

Taylor’s second knife never leaves her hand. Instead she dives forward, headed for Marco’s throat —

Shink.

Taylor coughs hot blood onto Marco’s face. The steel that killed her yanks loose from her body as Ax pulls his blade back into his hand.

It’s almost faster than Marco’s eyes can follow. The chain it’s on whips behind him, then snaps outward again. This time the scythe-thing takes a girl’s hand clean off at the wrist. Again Ax snaps it back to himself, coiled and at the ready faster than thought.

Marco sees Rachel go pale as she registers the kusarigama in Ax’s hand. It’s like a chain mace with a bladed head, a machete attached to the end of a bullwhip. Not the kind of thing that one finds at a corner store in Panem. The kind of thing that the Gamemakers must have placed here, after having seen the way that Ax wields one like it’s an extra limb. The kind of thing they must have put down deliberately, if they wanted him to win.

“We have to go!” Tobias shouts.

Marco gestures for him to lead the way. There’s no use sticking around to get slaughtered at the Cornucopia, and especially no use risking Rachel. The three of them take off at a steady run, leaving Ax’s graceful slaughter in their wake.

Jake kills a muttation just as it is sneaking up on Marco and Tobias. This makes no sense, Marco concludes, but there’s no time to question it.

Marco takes a thrown hatchet to the shoulder protecting Rachel, because that’s all he can do. He tells himself that he isn’t hurt when she hisses angrily that there’s no one left to impress so he can just stop with the lover-boy act now.

Ax kills the District 3 tribute who nearly killed Marco, but then refuses to kill Marco even as he’s lying wounded on the ground.

They don’t seem to understand, Marco wants to shout, that he’s not important. Rachel — beautiful Rachel, strong fierce tough Rachel, Rachel who can launch a thousand ships with the power of her bravery — is the important one. Marco’s just the clever little schemer who showed the Capitol who she is, just set dressing in her story.

The Games… don’t work the way they’re supposed to. Six tributes die of smoke inhalation. One drowns. There are four murders, and then no more. The remaining thirteen, and then twelve, and then eleven, keep allying with each other. Crayak’s direct intervention, or maybe the Ellimist’s, whittles their numbers, but the survivors keep drawing in tighter and helping one another. And if everyone is allied, no one is killing.

“So what’s it going to be, then?” Jake asks. He glances around at all of them, but his eyes meet Ax’s and hold there. Ax stares steadily back.

There’s a wary sort of camaraderie there, and Cassie knows its source. In a way, these two are just the same. Each one is his family’s second chance at a champion. They are seconds sons, both of whom watched older brothers volunteer and be shipped off to the Arena. Both of whom watched their brothers’ state-sponsored murder in full technicolor on 20-foot screens. Both of whom volunteered in their turn. Career tributes, yes, but the sort of Careers who lack all delusions of glory or honor.

“Let’s do it.” Rachel speaks first. She’s the first pick in her own family. First of three. And Cassie chills to think of the things that Rachel has already proven willing to do, in order to prevent her little sisters’ entering the Arena.

“You know I’m with you,” Tobias says, smiling sadly at Rachel. She smiles back, brushing the back of her hand over his.

Those two are cousins, if the Capitol propaganda is to be believed, but Cassie wasn’t born yesterday. Marco and Rachel are very good at playing the game behind the game — so good, in fact, that they’re engaged to be married and claim to have a kid on the way — but up close, they’re also very obviously playing, their flirtation only a game to them. It’s Tobias and Rachel who look at each other with real affection, with real desperation. But their story didn’t advance the cause, and so the Capitol took advantage of a passing resemblance — blond hair, long limbs — for its own ends.

“No offense,” Marco says, in a tone that guarantees he’s about to cause offense, “but why would we ever believe you people? Some of us who didn’t grow up on three servings of meat a day bought by past kids’ victories need proof that you Careers aren’t just going to turn on us.”

“You have no reason to trust us,” Jake says. “None of us has any reason to trust any of the others. But I will tell you this much: the Capitol needs us to hate and fear each other, or else this whole sick enterprise cannot continue. You can all do what you want, but I’m going to choose to believe that maybe, just maybe, everyone else here wants to go down defying the Capitol rather than continuing to play puppet for their entertainment.”

Ax plants the end of his kusarigama against the ground, expression hard with determination. “You tell us what to do, and I will follow.”

“Yeah.” Rachel laughs, tossing her head back. “What he said. Let’s start kicking the asses of some people whose asses actually deserve to be kicked for once.”

They’re hiding in District 13. Turns out that’s still a thing. Marco got away from the Gamemakers; Nora did not. Marco surprises himself with how much he misses her, like maybe he did care about her after all. It’s too late now, though. The next time he sees her, she’ll be brainwashed and mind-controlled, if she’s even still alive.

“Hi, there.” Cassie sits down next to Marco at one of the long cafeteria tables. She turns to follow the direction of his gaze.

Rachel’s sitting across the room, leaning close to talk to Tobias. The two of them hold hands across the table, able to be affectionate in front of witnesses for the first time in their lives. Rachel doesn’t seem to realize, caught up in conversation as she is, how easy she is to love. She doesn’t know the effect she has, and maybe that’s part of her power. She wasn’t lying when she said she only volunteered to save Jordan, and she’s not lying now when she promises to save all of Panem.

“For you it’s real, isn’t it?” Cassie asks quietly. “She has no idea, and neither did I at first… but you really are in love with her.”

Marco laughs, tempted to deny it. But what would be the point? “Isn’t everyone?”

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thedragonsden · 4 years

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Broken Glass - Chapter 7

As the final hours of wedding preparation ended, a romantic sun had started to rise, the big day had truly arrived. Emilia, Jessica, and Natalie were all in their bath robes giggling and helping Maria into her wedding gown. They had about an hour before guests started to arrive and roughly forty-five minutes from then until Maria was Mrs. Frank Castle. The four of them were recounting memories long past, toasting to Eric and wishing he were with them, thinking about how life had changed around them, but they always had one another. Their laughs and tears died down when Emilia’s phone buzzed. “That would be our queue to get ready ladies! Let’s get you married Maria.” They all cheered, embracing in one last group hug before each going to their dresses and finishing their make-up. Before Emilia could slip away, Maria grabbed her wrist. “Do you really think I’m ready to get married?” Maria whispered nervously. A soft smile reached Emilia’s lips and she nodded, “Maria, the entire time that I’ve known you, you have always been the one that was prepared for this life. Married to a good man, children that you love like no other mother has, and surrounded by people who love you.” Maria’s eyes softened, the last of her worry dissipating, though she was careful not to let any tears fall and ruin her makeup. She gave Emilia’s hand a soft squeeze, “Thank you Eve. From the beginning, long before we were friends, you were there for me. Supported me, had my back. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.” “Darling you wouldn’t be getting married without me, I introduced you, remember?” Emilia said cheekily. The two of them burst into laughter, “This is the only time I’ll ever say that I’m glad you saw him first.” Emilia rolled her eyes, “He’s not my type, too brooding.” Maria gasped and smacked Emilia’s shoulder, “Eve! Just because you like them pretty.” “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Emilia stuttered. Maria rolled her eyes, “I asked you and Billy to help with wedding preparation, not start planning your own.” Emilia felt her stomach knot but pretended to gag, “Maria, B-Billy Russo, is far from my type.” She nodded, a look of teasing disbelief across her face, “Whatever you say Emilia. Just be careful.” As Maria walked away, Emilia stood there lost in thought for a moment. Did she? There was no way, no one had told Maria about what had happened yesterday at the jewelers, only that she and Bill had gotten drinks afterwards to “celebrate”. Emilia didn’t have time to think about Billy, she needed to get dressed and focus on keeping Maria happy. Thankfully a majority of her morning sickness had subsided, but Emilia had made sure to set aside a few club sodas for her just in case. The groomsmen were all men that Frank served with, so they would be wearing their dress blues, thankfully they went well with the off-white and periwinkle theme that Maria had decided on. The bridesmaid’s dresses were long, off-shoulder and grey with periwinkle ribbon around the waist. They each had on a white necklace with a white and blue bouquet to match, Maria’s was the only one with a splash of yellow in it. While they looked relatively similar, Maria had insisted that as maid of honour Emilia add a dash of lavender. In order to fulfill her wishes, Emilia had asked that instead of a grey dress, the bodice of her dress be made lavender and she wore a grey slip underneath. The colour combination really popped amidst the rest of the neutral setting. Maria had been overjoyed when she’d seen it complete. Natalie and Jessica finished dressing and went to meet with groomsmen they’d be walking the procession with, while Emilia lingered to check on Maria. “Nan should be in any moment. She was saying hello to the Castles.” Emilia smiled. Maria nodded, “This is it.”

“How do you feel?”

“Nervous,” she said bluntly.

“Frank loves you Maria, and you’re about to have a real family. If your child is anything like you, there’s nothing left for you to worry about.” Emilia smiled.

“I love you, Emilia. You’re my sister. Blood or not,” Nan entered the room with a huge grin on her face. Kissing both of Emilia’s cheeks before hugging Maria. She had whispered something to her in Italian that made her giggle then nodded. “I’ll see you soon,” Emilia said before grabbing her bouquet and going to meet Billy. She didn’t have to search far, as the music from the chapel began, he was waiting outside of the procession with a smirk on his face. “Well well, I’m surprised you’re not hung over from the shots we had last night.” “Good to see you too Bill,” Emilia rolled her eyes before taking his arm. Billy chuckled, “You drank me under the table, I just want to know how your head isn’t pounding like mine.” “Women are just better at holding their liquor.” “Or maybe,” Billy insisted, “you’re keeping secrets from me.” Emilia laughed, “I would hope that after yesterdays events you would know that I’m full of surprises and secrets.” “Hey, I saved your life,” he snapped. “To which I’m eternally grateful.” Billy scoffed, “You know because of that I didn’t have time to get a date.” “Poor you,” Emilia said pitifully. Billy crinkled his nose, she couldn’t tell if it was out of anger, spite, or something deeper but it made her laugh. “I was thinking,” he started to say as the doors opened. “Oh boy,” Emilia announced. “Look out everyone Lieutenant Russo is thinking.” Billy chose to ignore her, “Since I didn’t have time to find a date, which technically is your fault.” “Hardly.” “You owe me a dance,” it wasn’t a question. Emilia almost stopped in her tracks, halting the procession. It was only the slight pull from Billy’s arm that kept her from falling. “I beg your pardon,” she whispered rather confused. Billy exhaled, “I couldn’t find a date and I would naturally assume that that means you didn’t have time to either. So, we already have to be here as maid of honour and best man, what say we take it a step further and you save me a dance later?” Emilia didn’t answer right away, she was mechanically smiling and nodding to the familiar faces she saw as they entered the chapel. But before they reached the altar and separated, she looked to Billy. “What I do in my spare time is my business,” She hissed, “I could have had a date planned for weeks and you’ve just been incredibly inconsiderate to them.” “Well, do you?” He asked with a raised brow. She let out a guilty sigh, “Fine, one dance. But you’re buying my drink.” “Done,” he said cheerfully. Just in time for them to split up. There was a moment of silence before everyone stood to face the door that Maria was going to come through. As she and Nan entered everyone stood and Frank’s jaw dropped, Emilia could’ve sworn she’d seen a tear in his eye. She hoped one day to find a love like theirs. It reminded her of her parents. The ceremony went by in a haze as Emilia was trying to process her interaction with Billy in the procession. She felt bad for keeping him from finding a date, not that it was purposeful, but she still had a twinge of guilt. Aside from the moment Billy had given Frank the rings, his eyes were on her the entire time. It had been like the two of them had held a conversation without ever saying a word. Before she knew it, the priest named them man and wife, the reception began, and Frank and Maria were having their first dance. As Paul Weller’s ‘You do something to me’, started to play Frank and Maria had a spotlight on them and close friends and family in the reception hall were cheering every time they spun and shared a kiss. Bellies full of food, hearty laughs echoing from drunken lips and the clinking of silverware exploded after the cake had been cut. Billy stood up and whistled to get everyone’s attention. “Alright everyone, what say we toast to the happy couple huh?” He lifted his glass and winked at Frank who flashed him the bird and rolled his eyes. “Frankie, congratulations. You’re my best friend, my brother, my comrade in arms, and the baddest son of a bitch in the Marine Corps.” A sea of applause and cheers from the brothers in their platoon followed. Billy chuckled, “I remember the first time you brought Maria to our house and introduced us. I honestly never thought you were the type to like Catholic girls, but here you sit.” “Fuck you Bill,” Frank laughed. Maria and Emilia shared a look before rolling their eyes. Billy waved his comment away and continued, “All that aside, I see how happy Maria makes you. I see the light she’s brought to your life, and how you would do anything to keep her and your found family safe. You’re my brother Frankie and that makes you my sister Maria.” The crowd ‘awed’, Maria clutched her chest. “I love you both, you’ve always been there for me and you introduced me to a side of life I never would’ve thought possible where I grew up. Congratulations brother. To Frank and Maria!” “To Frank and Maria,” everyone raised their glasses and drank. Emilia smiled at Maria, taking a swig of her champagne and then stood, “Thank you for your words of affirmation Bill. I think that’s the most eloquent I’ve ever heard you speak.” Everyone laughed, Billy just stuck out his tongue. “Like Billy, I lost my family at an early age,” Emilia said slowly. “Growing up on my own until one day when a girl running late for her morning lecture caused me to be late for a morning rehearsal.” Natalie, Jessica and Maria giggled. “Little did I know that a few short hours later, that same girl would quickly become my best friend, but also my sister.” Tears welled in Maria’s eyes. “Maria, I’ve known you and Nan a long time. From all of our ups and downs as a family, to that summer’s day when Frankie came into our lives. You ever finish learning that song mate?” Frank blushed and waved her away, the crowd chuckled. Emilia took in a deep breath, “You and Frank are two of the most important people in my life and everyone’s life in this room today. We celebrate your love, because in some way, you’ve shown that love to all of us. I have no idea where either of us would be if I hadn’t asked you to join us that night at the bar.” “Or punched that guy in the nose!” Jessica yelled. “Jessica!” Natalie hissed. Everyone laughed once more. “Maria, you and Frank deserve every happiness. I am blessed to bare witness to your story, as are we all. I wish you and Frankie every dream, every beautiful moment that life can offer you both. You are my family and your love, is something we should all hope to find one day.” Maria, Mrs. Castle, and a few other women in the room started tearing up as Emilia raised her glass. “To Frank and Maria!” Everyone shouted. Emilia took her seat and downed her champagne, not knowing why she started to feel tense. As the night went on and people started to leave or dance with their dates, Maria and Frank had slipped off to be alone and talk about the baby. Jessica and Natalie were each in some corner making out with their dates and getting a little too handsy. It was only after the third time he called to her that Emilia registered Billy’s voice. “What?” She asked looking up at him confused. He chuckled and shook his head. “You still owe me a dance,” he repeated. “Oh, right. Sorry.” Emilia stood. Billy held out his hand and led her to the floor. The DJ had changed it to something a little slower and more romantic once they’d stepped onto the floor, but Emilia was far to occupied by her thoughts to notice. As Billy placed his arms around her waist, she jumped slightly. “You’re a bit scattered tonight, what’s the matter?” He asked looking her over. Shaking herself out of it, Emilia shrugged. “I’m fine.” Raising a brow Billy disagreed, “We don’t have to talk about it, but could you at least try to have a little fun?” “You see Bill, you only asked me to dance. If you wanted me to have fun you should’ve put in a request with my assistant yesterday.” “You mean while I was busy saving your life from the mob?” He teased. She shuddered. “I’m sorry, that was inconsiderate. Are you alright?” His tone soft and concerned. She nodded, “They can’t do anything to me now can they?” Billy shook his head and smiled. “Then I’ll be okay, just trying to shake what happened I guess.” “Have you told Maria yet?” Her face went white and she started shaking her head violently, “Absolutely not. I probably won’t tell her until after the baby is born.” “She’s not going to like that,” he admitted. Emilia sighed, “I know, but she’ll have to understand.” The song finished but they didn’t separate. “When did you become such a poet?” Billy asked. “What do you mean?” Emilia asked, her arms still laced behind his neck. He motioned his chin to the head of the table where they saw Frank and Maria return. “Your speech, I didn’t know you were such a poet.” She chuckled, “Oh, that. I was just telling the truth.” “Well, I like it.” He smiled. “No more ideas from you Bill. I can only take so much,” She exhaled exhaustively. Billy laughed, “So you are willing to take things from me.” “Thin ice.” Billy sighed in defeat, “Fine.” As the songs ended and people had said their goodbyes, Billy offered to walk Emilia to her car. After some time in silence he spoke up again. “Thank you, Emilia,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “You know, for tonight. I enjoy your company.” “You know Billy, I hate to admit it, but I had fun. You’re not as lousy a dance partner as I assumed you’d be.” She laughed. Billy clutched his chest in shock, “Hurtful.” “You can call me Eve by the way,” she said blankly. He raised a brow, “Oh yeah?” Emilia nodded, “I guess we’re friends now.” They both laughed, he cupped her hand in his and kissed it. Emilia blushed but couldn’t find the strength to pull her hand away. “Planning this wedding really got to you didn’t it, Eve.” He smirked. “Goodnight Bill,” she hissed. As she got into her car and closed the door, she could still hear the faint sound of his laughter. The last 48 hours had been horrifically eventful. Emilia needed at least twelve to herself to recover and then she remembered that Maria needed her help to plan their going away party. “Fuck!” she cried, hitting the steering wheel. More time with Billy. Great. Her thoughts betrayed her. Maria told her the very same when Frank had proposed. They were a family now not just her and Frank, but Billy also. She was going to be seeing him a lot more and she needed to accept that quickly. As she lost herself in thought once more about the wedding and the week of planning to come, she could still feel the tickle of his beard on the back of her hand. Throwing her keys into the bowl by the door and making her way up to her bedroom, Emilia didn’t realize that she’d been caressing the spot the entire way up the stairs. It was just so neither of you had to be alone tonight. That’s all it was. He’s practically your brother. It was nothing. But the thought that kept her up that night disagreed. Billy wasn’t her brother, not in the slightest. The knot in her stomach growled like a wounded animal, she tossed and turned into an uneasy sleep. Billy’s touch being the last thing on her mind.

#thepunisher #frankcastle #billyrusso #brokenglass #punisheroc

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knivestothroats · 4 years

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Red Blood, Black Heart pt 9

Previous, Masterlist

This was a long one so I split it into two parts.

Mostly fantasy worldbuilding and some mild, consensual spice. Very mild.

Red started spending much of her time off in Kressant. The world felt like home to her, even more than the world she had come from. The world she had left behind. She spent hours lying on her back in one of their expansive fields. Feeling the long grass tickle her skin, the warmth of the sun on her face. Listening to the breeze and the call of critters she had never heard before.

“These are the Free Lands,” June had told her, sitting with Red amongst the wild flowers and damp ground.

“Are there lands that aren’t free?” Red asked.

June tilted her head to the side. “Maybe that’s not the best translation. It’s just free… as opposed to part of a kingdom.”

No one gave Red much information outright, but she was beginning to piece things together. Every conversation was part of a jigsaw puzzle, and the image of the world was starting to take shape.

Igneous spoke the least. Red couldn’t tell if it was personal, or if he just wasn’t much for words. He did seem like the sort of strong silent type. There was a hardness about him, but also a tranquility. He seemed unmovable, almost like there was no need for him to speak.

Frost, on the other hand, spoke the most. He had a careless energy about him. Quick to joke and quick to laugh. Where the others seem shy – or almost warry – around Red, Frost treated her like a casual friend. He let information spill with wanton abandon, and was the first to tell Red about the kingdoms. Namely, because he was part of one.

“Wait, your kingdom is called Frost?” Red asked. “Is that what you meant when you said it was your family name?”

“Well, it’s my family name because we’re the presiding family,” Frost explained.

Red raised her eyebrows. “What, like, you’re royals?”

“Yeah.”

“So, is the kingdom named after you or the other way around?”

“Oh, uh…” Frost blinked at the question. “We coexist.”

Red figured something was lost in translation, but before she could think of how to rephrase the question, Jack continued on.

“It’s just something we do in Frost though. That’s why Darralkian – er, Darrell – doesn’t go by Karrah.”

“Wait, Darrell’s royal too?” Red asked.

“Yeah. He never mentioned?” Frost cocked his head. “Well, he doesn’t get along with his family as much, so he really doesn’t spend much time down there. I think he only joined the Draask so he could do all his princely duties away from home.”

“So… so you’re all royals?” Red asked incredulously.

“Oh, no,” Frost waved her off. “Igneous and June are just representing their own territories in the Free lands.”

“And, the Draask is the four of you, right? And you… it’s… what, exactly?”

Frost smiled slightly and chewed his lower lip. He didn’t answer right away.

“Maybe I’m not supposed to be telling you this.”

Red’s eyebrows shot up and she straightened her back. “What? Why?”

“It’s just…” Frost glanced away, then back. “We’ve never had an outsider be able to travel here before. This world was totally secure from outside threats and now it’s… not.” Frost straightened up as well. His tone changed. “I want to say first that this is by no means meant to be an attack on you or your character. Unfortunately, the fact remains that your presence here is, technically, a breach. We don’t mean to make an enemy of you, but we can only speak for ourselves. You are… your own person. You will make your own choices. It is our job to keep our lands safe. If we were to give you information that could be used against us and our people, and you were to, in fact, use it against us… well, we would be failing our purpose.”

Red said nothing. She just stared at Frost for a moment. His shoulders back, his head held high. She could hear the diplomatic training he was surely brought up with. She could see, now, the prince.

“It’s really not personal,” Frost said, relaxing his tone somewhat. “It’s not that we don’t like you. It’s not even that we don’t trust you, exactly, it’s just that…”

“You have to prepare for every worst case scenario if you want to keep your people safe,” Red cut in. “I understand. That’s what I have to do with my own people.”

Frost nodded, more conscious now of what he should and should not say.

“What does your organization do, exactly?” Frost asked. “Or, what’s your role there?”

“I protect people from extra-dimensional threats,” Red said, almost reciting. “Other people in the organization determine threats and risks ahead of time – some sort of multi-dimensional probability, I guess. I’m not in the department – and then they send me in to protect people from the threat.”

“What if there’s a dimension that has something your organization could use?” Frost asked. “And the people in that world don’t want to give it up?”

“Like what?” Red asked.

“Could be anything,” Frost said airily. “A resource, a weapon…”

Red thought about it. “Well, I know they’re always trying to stay up to date on the best tech. Like, medical, weapons, probably other stuff. I think Barnes just goes and tries to recruit, basically. Isn’t that why he was talking to your four? Giving you some sort of sales pitch about the organization?”

“Yes,” Frost relented. “He wanted to know how we keep our world closed off to travel, but it’s not something that we do. It’s just something that is.”

“I think they’re trying to find a way to fortify safe houses,” Red said, recalling the small talk passed around X-Caliber base lately. “Like, so no hostiles could teleport inside.”

“Hm,” Frost considered this. “Safe houses, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty sure,” Red said. “I’m not in the tech development department.”

“Does Barnes know you’re coming here?” Frost asked.

“Uh…” Red thought back. “Yeah, I think I’ve mentioned. Is it supposed to be a secret?”

“No, just… has he asked you anything? About us, or Kressant in general?”

Red shrugged and shook her head. “No.”

Frost watched Red’s face carefully. His pale icy gaze on her deep brown eyes. He sat back easily again. “You should visit Frost some time. How do you feel about snow?”

Suspicion began to ease off Red the more time she spent in Kressant. Even Igneous relaxed around her, although this didn’t exactly make him chatty.

Each of the dragons lived in their own kingdom or territory – Frost in his kingdom, the ever-snowy taiga kingdom up north. Darrell in the much warmer kingdom of Karrah. Igneous and June lived in two different mountain ranges on opposite sides of the Free Lands. June’s home was full of trees and mist and rivers. Igneous’s was a half-moon of active volcanoes surrounding a black sand beach below. He called the peaks the Teeth.

In addition, they all had a home they shared in the middle of the Free Lands. The Draask, as it turned out, was a sort of political body. Each of them were representatives of their own part of Kessant. The shared manor was in neutral territory, so it was even footing for all of them to come together. Darrell, as Frost had said, spent as much time as possible away from his own kingdom, and so this manor was his primary home. The others split their time. So far, it was the only one of their homes Red had seen.

There’s really nothing around besides fields and woods. Maybe they still don’t want me anywhere populated, Red thought. Maybe no one wants to be the first one to risk taking me to their home.

Their shared manor home was also where they met with other political representatives.

Red wasn’t there when the Draask hosted Lord Benkshire and his son, Gilden. They came from the Golden Isles, a ways off from the southern coast of Kressant, to discuss a deal for Kressant’s protection. If there was ever a conflict, it was good to have dragons on your side.

The whole affair would take at least a couple days. The formalities, the politics, time apart to discuss and think it over, more formalities, more politics. Staff and security from the two kingdoms had been brought in a day ahead to prepare, and Benkshire brought a small gaggle of his own servants.

Darrell adjusted the collar of his formal coat. He disliked having the manor so full. His parents – the king and queen – had always looked down on the servants, and treated them as lesser. Even his sister had followed suit as they grew up, but Darrell never fell into that mindset. He had grown so accustomed to living on his own in the manor that having a staff to prepare his food and serve it to him was setting him on edge. Fate had fumbled the roll, he thought, when he was born into royalty.

He tried to focus on what their guest was saying, but it was really nothing of consequence. A story that was all middle and no ending. Lord Benkshire was a large, brash man who clearly thought he had more to say and more right to say it than anyone else. He waved his hands about as he spoke, a glinting ring on each finger. Both he and his son were dressed in what Darrell presumed was a show of wealth. Heavy jewelry and long, fur-lined robes. It’s true that they had traveled from a tropical climate, but they couldn’t be that cold, right? Darrell wondered idly if it was rude that they were still wearing their robes at the dining table. Not that he would take offense to it, but he wouldn’t put a calculated slight past this man. His eyes drifted to Benkshire’s son, Gilden. Darrell had hardly heard a word from the young man so far. He was shorter than his father, with a more slight frame and golden curls of hair. Perhaps Lord Benkshire’s hair had that tone and shine, once upon a time.

The young man appeared to be smirking. It didn’t seem to be in response to his father’s story, which was still dragging on. Darrell followed his line of sight until it landed on Frost, who was… blushing? Frost ran cold, quite literally. Darrell couldn’t recall ever seeing him so flush in the face.

Darrell and the rest managed to make it through the welcoming meal, and through the political talks. Lord Benkshire’s key bargaining point was economic wealth that he insisted the Golden Isles could provide. In return, the Isles would have Kressant as an ally, namely in terms of military strength.

The meeting dissipated, as the Draask would need to discuss matters amongst themselves. However, there was very little actual discussion before Red appeared in the room.

“Oh!” She said, looking at the four of them. “You guys look fancy. What’s up?”

They explained their situation briefly.

“Is it cool if I’m here right now?” Red asked. She adjusted a backpack that was hanging off of one shoulder. “I have the day off tomorrow and I can’t sleep, so…” she trailed off and resorted to holding up peace signs with both hands.

“It’s not even that late,” Frost said.

“Oh, really? It’s late where I’m from,” Red said, glancing out the window. “I think you guys have longer days here or something.”

“I think it should be fine,” Darrell, answered, looking to his friends for any disagreements. “Talks are over for the day. I mean, we still have to talk, but we can do that tomorrow before the next meeting. I’m honestly sick of this right now.”

Igneous shook his head. “You’re so bad at being a royal.”

“I know, I’m a major disappointment to my parents,” Darrell deadpanned. “Anyway, let’s hang out!”

The five of them did just that, until they started to break off one by one. Frost first, followed by Igneous, and lastly June. Darrell and Red relocated to Darrell’s room to continue talking until Red fell asleep on his bed. After covering her with a blanket, Darrell stayed up reading a book for a while until he grew tired as well. The two of them slept back to back.

When Frost had pulled himself away from the hangout, he had done so with a purpose. He roamed the manor, occasionally asking a passing member of the staff, very casually, if they had seen the lord’s son. Turns out, Gilden was doing the same thing. It didn’t take long for them to find each other, although by now night had fallen. Frost uttered some line about offering to give the young lord a tour of the manor, before leading Gilden to his own bedroom.

He turned around nervously after closing the door behind them. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes met with Gilden’s immediately. The young lord seemed pretty at ease, his lips pulled up at the corners in a sly smile, although he seemed to be waiting for Frost to make the first move.

Frost moved closer. He reached up to Gilden’s face, running his thumb over the tan skin on his cheek. Frost could feel small divots in the surface, and Gilden flinched subtly as Frost’s thumb ran over them. He covered by taking Frost’s hand and guiding it to his own soft lips. Kissing his knuckles, then his palm. Frost moved closer, resting his other hand on Gilden’s hip. He leaned in, and Gilden closed the distance between their lips.

Frost trailed his hand up Gilden’s hip, under the hem of his shirt, running his fingertips over skin.

Gilden caught his wrist, pulling away just slightly.

“Sorry,” Frost said with an apologetic smile. “My hands are always cold. I’ll, uh…” Frost could see the hesitation in Gilden’s face. He knew it wasn’t the cold that had been the issue, but he wanted to provide an easy excuse. “I’ll keep them above the clothes.”

“I just… want to keep my shirt on,” Gilden said.

“Yeah, of course,” Frost assured him. “Do you still want to…”

Gilden answered the unfinished question by pulling Frost back in. He ran his hand down Frost’s side, down to his waist. He began to slide his fingers down the front of Frost’s pants, but his rings caught on the waistband.

They both pulled away, Frost now catching Gilden’s wrist.

“Sorry, my rings…” Gilden tried to laugh it off, but Frost was frowning.

“Hold on, you just said…”

Gilden raised an eyebrow. “That I wanted to keep my shirt on.”

“Yeah, but then you… you were trying to reach down my pants,” Frost said.

Gilden stared at him, clearly not understanding the issue. “Yeah?”

Frost breathed out a small laugh and gently separated himself further. “I don’t think we’re on the same page here.”

Gilden frowned. “I just want to keep my shirt on, is all. You don’t have to–”

“How about we just, um, stick to making out,” Frost said. “Is that okay with you?”

Gilden looked confused, but gave a small nod. “Okay.”

“We can still s-sit down on the bed, though,” Frost said, leading Gilden over by the hand. “I just think that, um… I think… that I’m talking too much.”

He leaned forward and kissed Gilden, and Gilden, setting aside his unease, kissed back in earnest.

[continues here]

#red blood black heart #red alert #whump series #whump ocs #fantasy whump #original #writings

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fernlom · 5 years

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Updated Ego Masterpost

So, you want to know more about the egos eh? Well, let me explain. The Egos are a group of characters that represent me, and my mind.

THE MAIN FOUR

Ausham: my creativity, passions, and talents. A rather dark character. Ausham dresses in a grey and black striped hoodie with a black fur lined hood, deep red eyes, bleach blonde messy hair, three eyebrow piercings, tattered jeans, black combat boots, and a gas mask. He has a wooden bat with red hot metal spikes. Despite his dark and rough exterior, Ausham has a heart for those who have no one to protect them.

Chanter: my emotions, morality, and love. A festive friend. Chanter dresses in a red flannel robe over a black blazer, black and grey striped scarf, black button up shirt, and red tie. He has a black santa hat over his bright green hair, in his hair are ornaments and lights. His skin is light blue, his eyes are filled with snow and he has a large candy cane. Chanter is the kindest of the bunch, a bit of an oddball, but a loveable goof.

Eclecious: my logic, spirituality, and intelligence. A stoic security. Eclecious is dressed in a brown hooded robe covering his entire body. His skin is a light brown, like an old book, and light wording covering his skin. His eyes are a light glowing yellow. he has a sword who’s blade is stylized like a feather, and constantly coated in dripping honey. A very serious type, prone to long winded nihilistic rants.

Parsure: my depression, anxiety, and writers block. The misunderstood one. Partially erased, half of his face is a sketch, parts of his body are erased away. Dressed in a tattered leather jacket with random patches, a large red target is stitched on the back of the jacket. Has control over a magical amount of white-out that he can change, most frequently into a chainsaw. Once thought to be a villain, now just a confused soul.

THE ANTIS

Blake: Neutrality, disinterest, boredom. The Anti-Ausham. Dresses in a full black suit and hood, with black eyes. Has a full roman shield that harnesses and releases electricity. The neutral third party, not much is known.

Cole: rage, mischief, indifference. The Anti-Chanter. Dresses in a dirty brown flannel shirt, mud covered jeans and boots, a dusty, burnt cowboy hat. Eyes a dull gray. First to punch someone in the face.

Dull: randomness, distractions, and focus. The Anti-Eclecious Rayban sunglasses with one red and one blue lense. Black and grey striped beanie, black and grey striped sweatshirt, messy curly hair. He has a large double headed hammer. harmless? Maybe?

Glossy: encouragement, responsibilities, ambition. Anti-Parsure. Dresses in a tight neon green muscle shirt, pink basketball shorts, a backwards neon blue cap, and golden shutter shades over his black eyes with white irises and purple veins. Rides and fights with a razor scooter. A fun loving, uplifting guy who just wants to help.

The Others:

Author: my past, nostalgia, and embarrassment. Back from my origin. A grey furred cat with messy blonde hair, brown rimmed glasses, dressed in a black blazer of a black and white checkered shirt, blue jeans and black converse shoes. Shown great efficiency with hay-hooks. Seen frequently with the Publisher, his cosmic equivalent who looks exactly like Author but made of stars and galaxies and space.

Buddy Lilly: My music tastes, talents, and love. A new one, a fun guy. Dresses in a black suit, with green neon light inlay, glow-in-the dark green sunglasses and a pair of neon green headphones around his neck. Walks around with a glowing cane. Doesn’t say much, but will recommend you a cool song.

Staliel: my guardian angel. even more anxiety than Parsure, this poor dude. Completely made of gold, has a golden tuxedo and bowtie. Wields a unique caduceus, with two roses with thorns instead of snakes.

Aloach: Representing Change, bravery, and curiosity. A typical adventuring type. Dressed in a dirty, slightly torn brown shirt and a faded old grey bomber jacket, black bandanna tied around his neck, a black ushanka hat, and a pair of brown pants with a lot of pockets. He has heterochromatic eyes, one a deep blue, the other a vibrant purple. His hair is constantly a messy brown floof. Mischievous and fun loving, Aloach enjoys traveling and finding new things. Unlike the other egos, Aloach’s chosen weapons are two custom pistols. Each pistol has eight barrels, etched on each barrel is waves, the handle is dark oak wood.

Abadon: Represented abandoned projects . Formerly a man in a tattered gray suit and yellow tie, messy black and silver hair that covered one eye. The remaining eye was blue and had a monocle. Had a thin handlebar mustache and s triangle soul patch and a pair of blue and yellow insect wings. Wielded a sword that the blade could split in two and run a powerful electric charge through.

Fern: yeah, Fern is technically an ego. My online persona, who is not the same as myself. Fern might by evil, not confirmed. Enjoys killing characters and making readers cry. Usually dressed in an old military jacket covered in pins, over a red t-shirt, black jeans, black shoes and a bronze and silver ring with roman initials from 1 to 12.

#ferns egos

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 6 years

Text

Scarf

Day 29 of 31! Almost there! @doctorroseprompts

12xRose, post regeneration smut - Rose finds 4′s scarf in the wardrobe room.

NSFW

@timepetalsprompts for: 11′s bowtie, technically wearing another regeneration’s outfit, 4′s scarf; mentions of vintage fashion

Ficmas Masterlist 2017, Day 29

AO3

Having dropped Clara off at home, the Doctor walked back into the TARDIS with a sigh. Between regenerating and diving right into trouble with the clockwork droids, he was exhausted.

Undoing the bowtie and wondering how he could have ever thought the look deserved the light of day, the Doctor made his way towards his bedroom, stripping as he went. By the time he pushed open the door, he was down to his pants.

He took one step inside only to stop and stare.

“Was wondering where you’d gotten to. Clara wanted to say goodbye,” he told Rose, stalking towards where she lay draped across their bed.

“I was putting the Victorian clothes away, felt us land. Thought you might want a minute alone,” she offered, eyes trailing appreciatively over his bare skin.

“Well, it’s just us now,” he said, and she shivered in delight at the Scottish accent.

“Good.” She sat up on her knees, hands playing with the tie of her robe.

“So, what do you think?” He did a slow spin, praying she’d still want him; he was more than aware that it was quite the departure from the bodies she’d known previously.

“Well, on first viewing, I think I like it,” she teased, crooking her finger at him to draw him closer. “I’ll need to take it for a spin though, do some tests.”

“Well, as long as you’re thorough,” he joked, stepping into her arms. Despite his claims to Clara not ten minutes before, he found his new aversion to hugging did not extend to his wife.

“So, do you know what your new look is going to be?” Rose asked, voice muffled on his shoulder.

“Don’t know – new set of regenerations. Could be anything. There’s plenty of awful outfits in my history.”

“You mean like… this scarf?” Rose asked innocently, drawing back and undoing the dressing gown, letting it fall off her shoulders to reveal she wore his fourth body’s monstrous scarf – and nothing else.

“Yeah.” His mouth suddenly dry, he perused the bare expanse of skin, drinking her in as if for the first time; which in reality it was, for these eyes. “Hang on.” His gaze snapped up to meet hers. “Are you making fun of my scarf?”

“Maybe I am,” she simpered. “Are you going to punish me for it?”

“I think I might,” he said, his offense not entirely faked.

“Sure you’re up to it?”

“I think you’ll find I am,” he told her, grabbing her hand and bringing it to the front of his pants where she could feel him stirring to life.

“I’m very sorry if I offended your scarf,” she said in that same syrupy sweet tone. “How would you like me to make it up to you?”

He looked at her for long moments, taking in how she knelt before him naked but for the scarf strategically hiding the good bits. It was certainly giving him ideas.

“Lie back, near the headboard,” he instructed, crawling onto the mattress as she obeyed. “Excellent. Hold on to it?”

When her hands were firmly wrapped around the slats, he unwound the scarf from her neck before using it to secure her hands.

“Really? You wanna tie me up?” Amusement bled into her tone as she tested the restraints.

“Well, you are being punished,” He considered. “Maybe I should turn you over, give you a few spanks?”

The rush of pheromones flooding the air said she was more than agreeable.

“If you want,” she tried to regulate her tone despite knowing he knew how aroused she was. She took slow, deep breaths that made her chest heave, and he watched the movement like a hawk.

“Maybe later,” he decided, settling cross-legged next to her hips, perpendicular to reach most of her body. “What to do with you now, though,” he wondered, running his fingers through the fringe on one end of the scarf. Like a bolt of lightning inspiration struck, and he grinned wickedly.

“Decided then?” Rose could feel herself getting wetter, which eased her mind. She’d long since promised him she’d love each body he’d have; it was a relief to know that while she did love it because it was him, she also desired it. And she had to admit – he was kinda foxy.

“Aye,” he rumbled, eyes twinkling.

“Shouldn’t I have you tied up? After all, you’re the one with the new body; I can’t wait to explore it.”

“Once I’m done with you,” he promised, before bringing the scarf’s fringe down to tickle the ends across her stomach.

“Ah!” Rose gasped, muscles contracting at the sensation.

The Doctor smirked at her reaction, committing to his plan with relish. He lightly brushed it along her belly, thighs, and arms for countless minutes, until Rose was panting and wriggling beneath him, the smell of her heavy in the air.

“Doctor, please!” She begged, angling her hips towards him.

“Please what, love?” He leaned down to trail kisses everywhere but where she wanted him.

“More; doesn’t matter what. Just, please.”

He hummed as though debating it, before he brought his other hand down to trace around a nipple without touching it. “Like this?”

“Bastard,” she panted, making him laugh.

“Better?” He lightly tugged and squeezed the nipple, making it fully erect before doing the same to the other, all the while teasing her with the scarf.

After a millennia together he could tell when she was becoming overly-frustrated and took pity on her, abandoning the scarf to move that hand down between her thighs to rub at her. He strained against his pants when he felt how wet she was; two fingers slid against her before easing inside.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rose began to chant, riding his hand. The Doctor knew it wouldn’t take her long and played her expertly until she broke, crying out his true name.

“Oh, fuck,” she panted harshly as he worked her down until she was relaxed against the pillows. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he absently licked his fingers clean before pausing to register the flavor against his new taste buds.

He quickly freed her from the scarf, bundling it up and tossing it away before lying beside her.

“How’d you even find that anyway? Or know what it was?” he asked curiously.

Rolling her head towards his voice, she slowly opened her eyes to look at him, pleased when she didn’t flinch at his new face.

“TARDIS had it sitting out. Plus, Sarah Jane’d described it for me once,” she replied, reaching out a hand to lazily stroke his forearm.

“She shouldn’t have done that,” he complained, turning on his side to face her, propping his head on his hand.

“The TARDIS or Sarah?”

The Doctor considered for only a moment before deciding, “Both.”

Rose snorted a laugh, before they fell into companionable silence.

“How are you doing?” He asked eventually.

“All right. I’m going to make you pay though, you can bet on it.”

“No, I meant – with this.” He gestured to his face, and her teasing look fell to a more neutral expression.

“I’m doing okay,” she said truthfully. “You had me worried there; that’s the worst post-regeneration sickness I’ve seen you have.”

“Right, but, what about the body itself? The face?”

She rolled onto her side to face him, one hand moving to trace his features. “It’s different. Not good or bad, just different. I liked your face, and the one before that, and the one before that. But I like this one too.” She shrugged. “You’re the Doctor; the casing doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” he argued softly. “You’re the one who’s got to look at this face much more than I do.”

“I like it,” Rose admitted, blushing. “I like the older look – more distinguished. You don’t look like you’re trying to hide anymore.”

“I don’t have to hide with you.”

“No, you don’t.” She agreed softly, before turning mischievous. “So don’t you think it’s time you lost the pants? You’re starting to make me think it’s not impressive,” she teased, reaching down to snap the elastic against his waist.

“I am impressive!” He protested. “And I thought you’d never ask.” It took some wiggling around, but he managed to pull the boxers down his hips with her help.

Finally, though, he was bare before her, and she moved to sit on his thighs as she inspected him.

“Well?” He demanded when she’d been silent for too long, a neutral expression on her face.

“Yeah, this’ll do I think,” Rose finally muttered, reaching out to trace him with a fingertip, watching as he twitched at the touch.

“Yeah?”

“I mean I need to run a fully battery of tests, but it certainly passes with flying colors so far,” she made a fist, giving a few experimental pumps that made him throw his head back and moan.

“Good,” he panted, quickly getting lost in the pleasure.

Experimenting with speed and the tightness of her fist, Rose evaluated his reactions, trying to find the right combination for this body. Leaning down, she cautiously licked the head of him, relieved that it still tasted basically the same. The touch of her tongue drew a ragged moan from him, encouraging her to ease him fully into her mouth.

As soon as her lips closed around him, he began to mutter. It took a few moments for her to understand, but she blinked in surprise at the steady stream of rough, inventive curses tumbling out of his mouth. Sitting up, she stared at him until he opened his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he grumped, frowning at her.

“You’ve gone extremely native,” she informed him, lips twitching in amusement.

“Oh.” He stared back. “Problem?”

“No, just funny.” Rose shrugged, idly stroking him.

“Any particular reason you’ve not started again?” He asked after a minute, looking pointedly from her mouth to his cock.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered as she leaned over him again. “And your stupid scarf.”

He really was, and he knew it.

#bbatcfic #timepetalscollective #doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #31 Days of Ficmas #12xrose #12th doctor #rose tyler #oohlala #scarf #31 Days of Ficmas 2017

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fountainpenguin · 7 years

Text

Would you believe that despite having spent much of the last year writing two FOP fanfics that majorly play off “Balance of Flour”, I have not actually collected reference screenshots for them and I continue to look up the episode every time I want to fact-check things?

Yeah, that’s weird, so I finally decided to collect some screenshots. Then I wanted to talk about them, so here’s a reference post. The second chapter of Frayed Knots will be posted on the 24th and we’re finally going to get to see Anti-Bryndin in his element, which is the other reason I’m bringing this up now. Hopefully my writing does a good job of revealing these things in-story, but if it doesn’t then at least you have this.

Technically this is all information I’ve previously revealed, I’m just combining it into one post since it’s been a long time since you’ve heard some of this.

First off-

"Balance of Flour” takes place on the 90,000th anniversary of the truce that ended the war between the Fairies and the Anti-Fairies. Here we see Jorgen, presumably Keeper of Da Rules by now, representing the Fairies. Therefore, we can assume that this Anti-Fairy here is of a very high rank if he is representing his people in the Bake Off. This is further evidenced by the fact that he also appears in the flashbacks when Wanda tells Timmy about the war.

I named him Anti-Bryndin Anti-Coppertalon. I kinda picked it randomly but I liked it and the name stuck. He’s pretty cool looking. Got light pants instead of black and a neat belt. Most importantly, he’s got horns. This was annoying to me, because try as I might I couldn’t find any Fairies who have horns.

So, he’s an anti-swanee (or an anti-swan maiden, but “swanee” is the general neutral term I decided to use). That means he’s the same race as this guy-

- whose race we got a better look at in some episodes, such as “Fairy Idol”.

As you can see, no horns. The idea I decided to go with is that the dominant anti-swanee in the area gets to keep his horns exposed. Subordinate anti-swanee have to keep their horns covered with their hats. Cultural traditions.

No, I don’t know how Anti-Bryndin’s outward horns would fit under a hat. And no, it doesn’t make sense that magical creatures with the ability to turn into swans when they put on feathered robes would have horns in the first place. Just work with me here this was the best I could do short of inventing another subspecies and I didn’t want to do that when I was struggling to find a Fairy with horns.

Anti-Bryndin and the other anti-swanee are both half anti-swanee and half anti-fairy, which is why they have crowns when this guy doesn’t. Swanee are a naturally crownless Fairy subspecies and only get crowns through crossbreeding with races who do have them.

Additionally, like most Anti-Fairies, Anti-Bryndin here seems to have red eyes. I changed that in Knots. I mean, why did I invent an Anti-Fairy STD that turns eyes colors other than red and that the noble families are obsessed with if I’m not even going to use it? So he has orange eyes in-story instead of red. We’re just assuming they’re sort of dark orange-red.

Also this is literally the reason why Anti-Cosmo has his green eyes and I can’t go back on that now. It’s also literally the reason why Anti-Bryndin is High Count in the first place. The Anti-Coppertalon bloodline were the first Anti-Fairies to contract the iris virus, as hinted in “That Was Then”. Orange eyes. Go with it.

Here are the screenshots from Wanda’s retelling of the war in “Balance of Flour”. As you can see, we seem to have Anti-Bryndin over on the right, and the Fairies defending the Pink Castle on the left.

If you haven’t noticed, this castle can frequently be seen in the background of Fairy World in other episodes too. Here are “Same Game” and “Power Hour”.

Not to be confused with the Fairy World Capitol building we also saw in the first “Power Hour”, by the way:

It appears to have caught fire at some point during the war:

Those are King Northiae and Prince Eastkal. Technically, they’re king and prince only of the fairy subspecies, not over all the magical creatures who live in Fairy World. Fairy World is managed by elected Fairy Council members.

Here’s King Northiae and Anti-Bryndin agreeing to end the war by calling a truce. Anti-Bryndin doesn’t look too happy.

Also, that’s potentially Jorgen in the background over there.

Anti-Cosmo was indeed alive and presumably fought in this war! Before the annual bake-off was used to settle the disagreement between Fairies and Anti-Fairies, apparently they “tried Tiddlywinks, but it was too painful”.

Instead of Anti-Bryndin representing the Anti-Fairies here, Anti-Cosmo does it. This is kind of interesting since the first bake-off occurred after this Tiddlywinks thing, and Anti-Bryndin was clearly there for that. Therefore, we can assume Anti-Cosmo held a high position at this point, acting as some sort of ambassador for his people.

We can also assume that Cosmo and Wanda were old enough to fight in this war, and you may remember that I determined the rate of Fairy aging in my headcanon based around this detail, thus bringing us to my “Every 11,250 years is the equivalent of one human year” idea. Cosmo and Anti-Cosmo are mentally 26 by the end of the war in my headcanon, and 34 in present day.

Other notes about Anti-Bryndin:

His legal title is High Count. He lives in the Blue Castle, which is the Anti-Fairy version of the Pink Castle. Other noble families live in the Blue Castle too.

We actually met him in the “Mama’s Boy” Prompt over a year ago. Recently he also made his debut in Origin of the Pixies, in “Playing With the Big Kids”. Technically he was also referenced in “The Nymph In the Sand” when H.P. threw that anti-imp kid out of his house and said, “You tell your High Count to send me a real Anti-Fairy next time”. Additionally, Anti-Cosmo mentioned the statue of him that stands in the front hall of the Blue Castle during “Not All the Same”.

Anti-Fairies are very social creatures. Families rarely consist of a mother, father, and their children. Instead, Anti-Fairies usually gather in large colonies. Most are led by a dominant male who is assisted by one subordinate male called the follower drake (follower male in a real bat colony). Because the Blue Castle colony is full of noble traditions and legalities, the High Count’s follower drake is called the First General, and he holds a lot of power in times of war.

As dominant male of the Blue Castle colony, Anti-Bryndin is by default the “creche father”. This means he keeps track of all the pups living at the Castle and is sort of step-father to all of them, including Anti-Cosmo. Anti-Cosmo is also a creche father in present day, but there aren’t as many kids at the Castle as there used to be. But, they do exist and against all odds Foop actually has playmates close to his age. None from the anti-fairy subspecies though, obviously. We’ll be seeing some kids in “This is Halloween”. Also, although the High Count and High Countess are legally equals, creche father is a completely different concept. Anti-Elina isn’t exactly “creche mother”. That’s... not a thing.

Anti-Bryndin was born in the Year of Breath on the Fairy zodiac, which is kind of hilarious since that’s the Year of Communication and he has a strange way of speaking. I don’t know why he speaks like this, but it just felt right somehow. Like. He just. There’s some sort of language barrier or something. Anti-Cosmo was born British. Anti-Bryndin was born speaking some other language, apparently. Possibly a magical language or the native tongue of some other planet. Just imagine an Anti-Fairy born who could speak perfect Yugopotamian or something. The possibilities.

He’s married to the High Countess, Anti-Elina. Their counterparts are not together, but the regular Bryndin did have a son who is a little younger than Anti-Cosmo. That’s how Anti-Bryndin got his son Anti-Phillip... who is kind of Anti-Cosmo’s rival and so of course I named him after Phillip the nickel (even though Phillip is a girl nickel).

Anti-Phillip is therefore Anti-Elina’s stepson. They don’t get along. Also, at some point post-war, Anti-Phillip and Sanderson bump into each other and become friends. Anti-Phillip starts dressing a bit like a pixie after that, and he and Sanderson have a running joke about using elephants to step on stuff.

And... yep. So that’s kind of how that goes. Hopefully these things all make sense when you see them in Frayed Knots, but I decided it might be helpful to write a reference sheet for anyone who is confused about details like why Anti-Bryndin exists, why he’s not Anti-Cosmo’s dad, and why Frayed Knots is about Anti-Cosmo actively rising to power instead of simply inheriting his position.

#Bat cube and associates #Frayed Knots #ridwriting #screenshots #Balance of Flour #Jimmy Timmy Power Hour #Fairly Odd Baby #The bat with the hat #FAIRIES!#Flour king

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deadlydollies13 · 7 years

Text

The Potion Master’s Grace ch. 21

September first wasn’t on a Monday that year, so their End-Of-Summer trip to the beach actually took place on that Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before they went to school on Thursday. They packed Draco’s car with everything they would need for the trip, plus all of their things for the school year. Thank god for shrinking charms, otherwise, they’d probably need a moving truck. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Severus said to Phoebe as they made ready to head to Hogwarts themselves early along with the rest of the staff. “Sev, they’ll be just fine. You scare the boys enough that they won’t do anything out of line and the girls are smart and know better. Plus, I filled their bags with condoms and birth control.” “Phoebe!” “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

They said their goodbyes, and Severus must have said, “Be careful, don’t do anything stupid,” a million times, each time Phoebe rolling her eyes behind him. “Dad, I promise, everything will be all right,” Grace said picking up Merlin and getting in the passenger’s seat. “Just please be smart.” “We will! We’ll see you in a few days, okay?” she said as Draco started the car. “All in one piece,” Luna added. The four teenagers waved off to the two adults; Phoebe smiling wildly and Severus smiling slightly, the look of worry washing over him. Grace turned around in her seat and yelled back, “Love you, dad!” Severus didn’t say anything, but his smile said, “Love you too.” Grace watched over her shoulder until Severus, Phoebe, and the Manor disappeared from view. She turned back around, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes, “He worries too much.” “Because you’re all he has,” her boyfriend said. It was a warm sunny day and he was still wearing that damn leather jacket. Not that Grace was complaining how he looked in it— he looked sexy— but he had to be overheating in it! Of course, Draco was more style-conscious than her and Luna put together. He was always dressing to impress. He even wore aviator sunglasses and had his hair slicked back; not slicked back like how it was when he was younger and used too much product that made his hair frame his face way too much, but at least now it had some volume in the front and a bit of a wave. “He has Phoebe, too.” Draco’s brow Rose above the rim of his lens. “Okay, maybe you’re right.” Merlin had long fallen asleep in Grace’s lap and didn’t seem to mind the four of them singing their hearts out to the music. They did, however, earn a few strange looks by the other cars on the road. They just didn’t appreciate their collective passionate belting.

They arrived at the Malfoy summer estate sometime that evening. It was beautiful, and to Grace’s surprise, modern. The Malfoy Manor was dark and old and somewhat isolated, but this was the complete opposite. Everything was painted in bright, but neutral colors that fit the beach scenery. The first floor had an open layout with large sliding glass doors that led to a huge deck out back, which led directly to the beach. The estate was peaceful, and Grace wasn’t afraid to touch anything. “Are you sure this is your parent’s?” Luna asked, looking around bewilderedly. “Well, really it’s my mother’s. She designed it for a place to escape the manor and live a little,” Draco replied. “She’s got good taste,” Grace said opening the back door and breathing in the sea breeze. They all found their rooms and put their bags down. Grace found that Narcissa chose to follow a coral color palette; mints and light blues, coral pinks and peaches, and white. Additionally, each guest room followed a certain color, and Grace chose the one that was full of sky blues that overlooked the beach. The room next to her’s was Luna’s, which was made of soft pinks. Across the hall was Draco in the master bedroom in a room made up of a sandy beige color with bright accents. Next to him was Rolf in a bright coral pink room, and he was extremely happy about it. When they were finished settling in, they all met downstairs in the living room, where Merlin had made himself quite comfortable on the hardwood floor. “What are we going to do about food?” Rolf asked looking at the kitchen. It was empty save for the full stock of alcohol. They had brought snacks with them, but not enough to be a meal. And Rolf, as tall and lanky as he was, could really eat. “We can go to the grocery store to get stuff to make, but I don’t feel like cooking tonight,” Draco said. “Do you even know how to cook?” Grace crossed her arms. “No.” She nodded, her face saying, “I thought so.” “We could order take-out tonight, though,” Draco suggested. “And Rolf and I will go to the store so we have the stuff to make for the rest of the time.” Immediately, Luna had out a piece of lined paper, writing down what they needed. Grace would say, “Ooh, I could make this one day!” and Luna would write down every ingredient needed. The list grew longer, but the girls knew that if the boys didn’t have a detailed list, they'd be helpless. Rolf had found a stack of take-out menus shoved in the back of the drawer, and they flipped through them until they decided on Chinese. Grace wrote down what everyone wanted, it’d just go in the center for everyone to pick off of anyway, but then realized she’d have to call in order to order the food. She froze, eyes wide, holding her phone. She’d never called to order food herself before; she’d seen her foster parents do it in front of her, she’d seen it everywhere on TV, and it always looked so easy. But she couldn’t help the feeling of dread that washed over her at the thought of doing it herself. Luna, noticing her friend’s silent panic, handed over the shopping list to Draco, sent the boys on their way, and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed Grace’s phone, the number was dialed in, she just had to press Call. Luna read off the order with ease, and Grace felt stupid for being so afraid to do it. Luna hung up and handed Grace her phone, smiling. “I’m sorry. It was stupid,” Grace said looking at the floor. “No it wasn’t,” she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing you feel is stupid. You can’t help your feelings. And being nervous to make a phone call is completely justifiable.” It was something Luna always said to her when Grace was feeling anxious. She had begun doing it their first year when Grace wouldn’t even go into the showers, so Luna told her something along the lines of this and stood outside of the showers and talked to Grace the entire time about simple things like classes. Eventually, Grace didn’t feel anxious about getting a shower with twenty of her other housemates, and she knew that eventually, she’d be able to do something so simple as making a phone call.

Grace and Luna got showers and moved the living room around a bit to throw a bunch of pillows and blankets on the floor to make sitting together easier. Grace sent a quick text to Severus saying, “Got here safe. The house is really nice. I’ll send you lots of pics. Love you!” The boys came back and together they stocked the fridge and pantry, agreeing that whatever they didn’t eat, they’d take with them to Hogwarts. The food came soon after; they paid the delivery boy and took plates and dumped all of the food they ordered on to them for accessible eating. “The TV has Netflix and Hulu on it. Should we put something on?” Draco asked. “Yeah, just put on whatever,” Grace said as she went to the kitchen to refill her drink. When she came back and saw what was playing, she knew she had made a terrible mistake. Her asshole boyfriend put on Insidious. Grace loved the classic slasher films: A Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Child’s Play, etc. But anything that involved possession, the paranormal, or some weird shit that could technically happen because Grace was a believer, especially if it said, “Based on a true story,” at the beginning, freaked Grace the fuck out! She had finished eating just in time for all of the jump scares to come on like a tidal wave that never ended. She spent most of the movie with her face hiding in Draco’s chest. Even though she couldn’t see the screen, she could sense it and would jump and scream every time. Draco would start to laugh, but Luna and Rolf would give him a pointed look, and he’d just rub Grace’s back soothingly until she stopped shaking in time for the next scary scene. Even Merlin hid his face under the blankets! Oh, and Luna, was completely unfazed by the movie. Although, Rolf jumped a bit here and there. Suffice to say, by the end of the movie, Grace was a mess. She laid in her room that night, next to Merlin and Cas fighting over a spot on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. She was too afraid to sleep but also too afraid to stay awake and let her mind play tricks on her. Finally, at a loss, she rummaged through her bag for the sleeping draught her dad gave her and took a swig, immediately feeling her eyes droop. She just wished she had remembered to take a dreamless sleep potion. She woke up at quarter-past-four, screaming and in a cold sweat. It startled her two sleeping companions; Merlin barked and jumped down from the bed, Cas hissed and jumped, now on the side table with his fur raised. Her throat felt extremely dry, so she threw on her robe and made her way to the kitchen, quickly turning on the light. She was opening the fridge when she heard a creak in the floor behind her, and turned, screaming once again. The tall figure that made the noise also let out a surprised yelp as well. When the fear finally cleared from her eyes, she realized it was just Rolf. “Rolf, I’m so sorry, you just scared me,” she let out a sigh of relief. “It’s okay, I should’ve done something to warn you,” of all people, Rolf was the least menacing. She filled a glass with water, nodding to it to offer Rolf one as well, who nodded and grabbed a glass from the cabinet as Grace filled it, “Couldn’t sleep either?” “Your scream actually woke me up.” “Oh, Rolf, I’m so sorry.” “I don’t mind. The sunrise will be soon anyway. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you okay?” Rolf had the kindest face and the biggest heart. He reminded her a lot of Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper and Care for Magical Creatures professor. Grace determined he got a lot of his personality traits from his famous grandfather, Newt Scamander. At least, she made the connection after reading his work and hearing many ramble on about how wonderful Mr. Scamander is, especially Luna, who is probably his #1 fan. “I just… I had a nightmare.” “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” he took a seat at the breakfast table. Grace took a seat across from him and opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it in confusion, “I actually can’t remember a thing.” “Sometimes, that’s how people cope with trauma, and the dream obviously had you shaken up. You’re still trembling,” Rolf reached over and placed a comforting hand on hand on Grace’s, but his fingers grazed her battle-scarred wrist and pulled his hand away, giving her a panicked look. “Rolf-“ she started. “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean to.” “Rolf-“ she tried again. “I just- I didn’t know until recently. I wish I had said more to you in school. I should’ve actually stopped to talk to you, instead, I was always in a rush!” “Rolf Scamander!” She finally caught his full attention, “You are, and always have been, a good friend. It may not seem much to you, but it meant a lot to me. Actually, you hellos were one of the best parts of my day.” She smiled at him, wide and cheerful, letting him know that she was okay. “Just… I know you have Luna and Draco and your dad, but if you ever just wanna talk…” “Thank you, Rolf.”

Grace and Rolf went back to bed for a few hours after watching the sun rise. They all allowed themselves to sleep in the next morning, but Draco was the last one to get up. And the remnants of fear from Grace’s nightmare disappeared in the morning. Draco walked into the kitchen, following the scent of food. Luna was mixing orange juice and from what he could tell, champagne to make mimosas. Rolf was manning the toaster, making sure nothing would get burnt. And Grace, his Grace, was in front of the stove making eggs; she was wearing a tight tank top with baggy pajama shorts and a thin robe. Her long, wild red hair was brushed and tamed into a french braid that went down to her waist and she pushed her black-rimmed glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose. She hadn't noticed him yet, so he walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. She jumped slightly. “Good morning, beautiful,” he mumbled. “G’morning,” she replied with a big smile, turning her head towards him, but he caught her lips in a kiss. She tasted of too-sweet coffee. “Whatcha doing?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck; she even smelled sweet. He never knew someone who looked this good in the morning. Little did he know, Grace looked a wreck when she woke up. Her hair was always knotted and standing up in every direction. She had brushed her hair that morning and spritzed a bit of perfume on, washed her face and brushed her teeth. “Makin’ eggs. How do you want them?” She wasn’t used to someone being so handsy with her. She was actually surprised with herself that she didn’t try to squirm out of his touch immediately. She had never liked being grabbed or touched from behind, a point of vulnerability she couldn’t afford to allow. Sure, she panicked a little at first, but that was because she hadn’t known he was coming. Now, strangely enough, she felt rather safe and comforted in his arms like this; a pure image of domestic bliss. Is this what it’s like to not fear everything? she thought. They ate breakfast out on the deck that overlooked the beach and the sparkling water. Grace and Draco watched with a smirk as Luna and Rolf, sitting across from each other, stole flirty glances and wondered when their friends would finally come out and say they were together. As they were cleaning up and also getting ready for a day on the beach, Severus texted Grace. Both his text tone and call tone were loud and annoying so she’d always know to answer immediately. Severus: How is everything? Grace: It’s fun. We made breakfast and now we’re heading off to the beach? Severus: We? Grace: *I made breakfast. Luna and Rolf helped. Dray was the last to get up. Severus: Wow. And wear sunblock! Grace: I know, I know. How’s Hogwarts? Severus: There’s been a few changes. Grace: Uh oh. Severus: Yes, I’m afraid uh oh. Grace: Shit, now I don’t wanna go! Severus: You’ll be fine. I just wanted to warn you before you come here. Grace: Is it bad? Severus: You’ll see. Grace: Well, I guess having a professor for a dad is to my advantage. Severus: About that. The staff knows, but we need to keep it a secret. Grace: Um, why??? Severus: For your safety. Grace: But Hogwarts is like, the safest place! Severus: The press would be right on it of they found out, though. And then who knows what people would do with the information. Grace: So??? It’s not like it’s illegal. Severus: We’ll talk about it later. We’ve got to go, meeting. Love you. Grace: We? Severus: Yes, Phoebe and I. And shut up! Grace: Okaaayyyy. Love you too!

Grace put on her bikini and a t-shirt as a cover up and went into Luna’s room, showing her her phone. She read them from her spot on the bed as she pulled back her bangs into a tiny poof that sat on top of her head, “What the hell?” “Right?” “What changes? And why wouldn’t he just tell you? Unless he didn’t wanna ruin your trip… And why does he want to keep the adoption secret?” “I don’t know!” Grace shrugged. “Probably has something to do with You Know Who…” Luna mumbled and immediately regret it. “Wait, what?” “Nothing. Your dad’s right, it’s only for your protection, and everyone else’s, but mostly your’s. Now C'mon,” she stood up and took Grace’s hand, “let’s go.” Grace wasn’t satisfied with the answer by any means, but she decided to temporarily brush it off. They walked into the kitchen to find a very proud Draco standing by the cooler. “I made lunch!” he said holding up a sandwich, possibly the simplest sandwich ever. “Aww, did you make them all by yourself?” Grace said in tone she’d use with a small child who at least tried their best at something. “Don’t patronize me. I never had to cook for myself before!” “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you one day,” she patted his back. “Are you wearing one of my shirts?” She looked down at the t-shirt she was wearing and noticed how much bigger it had her than her other shirts, “I was wondering where this came from!” “I don’t even remember leaving my shirt anywhere.” She shrugged, “It’s mine now.” They packed the rest of their lunch: condiments, crisps, drinks, along with tons of sunscreen and beach towels and a wireless speaker Rolf had brought.

The beach was completely empty, and Grace wasn’t surprised that of course, the Malfoys would own property on a private beach. It at least meant no nuisances, but they missed out on people-watching. They set up not too far from the water on the hot, soft sand. The boys were struggling with trying to keep the towels from blowing away in the breeze while Luna and Grace took to bathing themselves in sunscreen. Luna had more sun tolerance and often got a slight tan when she was careful; Grace never had a fighting chance with her fair skin and burnt immediately if she didn’t constantly reapply. She did freckle a lot though. It was Grace’s, “Luna, can you spray my back?” that caught the boys’ attention. First, their eyes caught onto Luna, who was wearing a blinding yellow bikini that right now, washed her out, but once she got some color would contrast perfectly. She was lean and curvy, having puberty finally making her body proportioned to everything else. Her pale blonde hair flew recklessly in the wind, giving her a wild look, and Rolf couldn’t help but gaze at her with a dark blush staining his cheeks. Grace pulled her copper hair off of her back. She wore a navy bikini that made her already pale skin white as paper. Her body was scattered with freckles like stars, and clusters formed where her skin had been in the sun most often. Grace had always been extremely skinny since she was a child, but the combination of dance and figure skating and Quidditch added muscle to her tiny frame. For as much muscle mass as her body could hold, she had toned biceps and triceps, detailed calves and thighs, and a lean stomach. Her waist, in comparison to her hips and bust, was significantly tiny. She still carried a dancer’s body, but for the petite girl, she had been well endowed. Draco had known Grace had been skinny, it wasn’t hard to tell by just one glance at the girl. And he knew she was pretty strong despite her size; he had been body slammed or shoved by her many a time during Quidditch matches. But she always wore clothes that were slightly larger that hid her physique. He didn’t notice he had been staring at her with his mouth slightly open until she nudged him, almost knocking him down. “Dray? You okay?” “Hm? Oh, yeah,” he reached out a poked her stomach; it was hard. She gave him a confused look before doing the same to him. What is this? A poking match? Draco was tall and lean from Quidditch, but never really did any further workouts aside from practice and games. He didn’t binge on junk food very much. It was frowned upon at home and only did so every so often during the school year. He definitely had muscle; you couldn’t be worked hard enough by Quidditch workouts, no matter what team you were on, and not gain more and more muscle mass each year. But Grace was just ridiculous. Honestly, he believed she could break his arm in one swift motion right now and it’d be the coolest thing to experience. “Dray, you’re staring again.” A dark red blush swept across Draco’s cheeks, “Sorry, I just-“ “It’s okay,” she smiled and stood on her tippy-toes to plant a chaste kiss on his lips before running off with Luna to the water. The boys heard them squeal at the sudden chill and watched them slowly ease their way into the water, flinching at each wave as it crashed against them. Finally, the girls counted to three before diving underneath a wave, coming back up with their long hair sticking to their backs. Rolf glanced over to his best friend, who was watching Grace with a lovestruck look. “Your girlfriend could beat you up,” he said with a smirk. Draco snorted, he was probably right, “Your’s could too.” “Without a doubt.” “You didn’t deny the fact that I called Luna your girlfriend, though.” “Shut up, dick.”

The rest of the day was spent mostly on the beach in the sand, venturing into the frigid water periodically. They ate lunch on the beach and fed their scraps to the birds. Draco lied on his towel propped up on his forearms while Grace lied close next to him, almost on top of him, reading her book, which was The Handmaid’s Tale. He could have sworn she was reading a different book the previous day; one she had just started. Every once in a while, in between talking to Rolf, he’d bring his attention to her book and read the page she was on. He’d try to piece the story together in his mind, but she read too quickly to make sense of anything. So, he’d steal her focus and ask her a million questions, much to her annoyance. “So, like, they’re surrogates?” he asked. “Surrogates give consent. These women are forced to do this,” she nuzzled her face into his smooth chest. The sea salt in her hair had styled both her’s and Luna’s hair into bouncy waves that hung down to their waists. “I still don't get what it’s about.” “You can read it when I’m done.” “Can’t you just read it to me?” “No.” He started to groan, but she shushed him, going back to reading her book. His arms started to tire, so he prompted to lay down, Grace following him and settling her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, tracing little circles on her shoulder mindlessly. “Grace, did you put more sunscreen on?” Luna asked. “Mhm.” Next, to them, Rolf and Luna had pretty much officially-but-unofficially came out as a couple. Rolf’s legs were stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed and Luna’s head propped up against his thigh as she flipped through one of her many fashion magazines. Grace quickly snapped a picture and sent it to Severus and Phoebe, who both replied, “Fucking finally.” Merlin ran around the beach, digging up seashells in the sand. He’d venture to the edge of the water, a wave would wash up, and he’d jump and bark like he had just been electrocuted. He did this several times, never learning his lesson from the previous. They stayed on the beach until the breeze got cooler. They packed everything up and walked back to the house, Merlin following behind them with a shell in his mouth. After showers, Grace started on dinner. She really didn’t mind cooking, and it wasn’t like no one was helping, it was just she was the head chef, telling everyone what to do and how to do it. Draco insisted on helping, and Grace soon learned that a simple task like chopping veggies would be difficult since he had no idea how to hold the knife correctly and was probably going to chop his finger off. “You’ll slice right through your thumb if you chop like that. Here, hold it like this,” she said grabbing his hands and repositioning them. She looked up at Draco, whose blush slowly crept up his neck. “It’s not my fault I’ve had House Elves to do everything for me.” “And what are you going to do when you graduate and move out and have to adult?” “Then it’s a good thing I’ll have you with me,” he said nonchalantly and without a beat. Now it was Grace who was blushing. She tried to stammer something out, but she was at a complete lost for words. She kept her gaze on the food in front of her. Draco put down the knife and placed his hands on Grace’s shoulders, turning her so she faced him. “Grace, I love you,” he said quietly so Rolf and Luna wouldn’t hear him in the other room. Now, Grace was really at a lost for words. Her breath caught in her throat, heart pumping against her chest, stomach doing flips. She still hadn’t met Draco’s eyes. It took her a few seconds to absorb everything, but when she looked up, she saw panic flash in Draco’s eyes. “You don’t have to say anything, Grace. I just- well, I wanted you to know. I know you wanna take everything slow and I completely understand, but I can’t go any longer without telling you how much I love you and I know we’ve only been dating for a little over a month, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same-“ Grace blinked, “Of course I love you, you idiot.” It came out without a second thought. And that’s when Grace realized that it meant that she truly felt that way. Draco stopped talking mid-sentence, and the couple just stared at each other for a second. Grace was the first to break the silence, “Dray, if I didn’t love you, do you truly think I’d be here? I mean, I’m not one for casual dating or hooking up or whatever. It’s all or nothing for me.” “God, you make me so damn happy, Grace Audrey,” he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her so their lips could meet. It was deeper than their other kisses. Those were quick and cute. This kiss had so much behind it, so much love and adoration for the other without a care in the world.

After dinner, the two found themselves snuggling in Draco’s room watching stupid YouTube videos on his bed. They were both fully clothed, on top of the blankets, and with the door open, but it was the most intimate they had been so far. “If we were at home, we’d never be able to do this,” Grace said nuzzling closer to him. She had taken another one of his t-shirts, and it was only a matter of time before she raided his clothes for at least one hoodie to steal. “Yeah, with Severus checking on us every five minutes,” he agreed. “He’s just got a lot of the overly protective father thing to catch up on.” “Still, this is really nice,” he gently kissed her temple. They continued watching, clicking on one video and then catching interest on another video on the sidebar until they delved deep into a whole new side or sides of YouTube they had never explored before. It wasn’t long before Grace started to doze off, but every time Draco asked if she was tired, she’d say she was fine. Finally, her breathing had evened out and she was asleep. Having Grace next to him was amazing, and truthfully he didn’t want her to wake up and go back to her room. So, he gently pulled the covers over the two of them and held her close. “Night, Gracie,” he whispered. She didn’t answer, only smiled slightly in her sleep, edging her way even closer to Draco.

#The Potion Masters Grace #Grace McClivert #severus snape #original character #luna lovegood #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x original character #harry potter #harry potter au #modern au

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simplyoriginalcharacters · 7 years

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Jedi Knight Kara Saje

Kara is an OC Jedi Knight, and kind of new. I’m still working through all her layers, but I’m hopeful that I’ve got enough clear that you can point out the rough stuff. Please and thank you.

(Profile and review are under the cut. - D)

Name: Kara Saje (sa-jay) Aliases: Silver Gender: Female Sexual Orientation: Asexual Age: 25 Birthdate: ? Occupation: Jedi Knight/General of the Grand Army of the Republic, 425th Battalion; Search, Rescue, and Retrieval Alignment: Chaotic good Group/Organizational Affiliations: Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), the Jedi Order (the Order), 425th command Family: Jedi Master Nikolas Saje (Father), Bennus Amir (cousin, Heir to the Prime Minister of the Ilan Sector) Best Friends: Knight Asara, Padawan Dorahan, Padawan Katrua Relationship Status: single Significant Other: N/A Other Relationships: Jedi Master Honso (deceased), Captain Zip, Lt Swoop, Lt Screech, Sergeant Blaze, and Knight Squadron: Chip, Fallback, Rusty, Mash, Hopper, Bones, Tiny, and Bounce. Sergeant Foggy, Sergeant Hook, Pilot Jumper, as well as the people of Bucket, Rusty, Home, and Shadow Squadrons. And Padawan Jaren “Hazard” Ros. Height: 5’7” Weight: 130 Build: Slender, athletic Skin Tone: Light brown Hair: Light brown with red highlights, usually cut short and spikey, but when left alone long enough will grow out enough to curl until it’s long enough that the weight pulls it straight. Eyes: Mud brown Identifying Marks: Irregular birthmark on her left wrist, and light saber scars on the back of both hands as well as light saber calluses on her hands. Appearance: Kara is Ilandrian and she looks it. As a race, they tend to be a plain sort of people, not ugly, but not generally considered pretty. (There’s a cultural bias about pretty or charismatic people.) She still has the short Padawan haircut, and is mostly convinced she’ll keep it because it’s easy to work with given how mercurial her hair can be depending on length and weight. Kara is athletic, with a strong upper body from training with a light saber and basic hand to hand combat. While she generally favors Jedi robes in brown and tan, after attaining Knighthood, she was gifted with battle gear in russet and silvery-grey that she is more likely to wear when in the field with her troops.

It’s fair to say that Kara pretty enough to be unforgettable. Nothing about her features are unique one way or the other. Her nose is straight and still unbroken, her mouth is well formed, her eyes are clear and level, even her ears are generic and unremarkable. Unless dressed for battle, her clothes are generic and neutral for a Jedi. While clearly feminine, she doesn’t have a large chest or curvy hips that might attract attention without effort and purposely styled clothing. Personality: Kara is a Jedi Knight, she’s been trained from birth to present a serene countenance to the galaxy in all ways. While she’s skilled at presenting the appearance of serenity, she’s often struggled with being serene. She’s grieving the recent death of her former Jedi Master, for one, and she struggles to be accepting of fools. Sometimes she acts impetuously or impatiently, but she tries hard not to.

Kara likes having friends, she likes teasing them and making bad puns, and although she’s not a prankster, she is familiar with their ways. She’s stubborn, but subtle, well able to think her way around rules without actually violating them and seeing her way to accomplish what SHE wants within the expectations of others.

Motivations: Kara wants to protect people and be a good Jedi. She’s still not sure which one comes first for her, although she sometimes has nightmares about making the wrong choice. Current Goal: To fulfill her mission; search, rescue, and retrieval, with a minimal loss of troops. Life Goal: To be a respected Jedi Master. Motto: “Fake it until you make it” Best Quality: Kara cares about people, even when she doesn’t show it. Worst Quality: Kara’s fear, it makes her hesitant when she needs to be decisive. Fears: Failing her troops, Falling to Darkness, disappointing her fellow Jedi Hobbies: Drawing, jewelry making, bead making Talents: Drawing, languages Skills: lightsaber combat, jewelry making, bead making Abilities: Precog/clairvoyant visions, telekinesis, basic ‘Jedi mind tricks’, empathy Weapons: Lightsaber and blaster. Weaknesses: Empathy in combat, when faced with some sentients, her empathy can cause her to experience her opponent’s mindset and jar her out of a combative mind set.

Fighting Style: Kara prefers to use Form V of the lightsaber forms, usually the Shien discipline which is intended to be used against opponents with blasters. She studied the Djem So, intended to be used against other lightsabers, and Form III, a more defensive style as well, but her experience is more with Shien.

Secret: Kara’s father, Master Nikolas Saje, wasn’t supposed to bring a child to the Temple, his cousin, the current Prime Minister of Ilan, was sterile and needed an heir so Nikolas agreed to step up only for Kara to be a strong force user. Nikolas agreed to a second child while bringing Kara to the Temple. Kara’s ‘cousin’ Bennus is her brother, and if something happened to Bennus and his parents, Kara or a child from her body would be the next Prime Minister of Ilan. Her name is a play on the secret, Kara Saje could be viewed as Kaje Rasa, which basically means Secret Silver. Kaje being the word used for a precious metal similar to silver that is used for Royal jewelry on Ilan and Rasa meaning secret. Influential Memory: Being nine, and having a vision that prompted her to talk to her father for the first time and learning her secret origins. Role Model: Master Honso, her Jedi Master Crush: None Source of Embarrassment: Losing her temper around others and acting on it. Source of Pride: Attaining her knighthood.

Notes: The official story about Kara’s history is that her dad had an affair during a cease fire negotiation, protected the woman during the civil war that followed when she turned up pregnant, and brought the Force sensitive child to the Temple when peace was restored. If Nikolas Saje told anyone the truth of Kara’s birth, Kara doesn’t know about it. She rarely interacts with her father anyways, as part of their mutual show of non-attachment.

Growing up in the crèche, Kara got herself in trouble simply because she drew visions and then followed them. She’s never been afraid to act on her visions, no matter the consequences, because if the Force didn’t want her to act, she wouldn’t see those visions. No matter what certain Masters have had to say about the validity of her talent. She had few friends in the crèche, both because of her own struggle with social skills and her unique status as a Jedi’s child. She did eventually make friends with other Initiatives from her clan, a Wookie named Katrua who was the first being to believe her about her drawings, and a Kiffar named Asara and a human named Dorahan who helped her deal with the bullies in the crèche at different times.

Asara was the first of the quartet to reach knighthood shortly before the Battle of Geonosis. She is the group’s leader in a lot of ways, the oldest and boldest of the group. Asara has frequently been called out for her impetuous nature and temper, although she has a knack for finding lost things that has seen her on a number of kidnappings both at the end of her Padawan period and before the Battle of Geonosis reworked the structure of the Order.

Dorahan is the only male of the group and the best diplomat of the group. He and his master are on semi-permanent duty in the Senate, even with the war on. Dorahan is good at social interactions on an impersonal basis, such as a Senate gala, but is otherwise the quietest member of the quartet. If any of them can be called the voice of reason, it’s Dorahan.

Katrua is the researcher of the group, while a noted lightsaber duelist and generally good at combat, she prefers the Archives if given a choice. Katrua almost went to the AgriCorps as an Initiate, but ended up in a debate with the Master Archivist, Jocasta Nu, on the interpretation of some documents recovered from Osussus, which impressed one of the other Jedi Archivists enough to take the Wookie as his Padawan. The pair have a reputation for finding trouble in storage closets that means that Katrua often wins the ‘craziest mission’ free drink when they have time together.

Kara’s master specialized in search and rescue operations with the occasional retrieval, and Kara learned a lot from him on that front. Honso never fully understood how her visions worked, but he encouraged her to share them and even act on them. However, even Honso failed to listen at a critical moment. They were fighting a defensive action after the Battle of Geonosis and Honso went to back up some of their troops some distance away from the other location, and Kara asked him to take a squad with him, and he refused and died when some of the Separatist droids ambushed him.

Kara underwent her Trials and was Knighted after she was pulled off the planet and sent back to Coruscant. After her Trials, Kara specifically proposed the idea of a Search, Rescue, and Retrieval unit, mixing some of the Judicial people they had with a smaller compliment of Troopers to work to retrieve Jedi and Troopers from bad situations and to retrieve relics from the Jedi enclaves located on contested worlds. As the idea was found to have merit and she was given a ship, and a company of Troopers to start with. Her first order onboard the ship created what would come to be known as Knight Squadron, a squad of Troopers who would be her constant companions on missions.

As far as the Retrieval, her captain is a Bothan known as Sei’lar who works very well with Kara, bringing his knowledge of ships, ship warfare, and his ship’s particular capabilities.

The 425th Battalion currently consists of a single “company” (technically half a company) consisting of five squads of ten, three officers, and a single squad of pilots who handle shuttles and fighters.

Lieutenant Swoop is in charge of Hawkbat Squadron, or the pilots. He’s not as close with Kara as Seeker Company in general, but he respects her and they can work well together.

Captain Zip is the Trooper in charge of Seeker Company and he is Kara’s partner. They’re still working out the kinks, but Kara trusts Zip to handle his half of their missions since she usually takes her squad to carry out part and leaves the other half/distraction to Zip. (Such as she tracking down a Jedi in need and leaving Zip to collect the troopers after their escape pods crashed in different areas.)

Lieutenant Screech heads up the so-called Home Squad, which is in charge of securing base camp or the primary landing zone and is their primary medic. He is frequently exasperated and confounded by their Jedi General’s habits and occasional lack of self-care. They have a professional relationship based on the expectation that the other will do their job properly.

Sergeant Blaze leads Knight Squadron, and he tends to stick strongly to military discipline and protocol, especially around other squads. He’s very grounded in the here-now, a useful compliment to Kara’s occasional forays into the Force.

Chip is Kara’s closest companion. They met on the ship before their mission and he expressed doubt about her skills and she proved him wrong, then asked him if he could take orders from her even with the chip on his shoulder. He promptly adopted Chip as his name and adopted Kara as another of his siblings. He trusted her enough to let her use the Force to lift him a hundred feet in the air during a fire fight, and then volunteered the second time. They are developing a strong sibling relationship.

Bones is the Knight Squad medic, and after their first mission, he’s contemplating the value of hyposprays and painkillers. (After she, you know, punched a robot off a cliff, dislocated her wrist, and refused painkillers on account that they make her sleepy.) He likes Kara, he just doesn’t understand her.

Fallback is the squad’s big brother type. He likes taking care of people and he’s decided to adopt Kara. Kara’s not entirely sure she wants to be adopted yet, but she’s willing to try it out.

Kara doesn’t have a strong individual relationship with the rest of her squad, given they’ve known each other all of a week and a half and a single battle field, but the possibilities are there. Of course, the first time she tells them ‘I’ll be right behind you,’ and finds herself thrown over a shoulder and hauled out of there, she kind of gets it. They’re adopting her whether she wants it or not. (And she kind of really wants it when she forgets about that No Attachment rule.)

Among the Jedi, she interacts the most with Mace Windu, who she admires greatly and is completely terrified of. She has fond memories of her Clan Master as a youngling, and some of her teachers liked her well enough, but most of her Jedi relationships are professional and polite. She doesn’t even have a close bond to her father, they’ve met maybe five times, and while he’s given her a number of useful gifts over the years, they don’t talk. Kara is at times content with and confused by her father. On the one hand, their face to face meetings have always been model examples of the no attachment clause, but on the other he bought her the special datapad for her drawing, and gave her the armor she uses.

The last real relationship that Kara is/will develop is with her first Padawan, Jaren “Havoc” Ros, an orphaned Padawan who is “command shy” because it is and is not his fault that his Master died. (Remember kids, friendly fire isn’t). While they are close in age, Kara takes on her role seriously, she’s teacher more than friend, especially in the beginning. She even figures out a way to keep him in the field and ease him into the idea of commanding troopers again over the course of the first year and a half of the war. (Besides long distance work with Jedi Mind Healers, that is.)

Hi! This is D. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this review..

It's clear that you've put a ton of thought into Kara given the sheer amount of detail in her profile. I think there's a great basis for a character here, though some of the included aspects struck me as a little strange.

Starting from the top down, I'm a little confused by her alias. Namely I'm not sure who would know about it beyond Kara's father, and as established in the profile they barely speak with one another. Is it a secret callsign they use to discuss things privately? Or is it more of a petname? I'm just not sure what purpose it serves, beyond being used as a method of allowing Kara's name to switch around and give away the secret of her birth. As fun as that is to do as an author, it doesn't really seem like a choice someone who actually wants to keep that a secret would make. As a reference to her Jedi armor or as something the clone troopers call Kara (out of acceptance or as a hidden callsign) it seems like it'd fit better in addition to having more presence in the story.

The mention of the 'Birthdate' being a question mark doesn't really add anything. The fact that Kara didn't know about her parents and the circumstances surrounding her birth is addressed in much better detail later in the profile. Unless a character's specific birthdate is important, that section really isn't that necessary (and without any actual information to present, it just takes up space).

Something I'd like to highlight as well done is Kara's Occupation. It emphasized what she is, who she works with/for, and what her specialty is in very succinct fashion. Each aspect is reflective of other parts of the profile, be it Kara's Jedi upbringing, her service to the Republic, her relationship with her specific group of clones, and her forte with the Force. All too often do profiles with military bents completely fail to recognize that military units and personnel usually have specializations. Just mentioning that Kara is a Jedi Knight and a General of the Republic would have been decent, but emphasizing that her role is for 'Search, Rescue, and Retrieval' gives her a unique position that's specific to her character.

Moving on, I'm not sure what purpose a traditional tabletop Alignment serves for a Star Wars character. Especially classifying a Jedi as Chaotic. In the context of Star Wars, the only two defined alignments are the Light Side and the Dark Side – Chaos and Law aren't cosmic principals like they are in tabletop games such as Dungeons and Dragons. Beyond that, by their nature Jedi aren't chaotic individuals. They're basically space paladins when you come right down to it, and even clever paladins with creative interpretations of the rules will still follow them (or, of course, they cease to be paladins). Which is something reflected on in Kara's Personality section. That Kara will 'think her way around rules without actually violating them' as opposed to outright ignoring them and disregarding what others expect of her paints her at best as Neutral Good. Still, I'd suggest doing away with the Dungeons and Dragons Alignment and just stating Kara's status on the Light or Dark Side of the Force. Let her Personality section speak for her opinions regarding conformity, individuality, and social mores – it does a much more characterizing job of that anyway.

I've got no issue with the list of her Relationships or her Physical Traits, though I did get hung up on her Appearance section. I'm not told what an 'Ilandrian' is (and I couldn't find any actual world called Ilan when I attempted to look it up), so stating that she definitely looks like a member of her race doesn't tell me much of anything. The biggest information I got from her Appearance section is that Kara is plain and basically human-like. However, Star Wars has plenty of human-like aliens with minor differences (horns, biological markings, chromatic skin color, weird eyes, etc.) in addition to worlds that refer to humans by different names, so I'm left unsure if she's human or not. Clarifying Kara's species and specifically what makes her Ilandrian would be a solid addition (perhaps include a 'Race' section with the prior 'Height/Weight/Etc.' traits?). Also, given the focus on her generic appearance, I'm pretty certain the remark that Kara is 'unforgettable' ought to have been 'forgettable' instead. The mentions about her physique, preferred clothing, and hairstyle were all very good additions though, that make a lot of sense for her character (both as a Jedi and given Kara's Personality).

Speaking of Kara's Personality section, while concise I do like what was included. A lot of it reinforces the fact that she's having to deal with all of these things (being a Jedi Knight, detachment, commanding a military force and the rules/regulations therein) at just 25 years old. It makes sense that she knows how to act like a Jedi given that she's been surrounded by them her entire life, but she's also still young and still wants connections with others (desiring friends, occasionally acting rashly, etc.). I also really like the mention that she's yet to get over the death of her Master. Not only does it help reflect her empathy but given what's said about her relationship with Honso it's almost like the relationship she never had with her actual father. There's that much more depth there, beyond Kara just not having come fully into her own as a Jedi yet. There's a lot of humanizing aspects here that I think work really well.

I have no major comments about the rest of Kara's Personality Traits – they all seem consistent with her established Personality and capabilities as a Jedi. Her Motto struck me as a little odd at first, though it is hugely reflective of Kara being 'outwardly serene, inwardly struggling.' In retrospect it's a really relatable motto for a twenty-five year old suddenly thrown under mountains of responsibility. For all the fantastical elements surrounding her, Kara's Personality definitely feels realistic – she's only got so much of a handle on life (and herself) so of course there's a level of, well, faking it until she makes it. Also, I liked the clarification on the specifics for her fighting styles. Star Wars has a ton of dense lore and the different lightsaber styles are no exception, so emphasizing where exactly her strengths are make Kara's capabilities that much more clear.

Regarding Kara's Secret, I don't have any suggestions for changing anything though I would like to know more about how it's affected her. Given the code of no attachment that Jedi live under, Kara is essentially a physical embodiment of the code not being perfect. She's still able to do good things despite her entire existence stemming from someone breaking away from Jedi teachings. How does that reflect of her point of view regarding the Order? Is it part of why she's willing to bend the rules, but won't break them? Does she actually believe in all the teachings of the Order, or does she have some disagreements? Beyond that, while the concept of her secretly being the heir apparent to Ilan is interesting, given the context when this story takes place (the Clone Wars) and the way that context ends (Order 66, the destruction or the Jedi, etc.) I'm a little concerned as to how much narrative impact that aspect of Kara's secret will have. It's understandable that it's mostly absent from her profile except when it's explicitly highlighter (it's a secret after all) but I'm not sure where exactly Kara's character arc will go with it. Especially considering the overall ending in the Star Wars canon proper. The angle of Kara being the secret daughter of a prior Jedi Master is interesting (particularly given her with Jaren and prior relationship with Honso), but I'm not sure what the connection to the royal family of Ilan adds. Does she end up defending Ilan during the war? Is she assigned to rescue Bennus, and things become more complicated from there? This is a key aspect to her character and given it's status as a secret it's got to come back around sooner or later (otherwise what's the point?). Emphasizing a bit more on how Kara's connections to Ilan will come into play would help cement things that much more.

Lastly, Kara's Notes section could be broken up into separate 'Backstory' and 'Relationships' sections. Covering the details surrounding Kara's birth, her childhood, training, and Trials would make for a solid Backstory section (leaving Kara precisely where she's at within the start of the story), while all of the relationship specifics can be kept in their own sections. There's a lot of characterizing touches in these sections, but with all of them listed under Notes it kind of lumps together a bit. I don't think you should change any of the presented information, just reformat it a bit and polish up bits that need it. Even the bit about Kara's Padawan Jaren as a sort of 'ongoing' development works well, as much as I usually don't care for 'Have yet to happen' relationships. Breaking the relationships up between Jedi Order and Clone Trooper sections would help give it a bit more organization.

All in all, there's a lot of great characterization in Kara's profile. Her personality is consistent, her concept is interesting, and she's got a lot of relationships that each have their own details and connections. There were a few places where I got hung up, but nothing nearly dire enough to throw off the pace of the profile itself (or throw me out of the profile entirely). Kara's profile is already really solid, just retouch a bit and she'll be good to go!

I hope this helps!

-D

#Development Help #General Help #submission #guardian-of-hope

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neylethasteri · 5 years

Text

Family

Winter’s Veil.

A time generally spent with family to enjoy company and good cheer. Neyleth sighed and knocked on the embossed door to her parents’ home. On either side was a warm, mana-powered lamp shedding orange light over her face.

Her mother opened the door and looked her over, mouth opening in surprise. “My goodness, Neyleth is that you? My, you’ve changed!” Marinelle Asteri didn’t resemble her daughter very much, apart from the similar long white hair. Hers was tied in a bun, an artful curl hanging to brush the top of her cream dress. It hugged her figure like a sheath, falling freely from the knees and touching the tops of her strappy shoes. Every stitch was immaculate – as expected of her skilled tailor husband.

The Shalassian words sounded strange to Neyleth, having spent so much time immersed in Orcish within the Horde lands. Yes, because you haven’t seen me in some time and I do roam around a lot, she thought in response. Aloud, she simply said, “Indeed. It’s good to see you.”

She took a moment to wish Nimsa was here; the manasaber had chosen to remain in the apartment Neyleth was renting while in Suramar. Head high, Neyleth gave her greetings and walked inside. She would make no apologies for herself tonight.

To that end, she wore her usual adventuring outfit; close fitting black and purple pants and bustier, the Zandalari patterns engraved striking against her dark skin. Her intricate tattoos were in clear view along her arms and face, a map of delicate white lines. Neyleth had chosen to wear her hair down, the interspersed white braids hanging over her high gold collar and shoulderplate. About the only thing she’d done was polish her well-worn, knee-high boots.

Her mother led her through the house and past the kitchen, where a myriad of delicious scents were wafting through. The dining room was less appealing, being full of family members as it was.

Propping her bow and quiver on the wall out of the way, Neyleth studied the room.

At the head of the solid, dark wood table was her grandfather. Mordenaux Asteri had lived through twelve thousands years of upheaval, and it showed on his weathered face. He at least was glad to see her, his lined face breaking into a smile. “Neyleth my girl, welcome home.” He inclined his head. One hand rested on the head of his cane, propped against the chair as it was, the other rested on the table. The high collar of his white sat under his chin; only that and the sleeves visible under his favourite purple vest.

“Well met, Grandfather.” Neyleth grinned at him, genuinely glad for his presence. The dinner might be less miserable with someone to talk to.

Perking her ears up at their entrance, her elder sister Keldryssa looked over and waved. She was sitting next to Mordrenaux, her short hair curling around her ears and bobbing with her movements, and setting the shining gems dangling from her ears dancing. “Neyleth, hello!” Her dress was simple; a sky blue cut into a deep neckline and contrasting with her thick eyeliner.

It was a more dramatic fashion than Neyleth had seen her in before. Her enchanting business must be doing well, Neyleth thought to herself, giving a crooked smile back. Keldryssa was responsible for Neyleth’s enchanted bag; the weave held the ability to expand far beyond its normal constraints, and thus allowing Neyleth to carry more than she rightfully should. The specifics were beyond her, but it somehow also neutralised the weight. I should give her something nice in return. She added it to her to-do list.

Alternys and Fleuredell gave her matching sneers when she walked in. The twins were genderfluid; taking pretending to be each other to the point they were interchangeable. They were both wearing rich purple robes with silver edges, cut sharp to emphasis their slight figures and remarkable cheekbones.

Neyleth rolled her eyes at them and continued to look around the table. Some things never change.

Next to the twins was their mother, Surara. Her hair was dyed a dark silver, pulled back in a high ponytail. She was nodding along to her husband’s story, her expression pinched, her long, painted nails picking at the necklace dangling down her cleavage.

Nierre Asteri however was enthusiastically gesturing in emphasis to his tale, his large paunch barely restrained by his white dress shirt. He was one for good food and cheer, and these family celebrations were a chance for him to show off his successes in life.

Neyleth didn’t bother saying anything to him, since she couldn’t get a word in anyway.

“Neyleth,” her father’s gruff voice interrupted. “You’re here.”

She turned around to find him standing behind her, his eyes crinkled. “Of course,” she said in response. “I said I would be.” I didn’t want to be.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” That was all he said, pulling her forward into a hug. Teldan Asteri was a man of few words, preferring to keep his own council. He smiled and nodded. “Best go help your mother,” he excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before they returned together, carrying the last of the dishes to lay on the already full table. Marinelle placed one last container of sauce and went to her empty seat. “It’s my pleasure to welcome the family home. Our year might have been full of experiences, so now is the time to share. Take a plate, fill it up, and let’s celebrate ourselves.”

“Sounds good to me!” Nierre cheered, loading his plate immediately. He never needed telling twice.

The chatter lowered to a minimum, the entire family quickly taking their share of food and enjoying the delicious cooking of Marinelle and Teldan.

At least the food is good, Neyleth thought to herself, savouring the tastes. She’d grown used to so many other flavours that it was new and exciting again.

Conversation resumed once they’d started eating. It wasn’t long before Marinelle brushed a crumb off her dress and smiled at Neyleth. “Since it’s been a while, why not tell us of your adventures, Neyleth?”

Neyleth bit back a sigh and finished her mouthful. “It might interest you to know I’ve got paid employment at least.” Her lack of ‘suitable’ jobs had been a sticking point. “Working with Numinous. Conservation, and the like.” She didn’t go into detail, figuring none of them cared.

“Oh, but what about the conflict going on?” Keldryssa blinked, pointing a fork at Neyleth. “You aren’t in danger, are you?”

“Sometimes,” Neyleth answered neutrally. She wasn’t going to tell them of her injuries on the job.

“Why put yourself in harm’s way?” This was from Surara, her aunt. Her smoky eyes were narrowed, full lips pursed. Like the twins, she’d never shown any interest in Neyleth’s time.

Oh joy. Jabbing a clawed finger at her, Neyleth huffed. “It’s good work. And far less boring than sitting around Suramar. There’s so much to see in the world; I don’t understand why you lot are content to sit on your as--”

“Good,” Mordrenaux said, interrupting. “I, for one, am glad to see you happy and healthy. You might not follow the traditional family path, but you’re enjoying yourself and you’ve made some good friends, unless I miss my guess.” His thick brows dropped. “Though I’m concerned about that giant, leaf-riddled thing you brought in with you.”

Neyleth blushed, glancing over her shoulder at her bow. “Well I...might have lost the bow you gave me. I had to get another one.” Technically she had two: her proper fighting bow and the beautiful gift her friends had given her. The latter remained in her apartment out of harm’s way.

“A rather terrifying draw range as well,” her grandfather said dryly. “Taking advantage of those muscles you appear to have built up in your travels.” He banged his cane on the floor. “At least you’re off broadening your horizons, unlike the rest of this family.” He sat back, grinning wickedly at the uproar that comment sparked.

Everyone started yelling at once, arguing about jobs and family, their personal goals, how they had better things to do. Finally, it was her uncle Nierre whose booming voice raised above them all. “At least my children aren’t filthy wandering peasants!”

The room went silent.

Neyleth slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “I don’t care what you think,” she hissed at them, her gaze focused on her uncle. Filthy wandering peasant, indeed. “My path is mine. None of you understand, and you probably never will. I don’t care anymore. I’ve made friends who actually like me for who I am, and I’d much rather their company than yours, where I’m treated like an outcast.” She sat back in her chair. “Once I’m done eating, I’ll go, and you’ll be lucky if I come back next year.” Or at all.

Marinelle got up and walked over to Neyleth, throwing her arms around her. “Oh Neyleth, you are not an outcast! You’re right…” she took a breath, “in that we don’t understand you, but that’s not such a bad thing! I’m sure most parents don’t understand their children. None of that means we don’t love you.”

Behind her, Teldan nodded in agreement, his eyes shining. “We’re proud of all that you do,” he said, voice gruff.

“Of course we are! Nobody else has a daughter that works in such exotic locations, and with such unusual people.” She leaned forward and kissed Neyleth’s cheek. “We were so concerned for you when you were young, because you never talked to anyone. Never seemed to need company other than your own and Nimsa’s. Now though, you’re happy and enjoying yourself, and you have friends! How could we be anything less than proud?” Marinelle wiped under her eyes.

Neyleth looked between them, a lump rising in her throat. “Why...didn’t you say anything?” Her voice was choked.

Marinelle touched her fingertips to Neyleth’s cheek. “We never knew what to say,” she said simply.

“I needed to hear it,” Neyleth said, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “For as long as I can remember, I thought you were ashamed of me--”

The twins snorted loudly, breaking the mood. “Oh, by the stars, must we do this now? You’re putting me off my food.” This was from Alternys, his tweaked brows raised and his nose in the air.

At his side, Fleuredell giggled behind her hand, her long, neatly-trimmed nails painted purple.

“As if you two have even seen the stars.” Neyleth scowled at them. “You pampered ninnies wouldn’t last a day in the wilds.” Ignoring their squawks of protest, she turned back to her parents. “I’m glad you told me.” Perhaps she could have helped too, had she only bothered to talk to them. “You know...you’re welcome to come to my next presentation,” she offered.

“I’d like that,” Marinelle sighed, matching her daughter’s smile. “Teldan, you’d like to see too, right?”

Her father nodded. “It’d be good to see you in your element, daughter.” He took his wife’s hand, and the two of them looked at Neyleth with pride in their eyes.

For the first time, Neyleth thought there might be hope for understanding her family. Feeling better than she had in a long time, she threw herself into the conversation.

#stories #neyleth #family #the asteri clan #assorted family members #prompt

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