#But I also never paid much attention to him before Arcane

[nylloth]

[tamedgod]

   it’s a xiao kinda night —

   a question i have been asked a few times in my career writing this guy is “does he have a personality outside of haru” and while the answer is yes, you gotta remember that he’s the supporting character to haru’s story and not the other way around. but he really does have many layers, some he isn’t even aware of having.

   xiaolong is by no means a good or even nice person, especially at the start of his development. he’s the second born of three in the current long dynasty, his older brother jun being the prodigal son and little sister ash’aa being the babygirl. it wasn’t until the power of the dosha started manifesting within him that his family paid true attention to him, and he absolutely reveled in being the sudden favorite. while jun was still prepped to take over the empire as crown prince, xiao was given new purpose as the next dosha, elevated to war general of the kingdom as he began training his divine abilities. killing had always come easy to xiao, his ability with almost any weapon an incredible sight to see on the battlefield. as his powers grew though, he learned much more about what it meant to truly be death incarnate.

   with a thirst to prove himself, xiao dove headfirst into pushing his arcane abilities to the limit, in doing so learning that he could wipe entire cities and communities off the map with but a look. when he slaughtered all units on both sides during the siege of rekisant, he donned a new moniker as the “world eater”, and knowledge that a new dosha had been born spread far throughout relogae. this awakening of his power brought on side effects, however, for with each death he caused, the closer to death xiao became. it wouldn’t be long before the clairaudience would begin, the dragon prince hearing whispers that he could never find, voices that were both familiar and unknown to him all at once. he also found that physical contact with others became almost impossible, his touch now black and poisonous. any body that came in contact with him would drop dead quickly after — quickly killing his penchant for sleeping around and flirting with others. this side effect really isolated him until haru came along.

   the pair would meet in the woods under a misunderstanding, with haru attacking xiao and the boy god confident that his touch would end her. when she drove her lance deep into his chest, however — remaining very much alive — he learned that someone had survived him. someone could survive him. he latched on quickly, despite haru’s distaste with him at the beginning, and this was where he began to learn more about himself than he’d probably ever wanted to. learning how the war had really affected all the creatures of the kingdom, the fear and hopelessness his family evoked, that he could be more than what he felt resigned to be — a real mirror was shined on him after meeting haru, who had no qualms calling him out on anything he did that harmed those around him. haru showed him how to really think about his actions and understand his very wild and intense emotions.

   desperate not to lose the only person now that he could touch, xiao worked hard to earn haru’s respect, and eventually the two would become close. this is honestly the main reason that haru is so so important to him, even in verses where they are actively enemies. in every iteration of their story, xiao’s core development is centered on teachings given to him by haru, and i try to make sure that that central piece of him always remains. while i can and have written verses where xiao is a solo character and completely separate from haru, i always try to stress to my partners that he’s going to be pretty insufferable when doing so. haru really revealed to him a sense of morals and ethics that he’d never uncovered before, and thus is the reason that he behaves so much worse without her actively in his life (i.e. joining talon in the overwatch verse). her belief in him is a drug, and he’s hopelessly addicted to the validation she provides him. this is very toxic to haru, yes, which is why in many verses she tries to keep some distance between them. xiao is unlearning years’ worth of terrible beliefs and behaviors, and is an extremely selfish man even with what he truly, truly loves.

   but he’s learning. he’s doing his best.

[cdcore]

"THE FOREVER STORY": THE INTERSECTION OF SUCCESS AND SELF

I’ve been in a period recently where I’ve been revisiting some music that really captured me rather than actively exploring new albums. One album that has by sheer willpower refused to leave my rotation almost half a year after it initially dropped is “The Forever Story” by Atlanta rapper JID.

 For many, JID has been the next up-and-coming rapper for quite some time now: his features on various soundtracks recently like the Netflix original “Arcane” have placed him in a pivotal point in time for his career. JID by no means holds the household recognition that an artist like Drake or even Kendrick Lamar has, but he’s consistently earning the respect of his contemporaries and establishing himself as a future contender for the best in his generation.

“The Forever Story”, his third album to date, relishes those crossroads perfectly. Equal parts ambitious and humble, the album is ultimately a dedication to his roots --- tracks focus on the influence of his family, his socioeconomic situation growing up in Atlanta --- with the album’s title being an inversion of his first album, “The Never Story”. For every story detailing his origins, there’s another track dedicated to his ambition, his infectious passion for success and a recognition of his newfound status. The album begins with a delicate intro in “Galaxy”, featuring JID and some female vocalists signing sections of lines off his first album’s intro, “Doo Wop”. The attention to his original musical efforts is made visible with this choice, but soon we also are reminded how much has changed since his 2017 release --- Galaxy ends with a voicemail accusing JID of being fake for no longer being so easy to get in contact with. The voicemail itself is a little dramatic so I always interpret that it’s supposed to be taken in good humor, but it does raise a question: how much does success change us, and even if it doesn’t, how much does it warp someone’s view of us?

We’re then brought into the fast-paced, electric opening song “Raydar”, which beautifully references his original career ambitions through some clever sampling. For those unaware, JID originally intended to be a professional football player, even receiving a full athletic scholarship to play at Hampton University. The repeated use of a penalty flag announcement sample to break up verses references this, with the sample in question even referencing his specific number from when he played --- number 6.

Beyond some impressive sampling and fun beat switches, JID also brings some in some clever wordplay that connects back to the voicemail we heard earlier. JID says: “I know some rappers who paid but broke/Lotta money but you played your soul, you played yourself, you played the role.” There’s some really fun rhyme schemes here as the actual rhyme in each set changes --- first he rhymes paid with played which notably don’t end his phrases, before switching to rhyming soul with role, which do. Furthermore, This set of dialogue is clear in pondering the point that voicemail made earlier of fame changing someone --- He recognizes, likely with derision, that he could’ve been more financially affluent and famous had he compromised some of his morals, playing into a more stereotypical rapper “role”.

For the sake of brevity, this song features too dense of lyrics to enumerate on all its points, but a lot of what that role is and the oppressive nature of fame for rappers and Black artists is elaborated in the song, citing systemic racial injustices as the main axis in which his community is continually kept down.

“Dance Now” and “Crack Sandwich” focus on him fighting against peoples’ dismissal of success, as well as painting some pretty vivid imagery of his roots in Atlanta. Dance Now begins with a series of dismissive quotes he’s heard throughout his recent success, people attributing his growth to J Cole, the artist who signed JID to his record label, with a quote again referencing his community’s fear that he may have to “sell his soul” in the process. In this regard, Dance Now leans into some subtle implications of JID’s own faith and fears of compromising it --- he mentions wanting to “bear it all” to God and overcoming struggles he found in Satan. The song itself plays with the fear of him losing that struggle --- a chorus sung hauntingly by longtime collaborator Kenny Mason ends with the following lines: “You dance with the devil, you’ll never dance again,” before launching into a post-chorus where JID and Kenny Mason violently chant “dance now” over and over, even layering a lower pitched version of his voice to further implicate something demonic.

Moving from his faith, Crack Sandwich is likely the best piece of storytelling across the entire album --- JID discusses the dynamics of his 6 other siblings, both by describing them before going moment-by-moment where they were all at a party and his sister got into fight. The entire family starts joining in this chaotic street fight portrayed by JID like its something out of a movie --- verses are bookended by quotes their father would lecture them with, and samples some playful teasing and arguing throughout the track’s duration to further simulate the dynamic of some brothers and sisters that love each other but definitely butt heads a lot.

This loyalty is further extended upon in a later track, “Bruddanem”, which may as well be an anthem for familial bonds breaking for nothing --- it ends with a pretty electric feature from Lil’ Durk as well, who I’m not typically huge on.

Another impressive aspect of the album is its overall versatility: from here, tracks like “Can’t Punk Me” and “Surround Sound” hit more of your traditional pop rap, detailing JID’s success. Beyond lyrical content, his variety of flows, sudden switches and speed make these tracks something more of manic fun than more of a focus on raw storytelling. If listeners are looking for it, though, both songs feature some discussions of the violent streets in which JID and his feature artists, EARTHGANG and the ever-popular 21 Savage describe.

Yet another complete change of pace is Kody Blu 31, an anthem of JID refusing to give up and to, in his words, “keep on swangin’ on” even in the face of the most difficult pressure he’s faced. Above anything, anyone listening to this track will notice JID sings his heart out here, something he’s never really showcased prior --- he confirmed he actually worked with a vocal coach for months in preparation for the album.

I think this is what’s ultimately driven me back to this specific piece of music so many times. “The Forever Story” is an album that you can tell is made with nothing but pure passion. Every feature delivers, including one of the best Lil’ Wayne features in years on the track “Just In Time”. There’s such a variety of rap here, from the relentless storytelling of “Crack Sandwich”, “2007” and “Money”. JID hits emotional notes and something more akin to some of an R&B track in “Can’t Make U Change”. Other tracks like “Dance Now” feel so focused on the sound and the energy its conveying.

The depth of subject matter across these 16 tracks is something else as well. “Sistanem” and “Can’t Make U Change” detail his relationship struggles as he tours and becomes more focused on music, “Stars” is a dreamlike meditation on the early months when an artist has to convince themselves and others around them that success is possible, that despite their sensitivities, their lack of money and their general fear that their passion is something that can sustain them. The deluxe-exclusive “2007” point-blank details JID’s life story, complete with sampling of other rap songs that he, in the lyrics of that song namedrops as influences to him --- it even has a section performed by his father discussing his pride in his son.

If “The Never Story” was a desperate artist carving a niche for himself, “The Forever Story” is that artist able to realize the success and passion he could only dream of prior. For these reasons, “The Forever Story” remains my favorite album of the last year, and might one day even become my favorite of all time.

[maybemochas]

No one has done first kiss imagines w/ arcane Viktor yet🥺 he deserves some kisses

THE MAN DESERVES SMOOCHES

It was late.

You found that Viktor had been spending more and more of his time at the lab. The lab saw more sleepless nights of studying and careful analysis than his own home saw rest and stress relief of any sort. Despite his empty assurances that he would take better care of himself, you had seen nothing of the sort. It worried you deeply.

Which is how you found yourself in a begrudgingly frustrating standoff with the inventor in the dead of the night.

"You said you would go home tonight Viktor," you crossed your arms as you reminded the man of his own empty promises.

"I know," he admitted with an ounce of regret showing on his face before his expression shifted into something more stern. "But I'm so close to figuring this out. The answer is brushing against my fingertips, I can feel it. It's almost in reach. I can't just stop now."

You huffed, looking over the floating device that had all but consumed Viktor's thoughts lately. "Has it ever occurred to you that the reason your breakthrough is so close yet so far away is because you are working yourself to death? Even Jayce has been taking time off lately."

Viktor shook his head, making a scornful laugh that sounded more like a scoff as he turned his attention back to his work. "And look where that has gotten him."

He grimaced at his own bitter tone, leaning back and having the dignity to look a bit ashamed. "I'm sorry, that was... not what I meant."

You sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze. "I know," you said. "And I know how important this is to you... I care about you Viktor. That means I care about what matters most to you as well. This Hexcore is everything. It will change the world."

Your hand slipped away as you turned to look out the window, the golden lights of Piltover shining in the distance reflected in your gaze. "I just... I want you to be there to see the world you create. It may be selfish of me, but I don't see a point in such a world without you in it."

Viktor inhaled sharply, turning to look at you. He had been so focused that he had nearly missed it. He had always been that way. He remembered when his assistant had offered to take him home, how he hadn't realized the hidden meaning behind her words until weeks later.

You had never been quite like that though. He knew you cared. He knew that there may be even more than that if he dared to hope. But you had shown it so differently that he was used to. He wasn't much of a romantic himself. Sure, he had a romance of his own with his work, but he never paid attention to the stories, to the fleeting emotions around him. It held little interest to him. Something so humane and fickle.

But... you were just a bit different. You didn't push your feelings onto him. You were stubborn and showed the way you felt through the way you cared for him. You always respected and admired his work, even when you didn't understand it. You never tried to make him choose. Never tried to change him. But you didn't let him fall either.

You noticed his health and in all honesty you had been hounding him and Jayce to care better for themselves even before you had realized his health was rapidly declining. You made sure he wasn't sucked into an abyss of making things worse for himself and he found it harder and harder to say no to you.

Surely it frustrated him at times but it also... made him happy. You brought him tea, knew where to look for him when he was deep in thought and away from the lab. Knew that he didn't need you to solve his problems, just to sit with him and be there. You asked questions about his research. Shared his joys and failures much like a partner would. Above everything, you were someone who cared. Cared more than he deserved. And he nearly let himself be blind to that.

You startled a bit when he suddenly stood, leaning on his cane as he took your hand in his.

"Viktor..?"

Your eyes widened as he closed the distance without warning. It wasn't an abrupt thing, in fact it was so tenderly gentle that you couldn't help the gasp that left your lips as his pressed against yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed as your arms draped over his shoulders, your fingers quickly finding a home in messy strands of hair as you pulled him closer to you.

Viktor felt a warmth in his chest that was completely foreign to him. He wanted more of it and was almost terrified by it at the same time. Something pulled at his heart so strongly and he found himself wondering how he had never discovered this feeling before. He wanted to know more. Wanted to feel more.

When he pulled away, he found his cheeks were flushed warm as well. It wasn't embarrassment but something else. Something new.

You chuckled as you shook your head, your hand coming up to cup the side of his face. "I can see the wheels turning in there Viktor. Tell me what's on your mind."

"I just...," he breathed. "I've never- I didn't know. Is this what it feels like? Why is my heart racing like this? It feels so warm and bright but it's cold and dark in here. It's a completely new sensation."

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. It was just so like him to look at newfound feelings as a mystery to unravel. It was one of the exact reasons you loved him so much.

"Is it... something you want to learn more about?" You asked tentatively.

"I- yes. I think I would." Viktor admitted, still rolling a thousand questions around in his proactive mind.

Your thumb gently swept over his cheek as you took in his sharp features from the rigid cut of his cheekbones to the beauty marks that accented his subtle charm.

He leaned into your touch, a gentle smile spreading on his lips. You hummed, feeling yourself smile as well. Something so pure and contagious. Even if it may be fleeting.

"Let me take you home, Viktor," you offered quietly as you tucked a messy strand of hair behind his ear.

"I don't have much of a choice in this, do I?" he chuckled.

You grinned and shook your head, "Not in the slightest."

With a sigh he leaned in and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his eyes closed as he allowed himself this moment of peace and respite.

"Very well, cолнышко. Very well."

[takalzuoom]

i’m procrastinating my noxus fic and more self aware arcane au cause i have 0 motivation 😺

and i also watched the ‘therapist reacts to viktor’ and just thought about singed and viktor’s relationship

cw: mentions of shimmer addictions, mentions of 0rgan trafficking, singed

so i give you:

apprentice! reader x viktor

obviously this is platonic

in zaun

it was one of his visits to zaun when he saw you. in nothing but rags sitting on the steps on what seemed to be a brothel

he never paid much attention to the kids in zaun, being one himself he knew there were groups that looked out for each other. that were your family

so he figured you were waiting for them to return with food.

but every time he’d visit singed, he’d note you that you were reading the same dusty covered book, that seemed more and more damaged as you read it.

occasionally he would catch your eye, noting your sunken face and discoloring, but the first time you ever talked was when he saw you hunched over a new book- books as you switched from ex hone one.

“what are you writing?”

as quickly as you were writing, you snatched the books from the stairway and hugged them to your chest. spare papers fluttering from them as you hastily picked them up.

he didn’t mind the panicked look on your face as he picked up a stray paper you were about to grab.

“that’s mine!”

“ i am merrily just give it a look over”

“give it here!”

his eyes lingered on a sentence before you ripped it from his fingers before stuffing it all the way against your chest.

you tried scurrying away before he called at you with your notes and papers

“tell me- why are you researching shimmer?”

“that’s none of your business, plitover” he though a conscious look was on his face, he smiled at your weak excuse of a insult and of the fact that you couldn’t even finish it

so as anyone would do, he ignored it

“why aren’t you playing with the others? ive seen an amount of them around.”

you stopped, kicking your dust as you looked at him form under your bangs

“…they don’t want to play with me…” you trailed of, looking to the side

“they say brainiacs like me won’t do anything for them for food… kick me out”

as you were a child, you wore your heart on your sleeve so he knew what was going on in your head…

“what about your parents? did they… perhaps get into shimmer”

“is that what you heard around? cause that isn’t true! it’s not! whoever you heard that from is a liar!”

“i see… tell me, how would you like to come with me?” he walked forward a step

“and get used for organ trafficking? no way. i may not be as fast as the other kids, i’m still fast, and i doubt you’ll be able to catch up-“

“i’m not here for that” he reassured

“i just know what it’s like to be alone due to your intellect” he took another step

turning around he looked back as he started walking. “i’m, from zaun too”

“and the research you did- ehh albeit a bit fundamental- but i see potential in what you do. and someone… i know told me ‘ the brightest minds are often the loneliest”

he left you alone after that, knowing that the unspoken offer was still on the table every time he saw you scribbling something down each time he visited singed

even though he never really looked at you, he always felt your beady eyes staring at his figure. and he found it amusing when he would purposely take different routes, only for you to go looking from him and peer at him from around a far corner

he noticed how you would sometimes follow him to singed’s lab. one time actually asking him where he was going. “come find out”

and there you were. finding comically behind the scientists. well- hard to hide when hehe side stepped to expose you to the ‘demon man’

viktor wasn’t… fond of the idea of you staying around with singed, as he remembered the horrors from his childhood. but he’s grown up now- understands now. and he’s fully aware that you don’t have anyone else.

your words as you’ve heard of the horrid experiments he’s done

“oh? and who might, this be?”

he had made an agreement with singed that you would study under him just like how viktor didn’t and in those few weeks, while he never gave you lodging, he did provide you new study materials and sometimes food.

he almost treated you like he would treat his own child. though that did take a while to get at that stage.

and when viktor came to visit you were mostly banned from the lab. albeit sometimes you were allowed to sit in and sometimes give input. but most of all it was a learning experience for you

and when you had expressed an interest of attending the university of zaun- viktor gave the option of attending the academy and staying in plitover. with him.

this was mostly a bit of plot… so i’ll get into the actual shenanigans in another post😼

[11quillen11]

About Sky

“Was Sky fringed and, if she was, is it all that bad?” is a conversation that has been and still is ongoing when it comes to Arcane Season 1, and here’s my take on it: Sky has been fringed, but the writers probably tried (and failed) to not make it so. It is bad, but it is not that bad. Wow, way to not commit, you must be thinking. Just bear with me, because here’s the thing: I might be wrong, but I suspect that the writers didn’t know exactly what they wanted to do with her. On one hand, we don’t see her enough to establish a strong connection with her, on the other hand, we see her too much for the very point of her death to be that she was a random innocent bystander.

Sky was fringed in the sense that she is a character we hardly knew anything about whose death was used to further Viktor’s character development. It is a valid take that we were supposed to feel sad that she died, not because we had any connection or particular feelings towards her, but because Viktor, whom we know and love, did. Or that we were supposed to feel sad because she loved Viktor. Same thing. The fact that she is in Viktor’s flashback, implying that she has loved and admired him since childhood and stuck with him into adulthood, and the fact that she has two scenes establishing her (almost certainly) romantic feelings for him in Arcs II and III seem to support that theory. Arcane did not have time to go in depth on Sky’s backstory and her relationship with Viktor but tried to communicate it through those three scenes so that when she died, we were sad that it was her, specifically, who died, because she had this connection to Viktor. Arcane does similar things with other characters: for example, we see Powder have a mental breakdown only once, but we are supposed to infer from it that she has always struggled with mental health issues, and it works. For Sky, however, the result is that we are given a character – whose only defining trait is that she likes Viktor – being killed so that Viktor can be sad and grow as a person. Textbook fringing.

On the other hand, Arcane also goes out of its way to let us know that this relationship was very much one-sided: Viktor does not interact with her in the flashback scene, calls her “Miss Young” when they are adults, prioritises his work over her, has no idea about the research that she is doing and no idea what to do with her ashes when she’s dead (real question: does she not have family? Does he know whether or not she has family? Does he care? Is he keeping her death a secret to protect himself? For real, who knows that she’s dead? Does Jayce know?). Yet when she dies, the score, the cinematography, Viktor’s reaction… all of it indicates that we are still supposed to feel sad. Her death is a tragedy, but if we choose to focus on the fact that Viktor and her did not really know each other, then it is the very fact that she was a background character that we never noticed or paid attention to before that makes it so sad. It reminds us as well as Viktor that not only his life is important, that even somebody who is not a genius inventor with a tragic backstory has value, that every single death is a tragedy and that any experiment that will take life is not one worth conducting. Which is nice. It’s a nice message.

It doesn’t work though because the first interpretation can be made. Sky is not a stranger, per say. She’s a character about whom we know too little to care, but too much to not notice.

I feel like there is a simple fix to this problem; it’s just for Arcane to commit. If you want to commit to making her a full-blown character, then include more scenes of her and give her a life and personality outside of her connection to Viktor. If you want to commit to making her a nobody whose death is tragic because we don’t know her, then do not show her in Viktor’s flashback and tone down her interactions with him (maybe don’t have her speak at all until her death scene, that would be a slap in the face). I personally think the second solution is the best, simply because Arcane clearly doesn’t have the time or space to make Sky a more prominent character, the cast is already packed, and she doesn’t have enough depth as she is that we would miss her screentime.

Bonus: This is complete speculation, but I’m thinking, maybe the writers originally wrote Sky to just be there, have a crush on Viktor, and die, then thought “No, we can’t have a character just exist to die, we should develop her a little more so that her death can have more impact” and then inserted her into Viktor’s flashback. A mistake, imo.

[peachcitt]

I've seen a lot of people saying that rot was BAD, what is your opinion?

OH IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

like most people (im sure) after finishing rise of the titans, after wiping up my tears i went to the rot tag to see maybe some gifs or something. you know, make myself cry a little more. instead, i found a bunch of people saying how much they hated the ending, how it was as terrible as some of the worst big finale bombs (endgame, game of thrones, etc) and uh. im not saying the ending is perfect, but it is DEFINITELY not as disastrous as what people are making it out to be, in my opinion. i thoroughly enjoyed the movie, actually, and i thought it was an effective way to end the tales of arcadia.

warning: rise of the titans spoilers, as well as general tales of arcadia spoilers

were there some things i didn't like? yeah!

the major things i didn't like align with a lot of what i see other people saying:

the weird mpreg plotline with steve. it just felt so strange and out of place, and it was used as a tactic to remove eli and steve from the major action, which i don't like.

and the 'ninth configuration' thing that, once again, excluded eli and steve. i didn't see a reason why they shouldn't have been there, seeing as they have contributed to trollhunting since nearly the start of all of the tales of arcadia. multiples of three are clean and smooth, i get it, but at the expense of two characters that were so lovingly developed in trollhunters and 3below?? yikes

with that being said, though, i don't agree with what a lot of people are saying about the time travel at the end. obviously, they bring up some good points - by changing the timeline so drastically, there's no way for jim to ensure that they'll be able to succeed or if the arcane order will even act in the same way. it's a big 'if' and it is worth thinking about

but people have been saying that the ending is out of jim's character and negates his arc, and i have to say. that's not true.

if you've been following my blog since july 1st, you'll know that ive spent the past twenty one days rewatching the entire tales of arcadia series at a steady pace, and within that time, i've paid a whole lot of attention to jim's arc as a character and how the finale of trollhunters left me feeling as if something just wasn't clicking right. his arc wasn't finished.

because all throughout trollhunters, jim is constantly having to prove his worth - and most of the time, the way he's proving his worth is by sacrificing himself. he takes all the blame when anything goes wrong, and on some level, jim never truly learns the lesson from season one of trollhunters that he's enough as a hero because he has his friends to back him up. like, yeah, he relies on them a bit more after that, but in the end, he still stands in the bathroom alone, separated from all his allies, and shoulders the burden of turning into a troll alone. and he leaves arcadia, the city he was fighting so hard to protect, and he leaves his best friend, the one that has been with him since the beginning.

then we get wizards, where jim lets himself be corrupted to save his friends. and then, because of that sacrifice, he ends up hurting all of them. i believe this fact - that he willingly corrupted himself, separated himself from his allies, and ended up hurting the people he loved - shook jim's foundation as a hero, which is why he can't believe he's the trollhunter without the amulet. the amulet was the physical manifestation of what it meant to be a hero to him, but it was destroyed when he was corrupted - it was destroyed when he hurt his friends.

that's how we see him in rise of the titans; he's still struggling with his identity as a hero because he doesn't have the amulet or the unshakable foundation he previously had of his heroism. literally everyone is looking for him to be the leader and make the huge, world-saving-or-destroying decisions, but he can't shoulder that huge burden knowing he could hurt everyone. and then, just to add fuel to the fire, it's his plan that causes people to die or be permanently separated from the group. and he can't even get the sword out of the stone! why? because he himself doesn't see himself as worthy - how can you think of yourself as worthy when you just got two of your allies killed and two more gone, presumably for forever?

but this is the moment it finally clicks for jim. he looks around at his allies, and he sees them reflected in the amulet. he's not alone, he doesn't have to be worthy just by himself, he has an entire group of people who have fought by his side time and time again that, even despite all the mistakes and missteps he's made, are still by his side.

and what makes the amulet work, in the final fight, is his firm determination to see this fight through, no matter if he has the armor or not. he's terrified, he's probably going to die - but it's that bravery despite the fear that makes him a hero, a trollhunter, amulet or not. and he knows that now - he's had to face it before, in the unbecoming episode, but it's different now. in the unbecoming episode, he was truly alone when he decided to face the fight. and he's alone here in rise of the titans - but not for long! because almost immediately after jim comes to terms with his place as a hero again, toby comes along, and he doesn't finish this fight alone!! he finishes this fight with another trollhunter, who doesn't have an amulet!!

jim deciding to rewind time to back before the events of trollhunters is a bold choice, but it tracks with a theme in wizards - merlin told douxie that what set him apart as a master wizard was his belief that every life was valuable and worthy of being saved. this theme is repeated in the new amulet in rise of the guardians; it's for the glory of all, not just for one person.

and jim deciding to have toby become the trollhunter finally marks the completion of jim's arc. instead of shouldering the burden alone, which is inevitably what would've happened if jim had rewound time, kept all of his memories, and accepted the amulet again, jim is choosing to accept allies into his life sooner. instead of being the trollhunter, jim is letting himself be a trollhunter, alongside all the other trollhunters.

of course, there's some things in this alternate timeline i don't like; mainly that no one stepped in to stop steve from bullying eli. that, to me, was the most out of character, and i can only assume jim didn't step in because he's leaving room for that fight to be toby's; competing against steve was a large jumpstart to jim feeling like he could be strong enough to bear the mantle, and maybe jim was just trying leave it up to toby to establish that on his own. still, i didn't like it.

and, of course, there are people lamenting the fact that none of the heroes of arcadia know each other or that they might not have the same relationships, but i immediately thought of the time loop episode in 3below. in that episode, the trollhunters team and the gang from 3below meet and become friends and ultimately lose the memory of that friendship from that day. however, in that episode, blinky says that true friendship would last against the test of time; if they were meant to be together, then they would be. and guess what? even though none of them remember that happening, they all still became friends. it was meant to be.

i think a lot of anxieties about the changed timeline are because people loved the events of trollhunters so much that they a) don't want to see anything changed and/or b) are trying to project the events of trollhunters onto the new timeline and are upset when they don't fit. toby won't be the same kind of hero that jim is, though - he never has been. inevitably, the story will be different, and that's scary. that was the risk jim took, though, and jim has always trusted in toby, so why shouldn't we?

to me, tales of arcadia has never been about clean endings that make you feel entirely good. they've always left me with a tang of bitter along with the sweet, and i think that's the point. tales of arcadia has always battled with hard questions and difficult endings, and i don't see rise of the titans being any different from that.

like i said before, i don't think rise of the titans is perfect. but you can hate it as much as you want; i still really think it did a good job with the story it was trying to tell. i mean, ending with the idea that all lives are important and worth saving, no matter the risk? that heroism inherently means being part of a collective that you trust and believe in? that through time and space, you will always be able to find and connect with the people you love? that's powerful.

im climbing off my soapbox now, but basically tl;dr: rise of the titans was a good finale, despite it's imperfections, and i think that's all i can ask for.

also if you don't like toby as the trollhunter just because you don't like him breaking out of the 'funny sidekick' archetype you can die by my blade

[beauregardlionett]

no choir (7/7)

AO3 Link

Deep in the sprawling tangle of streets in Zadash, there sat a coffee shop. But this shop was unlike any other in the city—or in the world. Their menu hosted a standard fare upon first glance. They sold Americanos, café latte, mochas, various teas, flat whites, and an array of flavors. A long-standing sign in the front window boasted the best “Caramel Frappuccino in Wildemount” with an official-looking stamp in the corner.

But upon further inspection, tucked beneath the chalkboard with flavor add-ins, was what made this place truly unique. You could order an extra shot of charisma with your flat white, two pumps of focus to your iced latte, or even a sprinkle of luck to your hot chocolate.

Yasha, traveling under the mantle of Kord, had never seen anything quite like this. The sign above the door dubbed the shop Cobalt Coffee.

The barista behind the counter looked up at the quiet creak of the door permitting Yasha’s entry. He smiled politely at her and remained quiet as she scanned the menu with a curious eye. The shop boasted a handful of tables, two of which sat occupied at the moment, so Yasha took her time.

When she stepped up to order, the Drow behind the counter smiled a little more.

“I’ll take an Americano, please.”

The barista—who wore a nametag Yasha now saw said ‘Essek’—raised an eyebrow at her.

“Any add-ins?”

Yasha hesitated, mismatched eyes flicking to the inconspicuous board in the corner again.

“Some cream for calming, maybe?”

Essek nodded and turned away to start on her drink. Yasha deflated as she stepped back from the counter, cheeks hot with embarrassment. She felt foolish, ordering a drink to take the edge off in such a strange way. But from Essek’s reaction, it seemed stranger here to order a drink without a foolish sounding ingredient added in.

Kord had asked Yasha a few nights back to chase down a group of heretics that were wrecking havoc along the Glory Run Road. She was still tracking them down, but Yasha could tell she was getting close. The tavern owner she had spoken to just this morning recalled some faces she had described. He pointed her in the right direction and assured Yasha they had less than a day’s lead on her. Stopping at this shop, however, was a detour she decided upon for herself.

“One Americano with calming cream,” Essek called to Yasha quietly. She stepped up to grab her drink, taking a sip, almost on instinct. The rush of soothing sweetness that flooded her veins and unlocked the tension in her muscles was disorienting. Yasha didn’t know if it was actual magic or merely a placebo effect, but she indeed felt better.

“Thank you,” Yasha said, reaching for her coin purse.

Essek accepted her payment with a smile and waved as Yasha exited the shop.

--

Yasha found herself back in Zadash a little over a week later. Not for any reason, more on her way through after dealing with Kord’s heretics. She was content to get lost among the tangle of streets, the bustle of the crowd, and wound up staying for a few days.

Somehow, she found Cobalt Coffee again, even though she didn’t remember looking for it.

There was a different barista behind the counter today. The man was gangly and tired looking, his red hair tied back in a loose ponytail that fell over one shoulder as he read a book propped on the counter. As it was early afternoon, the café was empty. A speckled cat lay curled into a fluffy ball near the barista’s elbow, purring softly in the quiet.

He glanced up distractedly as Yasha approached the counter, his attention clearly locked on the tome.

“Ah, hello,” he muttered, accent thick. “How can I help you?”

For all the surety Yasha walked into this café with, she hesitated. She remembered Essek had seemed perplexed by her lack of requested add-ins last time, and Yasha didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. But it seemed ridiculous to ask for an add-in that she had no use for.

As she scanned the menu, Yasha’s gaze caught on something, an idea popping into her head.

“An iced latte with one pump of slumber, please,” Yasha said.

Her dreams from Kord were always confusing—symbolic and silent most of the time. The thunder could either be his rumbling tenor or merely thunder, and the frequency was extremely lacking. Perhaps with a little extra assistance, Yasha might have more luck with those dreams.

Her thoughts distracted her last time she was here, so Yasha hadn’t watched Essek actually make her coffee. This time, though, the barista (the handwriting had been messy, but she’s fairly certain it said ‘Caleb’) held her attention. Yasha tracked his movements as he went about making the coffee, movements precise and sure.

He poured her drink into a to-go mug and Yasha wondered where this magical add-in had come along during the brewing process. But then he took the mug and walked over to a row of syrup dispensers. He set the mug beneath one, made a complex series of hand motions that produced tiny, glowing arcane circles, and then added a pump of syrup to Yasha’s drink.

“Here you go,” Caleb muttered as he slid the coffee mug across the counter.

Perplexed, Yasha merely nodded her thanks and paid. Caleb turned to go back to his book and paused.

“Have you ever had this drink before?”

“Uhm…no?” Yasha said, hesitant.

“I would suggest waiting until you get wherever you are staying before drinking that, then. It is a fast-acting spell. The magic will hold in the coffee for a few hours, but once you drink it, the magic moves quickly.”

“Oh, thank you,” Yasha said. She gave him a half wave, unsure if they were at that level of customer-server relationship, before scurrying from the shop.

Her dreams did not end up summoning Kord because of the magic coffee, but it was one of the best sleeps Yasha had in a long time.

--

The third time Yasha came upon the coffee shop, she was looking for it. Kord had not contacted her in weeks, and she worried she had done something wrong. There had been no dreams, no storms, not even a passing grey cloud to reassure her. She wasn’t sure what the coffee shop might offer her, but perhaps it was the familiarity she sought.

Pushing into Cobalt Coffee, Yasha found yet another barista behind the counter. Her nametag bore big, blocky writing that dubbed the woman ‘Beau’. There were a few other customers mulling over their own orders at the scattered tables. As Yasha approached the counter, scanning the add-in menu, she wondered what she might manage today.

“What can I do for ya?” Beau asked, leaning on the counter and smirking up at Yasha.

“Could I get a flat white with a shot of luck, please?”

Yasha expected Beau to turn away and start making her drink—just like Essek and Caleb did. But she raised a sharp brow at Yasha and gave a quick huff of laughter.

“Nah, that’s not what you need. Hang tight.”

Baffled, Yasha watched Beau whirl away from the counter in one fluid motion to brew coffee. After a moment, she remembered to step away and to the side in case anyone walked in and needed the menu. But it was all on autopilot. 

Neither of the other baristas challenged what she ordered, so Yasha didn’t know if she should say something. This was…unprecedented.

Beau was quick-footed and slight handed behind the bar, mixing and measuring and swirling with all the force of a storm. Yasha couldn’t help but to watch her, enthralled.

After a few moments, Beau came back to the counter and slid the coffee toward Yasha with a devilish grin.

“Flat white with what you need,” Beau said with a wink.

Before Yasha could respond, the door to the shop opened, grabbing Beau’s attention. The barista lit up and went back to the other side of the counter.

“Hey there, Fjord! The usual?”

“H-How much do I owe you?” Yasha remembered to say, somehow finding her voice through her flailing.

“It’s on the house!” Beau waved Yasha off, already working on this Fjord’s drink.

Yasha took her drink after hesitating for a moment, unsure what she was about to experience. Ducking from the store, she took a careful sip and felt a subsequent rush through her veins. Blinking against the surge of confidence that coiled through her limbs and rushed into her head, Yasha turned on a sharp heel and made her way toward Kord’s temple nearby.

She had a god to talk to.

--

Yasha stayed in Zadash for longer than she meant to. She told herself it was the lack of direction offered by the Storm Lord. She told Essek and Caleb she was on an extended visitation on behalf of her god. Beau never asked out loud, but her impossibly blue eyes did every time Yasha walked into Cobalt Coffee. But Beau also grinned more genuinely each time Yasha came in. She also never got Yasha’s order right.

They traded small talk that became progressively more. Snippets of history passed like a mug over the counter, snatches of truth stirred in with idle conversation. Deeper truths and darker coffee accompanied early morning visits in an otherwise empty shop. It was strange for Yasha to do this, especially after Zuala, and more so after she told Beau about Zuala. But she trusted Beau with these fragments as much as she trusted her to get her order wrong in the right way. It became easier as days passed.

Every time Yasha tried to order a drink with a magical add-in, Beau would shake her head and tell her she needed something else. Yasha had given up on the thought of protesting. The obvious confidence booster Beau gave her the first time ended with a vivid dream from Kord that same night, telling Yasha he had no current task for her. Then there was the latte with a shot of luck added in that ended with Yasha bumping into a vendor selling clothes almost identical to the ones Yasha misplaced the day before. The last drink had a spike of focus, lending Yasha the clarity she needed to perform a long, grueling ritual to the Storm Lord.

One day, Yasha lingered in the café. Beau was behind the counter and the tables were empty, the store quiet. Her drink must have had a sprinkle of bravery, or perhaps Yasha had grown comfortable enough with Beau to cast aside hesitation. Regardless, she found conversation easier than normal, her hesitations all but nonexistent.

“I’ve never seen you do magic over the drinks. How do you cast?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Beau said with a dismissive wave. “Haven’t got a lick in my bones.”

“Then…” Yasha trailed off, startled. Were all the drinks placebos? But they couldn’t be…Yasha knew what magic felt like.

“Caleb and Essek pre-enchant the ingredients before my shifts,” Beau explained, a smile curling up the corner of her mouth. “The magic holds longer in the ingredients than it does on people. All I have to do is add it to the drinks and voila.”

“Oh,” Yasha looked down at her café mocha. 

“You thought my drinks were bullshit, didn’t you?” Yasha looked up at Beau, panicked, until she saw the teasing smirk.

“No.” Yasha rushed to defend herself anyway, her cheeks flaming. “I just…I don’t know.”

Beau laughed, loud and cheerful. Somehow, Yasha understood Beau wasn’t laughing at her expense.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Beau chuckled. “And I’m glad you trust me with your drinks. Most people tell me I’m an asshole or to fuck off.”

“I think you have magic,” Yasha said. Beau blinked at her, head tipping to the side a little. “You always seem to know just what I need.”

It was Beau’s turn to blush as she blinked wide-eyed at Yasha. She took a sip of her mocha, never taking her eyes off Beau from behind the rim of her mug. Beau swept a look over Yasha’s relaxed posture and tried for a casual stance.

“Maybe I’m misinterpreting or overstepping, but would you like to get dinner with me tonight? I know the guy who cooks at the tavern down the street. Best food you’ve ever tasted.”

Yasha smirked into her mug, attempting to hide her blush. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[draven-imani]

Journal 5 (part 1)

We’ve had an…extremely productive day. We found a note on Hosilla’s person that detailed three safehouses of the cult of Baphomet: Nyserian Manor, Topaz Solutions, and the Tower of Estrod. The note was signed SV—which I’m assuming is Stauton Vhagn. Looks like he came back and finished the job of destroying the Wardstone after Commander Tirabade stopped him the first time.

After talking to Aravashnial, Anevia, and Horgus, we pooled our information together. Nyserian Manor was owned by a noble who sometimes worked with Horgus, and had taken out a loan from him once to buy Commander Tirabade’s sword from her. Anevia hadn’t been aware Irabeth had sold her sword—apparently she’d told her wife she’d lost it. Anevia was going to be having words with the commander of the Eagle Watch upon seeing her again.

The Tower of Estrod was of interest to Aravashnial, as it was a place of arcane studies. He also requested that we look into the Blackwing Library, where the Riftwardens would be located.

Anevia wanted to look for Irabeth, and therefore would like to look into going home as that was the only lead she had on where her wife may be.

As we discussed, we exited the subterranean tunnels and entered the sewers. And came upon three orphan kids and a middle aged pinkish tiefling woman with many piercings and a bow. The orphans immediately ran to Luna, clearly familiar with her. Another point in her favor for ‘good person, not a murderer/serial killer/whatever else the rumor mill decides to say’.

“So you must be ‘Una’,” the tiefling said, imitating the orphans mispronunciation of her name. Or maybe legitimately mistaking her name for that. “Nice to meet you, incase you haven’t noticed, everything’s gone to hell.”

The tiefling introduced herself as Hiskaria. She had arrived in town from Numeria recently to join the Raven Corps, actually, although she was apparently a Kenabres native initially. She was on lone by one ‘Kevoth-Kul’, because she was a criminal on parole, and joining the Raven Corps was her penance.

Ouch.

Aaaaaand as the only member of the Raven Corps around that means it fell on me to keep her around until we could either find her handler or someone with more authority. That and strength in numbers. We couldn’t exactly leave her behind, even if she is a confessed murderer.

Oh, yeah, I didn’t mention that her crime was murder did I? Yeah, our new buddy’s a convicted murderer. One fake murderer and one real one, and if I had to put money on it, everyone’s going to get who’s who wrong.

After some discussion, we decided to head for Horgus’ manor first. It would provide a safe place to leave the orphans, so that we wouldn’t be dragging them around in the open where every demon still lurking around might decide to swoop down on them.

We made it there with only minor incident, some rat demon ripping up a clothing store who dubbed himself ‘the rat king’. He was of personal offense to Melody given that he was in the process of destroying things of beauty. That and the owners of the shop were still there and might be able to salvage some things.

Given my studies I was able to identify the demon as an Abrikandilu, a wrecker demon. A destroyer of beauty, not just of artwork like the dresses, but of physical beauty, using their fangs to cause horrible scarring on those they attack. I also knew that Radiance was the only weapon we had that would pierce its defenses, although it also had a unique weakness to mirrors, due to all demons of this kind having an abhorrence of their own visage. That being the case, I suggested that Luna and Melody slip into the store to get one of the mirrors from the changing rooms within while I distracted and fought it with Radiance and Hiskaria took pot shots at it from a safe distance.

Radiance and I were both more than happy to finally be putting a demon to the blade.

Spilling demons’ blood, at least, we both agree on.

Things went off about how we’d hoped. The Abrikandilu was a bit faster than I’d anticipated and it rushed me rather than me pinning it by the building as I’d planned, but I stopped its fangs with my shield and avoided any new scars. Melody and Luna came out with a mirror, which drew the demon’s attention. Luna’s axe stuck into it. Then Radiance slew it.

Radiance roared in my head each time it drew blood against a demonic foe, in what I can only describe as ecstasy. They, at least, get joy from battle. I wish I could say the same, but the demons die all the same. I feel good about it, that we slayed the demon and helped those people. It’s something good. Not joy, that’s too strong of a word. I feel—satisfied, maybe?

Regardless, the shop owners thanked us. They had little to offer and we tried to assure them that we didn’t need anything, but they insisted on at least providing us with a nice outfit each in thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything so fine. An orphan and a soldier don’t exactly make for elegant living.

Afterwards we made it to Horgus’ manor with no further incidents. His holdings were untouched. Melody mused at first that perhaps someone was trying to frame him. However after some thought, Hiskaria and I disagreed with that assessment. Demons by nature would seek out where the most people are, the places where they could wreak the most havoc. And as we approached it was clear that his manor was devoid of life. It would seem that his men and his servants had fled their posts when the attack happened, and as a lucky result the manor had been untouched. I’ll give Horgus some credit here. While he was clearly visibly upset that the men he’d hired to protect his holdings had left their posts, he tried very hard to be reasonable that it was for the best that they’d left and protected the servants, and that it had indirectly kept the demons from destroying his things. He was however very upset that they’d taken all of the mints from the little bowl at the front entrance—as was Miss Melody, who bemoaned that it was quite rude of them. Ah what I would give to have her priorities.

Luna was shepherding the orphans—one of whom, Hamm, had taken a shine to Hiskaria’s magic and gotten it into his head that he was going to…what was it? Summon demons in his snot bubbles? Charming kid. Glad his entire world falling apart around him didn’t completely destroy his sense of innocence and wonder. Suppose he was lucky he ran into Hiskaria so the three of them didn’t get killed or worse. That’s a point in her favor.

After gathering up food from the kitchen and some entertainment for the kids from a room formerly used for the staff’s children while they were on the job, Horgus went down to the safest part of the manor: the vault. He opened the safe, which proved to have been completed untouched. Inside was more wealth than I’d probably ever seen in one place before, or ever will again. He paid Luna that looked like a rather hefty sum. Then he also paid myself, Melody, and Hiskaria 1000 gold for returning him here safely, although payment had never been promised. Hiskaria tried to argue that she’d only just joined with us, but he said that it was payment due to someone who couldn’t be here to take their cut.

Horgus…is a complicated man, I am beginning to realize. I cannot pin him down yet. Even more than most people, his words and actions do not align. And even some of his actions I think are more masks on top of that. Luna insists he’s a good man but won’t give details beyond that. She’s had a few private conversations with him, so I’m inclined to believe she knows something that’s given her that impression. And I trust Luna’s judgement in people.

As Horgus locked himself away, we heard the beginnings of him teaching the kids something or another about some…math thing. I don’t know, look, I’m not the one to look to about Abadar tax bracket stuff. Luna was just glad he was hopefully keeping Hamm from thinking about snot demons.

From there we went next door, to Nyserian Manor. Or what was left of it. Which was not much. At all. Or anything, really. See, the demons hadn’t been very discerning in their building demolition. They’d destroyed their own safehouse. Idiots. Served anyone who was inside right for betraying humanity to the demons.

Next up was Blackwing Library.

Oh Blackwing Library. This one made me angry.

If you know me you know that’s bad. Of course, you don’t know me, because you’re just a bundle of inanimate papers sandwiched in leather that I’m writing in to keep my tenuous grip on sanity together. Suffice to say: that’s bad. I don’t get angry easily. Unless you’re a Deskari worshipper or waving his symbol in my face like I’m a bull, but I mean, that’s just asking for trouble from any Iomedaen, really.

As we approached the library, it was immediately apparent that the entire thing had been decimated. Aravashnial was despondent. All of his friends and colleagues with the Riftwardens would have been there, and he feared the worst. While Melody and surprisingly Hiskaria tried to comfort him, Luna tried to sneak closer to look into the library. I stuck close to her, although not so close as to blow her cover.

What she saw was a turncoat Iomedaen with five librarians bound and gagged, and a sixth librarian being forced to pile books around them, to serve as both a book burning and a funeral pyre.

We didn’t have long to think as he pulled out the flint and tinder. Luna downed a potion of invisibility and vanished. We had to put our faith in her. And as usual, she didn’t let us down, as a moment later blood splattered across the floor and she reappeared behind the armored man with her hood up and a declaration that she was “the Butcher of Balestreet, Bitch”.

The cavalier’s two tiefling thugs tried to flank Luna, but I helped fight off one and Hiskaria finished them with a potshot from outside the door that got him right between the eyes, while Melody swooped in to take a stab at the other.

Luna clearly outmatched the man she was facing, and he was smart enough to realize it. He dropped his weapons, and offered to surrender. He swore if we let him go, he’d never do such a thing again.

The others seemed ready to let their guards down.

I didn’t buy it.

I could feel it. This was an evil man. The kind who would just turn around and do something like this again the second he had an opportunity, if we let him live.

Luna lowered her weapon to go deal with the tiefling thug. I told her what I just wrote, that if we let him go he would just harm others. She said it wasn’t going to be her choice to make.

If anyone was making this choice, it was going to be me, and me alone.

Melody tried to reason that maybe we could get some information out of him. That we could take him alive, and question him. After all, that’s what she was best at.

And then what, I asked her. What do we do with him after that? There weren’t any jails. The city was in chaos. Where do we put him when we’re done questioning him so that he doesn’t hurt anyone else?

He swore again that he’d just go away and be good. I called bullshit.

Melody said maybe he’d know more about the safehouses, or the other plans. What we’d potentially be walking into.

Fine. For the safety of the rest of the group, I’d take him alive.

So I punched the cocky bastard in the face and left him to Melody.

Hiskaria and Luna went about helping the librarians while Melody did her thing. She manacled the man and tied him up for a nice friendly chat. I stuck around. I didn’t trust this man. Kaleb, I learned his name was. Much good it did.

Melody woke him up. First thing he did was tried to play ignorant. Tried to pretend like he’d been possessed, like he hadn’t been in control of his own faculties before.

Bullshit. More lies.

Melody saw through his lies this time just as much as I had. She told him to start over and try again.

Next he tried to weave a sob story about how he’d been coerced into doing what he’d done. How he was a crusader who’s unit had been taken captive, and he’d been forced into committing evil acts out of desperation.

Again, nothing but lies. All he knew how to do was lie, habitually, spew whatever falsehood he thought would get him in our good graces.

When Melody and I called him out on it again, he snapped. In a final act of rebellious desperation, he finally told the truth. He’s nothing but scum of the earth. He was a crusader, and his unit had been wiped out, that was the one honest thing that had left this mouth. Afterwards he’d decided to hedge his bets and side with the demons, so he started committing every atrocity he could to try to win their favor. And he swore that when he died and went to the pits of the Abyss to be reborn he’d come back.

And flay us alive.

Bad choice of words.

I think the bull metaphor before was apt, because I certainly saw red for a moment. I don’t think anyone was in disagreement when I stabbed Radiance through his blackened heart at this point though.

We didn’t learn anything though. Except that he wasn’t a cultist. Just a psychopath who found an excuse to start killing people.

As we discussed our next course of action, the librarian we’d rescued approached us. He knew that Aravashnial was with the Riftwardens, and he knew what had happened to them. The Riftwardens after locking what they could in their vault had teleported to a different location, meaning Aravashnial’s friends were safely somewhere else. Unfortunately, a day later someone else arrived. Xanthir Vang. Another of Deskari’s generals. A worm that walks, a terrible creature that is both a swarm and one being bound to Deskari’s will. Xanthir cut through the floor, right above where the vault would be in the secret Riftwarden floors below, and lifted the entire vault from the floor. Then he ripped it apart like it was nothing. He seemed disappointed that the Riftwardens weren’t there—predictably, I suppose, since he had a personal grudge against them.

We found a single dead and dried up worm husk in a corner of the room. I don’t like this. It’s probably my imagination that my arm itches. Probably. Another of Deskari’s generals so close. That’s…terrifying.

With this information tucked away, we decided to head for Anevia’s home to look for clues of where Commander Tirabade may be. Mostly to make sure her wife was safe, and to inform her of everything we’d found out thus far, and a little tiny bit to ask her about that sword she’d apparently sold behind her back.

On the way, we were accosted by a skeletal demon from atop a building, who also called himself the rat king. He claimed the one we’d defeated before was a usurper, and then summoned a swarm of dire rats to attack us. We dealt with the dire rats handily enough. They took a few chomps at me, annoying little things. Between rats and lizards, do I just taste good or something?

Nope, just licked my hand to test it, I’m quite certain I do not taste good.

We arrived to a small unassuming house. Irabeth’s funds clearly went to things other than worldly possessions. Not that it was a bad house. I’m not trying to be judgmental of Irabeth Tirabade I’m just saying with her position most people would have much larger quarters, so she clearly puts hers to good use elsewhere. I’m not one to judge small living quarters, I live in the barracks. Which probably are in ruins now. Ah, well. Not like I had anything of sentimental value in there anyways. My fiddle, my sword, and my shield were on my person, those were the only things I might have cried over losing. And then my sword got forcefully replaced by a talkative holy blade anyways.

I wish I could say Radiance is growing on me like Horgus. Unfortunately, we got off an extremely wrong foot and they haven’t exactly tried to mend any bridges. Luna says I should be more assertive with them, since I’m the only one who can wield them, they need me to do their holy mission they want. And Radiance even agreed with her, because of course they did.

Figures. A guy tries to be nice to the holy sword who he’ll have to be working with for the foreseeable future and apparently even trying to just not make waves with the being you’ll have to work with talking in your head is the wrong move.

Fine…assertive. What do they want me to do, put Radiance in time out in their little box when they get uppity? That is a funny image though.

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

Right, reread a few paragraphs, Anevia’s house. So, Luna and Melody took a peek inside to make sure nothing was lurking around inside.

Predictably, something was lurking around inside.

He was invisible, but when Melody began using detect evil he ‘pinged’, so she had an idea of where the invisible presence was. The invisible presence summoned a fire beetle outside to attack Anevia, but Hiskaria turned and shot it dead before it got a chance.

Melody and Luna had a good idea where the invisible foe was, and began to force him back into a corner, although their swings of axe and glaive kept hitting nothing but air.

I came in, and I swear to you Iomedae guided Radiance’s blade. Not only did I strike true, from the amount of red that splattered across the ground, I’m certain I hit something vital. That, and I made him very angry. The next thing I saw was an enraged orc, whose invisibility faded away as a blast of fire was released from his hand point blank in my face. Too familiar. Far too familiar. And then darkness.

And then I was awake again, Melody tipping one of my potions into my mouth. Luna had bloodied the orc, but he’d refused to go down in his blind frenzy. Then Hiskaria had stepped in and finished the job.

I proceeded to heal myself a little more thoroughly while the ladies talked to Anevia about what just happened.

Huh, now that Aravashnial and Horgus are gone I am the only guy in the little group of ours, aren’t I?

The prettiest guy in our group by default as well, not that that’s saying much.

Anevia recognized the orc, he was someone who Irabeth had stopped from some previous scheme years back, who she’d left out in the world alive. Apparently, he came back for revenge. He won’t be getting a third chance.

With that settled and no more assassins lurking about, Anevia went to her and Irabeth’s bedroom and opened a secret compartment. Inside she read a note and took out some supplies. She told us that Commander Tirabade and the other remaining Crusaders were hiding out at the Defender’s Heart tavern, and the passcode to get in was “Silverstrong”.

We decided to go straight there, as it was closer than any of the safehouses, and allies were still more useful than victories at the moment.

I was especially feeling that way when that damn skeleton ‘rat king’ showed up again, and threw a flock of vultures at us. Most of which decided to descend upon me. I know vultures are a bad omen but come on, that’s too on the nose even for me. What’s worse? Do you know what’s worse? What’s even worse than vultures? Fiend vultures. These things could smite. I had, no joke, five buzzards smiting me like a bunch of feathery antipaladins.

Just my cursed luck again. Why does Desna hate me?

So, yeah. I was hurting. And really wanting some rest. While everyone else was ready and raring to go for two more safehouses after we finished meeting with the Commander. I finished healing myself again and I was almost tapped out of spells, and completely out of potions. My fervor was wearing thin as well. Luna was all well and good, she didn’t use spells. Hiskaria was fine, she mostly only used her cantrips to empower her bow to fire twice—a neat trick that didn’t really cost her anything. Melody had used one judgement and some spells but she was just fine and equally ready to go.

Ever the weak link.

Eh, no point thinking like that, right? Plenty more happened after that. We arrived to Defender’s Heart and gave them the passcode. They came out to meet us, initially excited to see Anevia.

Then they saw Luna, still with her hood up in her Butcher guise from our fight earlier.

Oops.

We tried to explain that this wasn’t what it looked like. That she wasn’t actually a murderer. That the rumors and stories and reports were wrong. Anevia tried to back us up. Luna took off her hood, and pointed out that she drank one of the two of them under the table at this very tavern just a few days prior, and no one got hurt. Despite our best efforts, tensions were raising. The guards were going for their weapons, and we were surrounded. The paladins were throwing accusations, and no one was listening to our words, they were only hearing what they believed to be true.

Then a strong hand came down on both of the guards’ shoulders. A voice spoke, and told them that maybe sometime they should try actually using the gift Iomedae grants them to detect evil.

Irabeth Tirabade stood behind the two guards, in the flesh, as…everything as I ever would have imagined. Tall, proud, honorable, noble.

The guards scrambled to cast the detect spells, and predictably found that Luna was not evil. They were puzzled but relaxed somewhat. Then jumped and went for their weapons again when they looked in Hiskaria’s direction.

The Commander told them that it was alright, and held up some papers, saying all the paperwork was in order for Hiskaria.

It looked like she was officially Raven Corps now.

Commander Tirabade picked up Anevia and carried her inside, and asked the four of us to follow. She got to quarters where she could lay Anevia down, then turned to me.

And the conversation went something like this.

“Acting Captain of the Raven Corps,” she said.

I was flabbergasted for a moment then realized she had to be talking to me because there was literally no one else she could be talking to. “Me?”

[alternateafterthought]

Arcane - Part 4

ARCANE

Ø  Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø  Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø  Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø  Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø  Warnings: None

Ø  Word Count: 1380

Ø  A/N: Hey guys… here is the next part of my Min Yoongi fic!! So this is more of a filler part!! I’m currently writing the next part and it should be posted in the next week or so!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

PREV / NEXT

As the elevator doors opened on the 28th floor, neither Y/N nor Yoongi could breath easily just yet. Y/N’s mother walked in front of them, expecting them to continue following her as she walked with a purpose. Her shoulders were straight, her head held high, the complete opposite to Yoongi who slumped as he walked, finding comfort in Y/N.

Y/N could practically feel the tension on Yoongi, making sure she was barely a half step in front of him. She allowed him to almost press his chest against her back as they walked, this wasn’t the most ideal situation to have a hybrid with an unfortunate past in. Y/N was prouder of the fact that Yoongi sort some form of comfort from Y/N instead of turning and running.

“Mother.” Y/N stopped, Yoongi running into her back, she was quick to help steady him in front of one of the doors. “Yoongi and I have to wait in my room.”

Y/N looked behind her, sneaking a look at Yoongi as she looked down the fairly illuminated hall they just walked down. Being as high up as they were, there was less around them, massive windows letting in natural light, only 8 rooms on this floor. Y/N was smart enough to have gotten a room for herself, even with an extra room for Yoongi, having thought ahead if she did in fact leave with a hybrid. Everything pretty, open, too perfect even with no shade.

“We can talk in your father and I’s room.” Y/N’s mother folded her hands in front of her again as she stared Y/N down.

“Yoongi and I have to wait for hotel staff to come and fix Yoongi’s room. I would like to be there in decision making for my hybrid.” Y/N felt one of Yoongi’s hands pull on her cardigan. “He is, of course, now my responsibility.”

“Y/N, this is not up for discussion. We will be talking no matter how much you try to prevent it.” Her mother’s tone sharp, definitive. “And your new pet will not stop that.”

Y/N was quick, subtle, in the way she held onto Yoongi’s hand behind her back. She could physically feel the growl building in Yoongi’s chest as he moved closer to Y/N, almost wanting to lash out. From the sounds passing through Yoongi and the way her mother paid absolutely no attention to him, like he wasn’t a threat, Y/N could only pray that nothing happened until they got back home.

“You may not like it, you may not agree with it, and you may not understand it,” Y/N rolled her shoulders, standing tall against her mother, showing no weakness like she was taught to do. “But Yoongi is not nor will he ever be a pet. He may be a hybrid, but he is also human, and you will show him the respect he deserves as a human who associates with your daughter.” There was so much Y/N could push under the rug, but disrespecting another person was where she drew the line. “Now, if you don’t mind, Yoongi and I need to get to our room,” She pointed over her mother’s shoulder to where her room was. “We can talk at dinner or tomorrow before we go home.”

“Very well.”

Y/N watched as her mother barely acknowledged Yoongi with a look and nodded at her daughter before they walked past her. Y/N made sure to walk a little faster, opening her door and allowing Yoongi to walk in before her. Looking back with a nod to her mother who continued to watch, Y/N finally closed the door, letting out a much-needed breath as she leaned against the door, closing her eyes.

Raising her hand, Y/N sat it against her chest, feeling the flutter of her heart. Taking a few more deep breaths before opening her eyes to see Yoongi watching her, he looked almost concerned. Shaking it off a little, Y/N stood taller before moving around Yoongi into the middle of the suite.

“We’re only staying the night, then we flying out tomorrow around lunch.” Y/N could see Yoongi wanted to ask something. “You won’t need a passport or anything to identify you.” Y/N moved forward, silently asking if she could take Yoongi’s leash off, with a nod she continued to talk. “With your documents I signed you only need my permission. When we get home, I can get you any identification you need.”

“So…” Yoongi only spoke when Y/N’s back was turned, setting the collar and leash next to her back on the couch. “Your mother, she doesn’t like hybrids, does she?”

“Funnily enough, she loves hybrids.” Y/N turned back to look at the disbelief on Yoongi’s face. “She’s not very openly emotional, her own parents weren’t people you would go to for emotional advice.”

“That’s something I could believe.” Yoongi seemed to tighten his hold on his backpack he still hadn’t taken off.

“She just… well you saw her with me,” Y/N pointed towards the door before looking back at him. “Why don’t you put your bag in your room? We can rest a bit and maybe have something to eat and then I was thinking we could maybe do some shopping for you?”

“What do you mean shopping?” Yoongi looked confused.

“Well I kinda don’t own guys clothes, and you need things for your room and stuff, right?” Y/N asked, walking him to his room for the night. “I mean I did some research before looking into this whole thing, and you’re a lot more sensitive to touch and taste and all that right?”

Yoongi nodded, looking around the room, letting his finger lightly touch the bed; “Yeah, hybrids are pretty sensitive to things.”

Hearing a knock on the door Y/N smiled at Yoongi; “That should be hotel staff bringing the hybrid friendly sheets and blankets for you, we’ll order something to eat after and then we can go shopping.”

With a nod from Yoongi, Y/N moved to the door and allowed the hotel staff entry to the suite. They politely bowed to Y/N, even greeted Yoongi before changing his bed sheets and making it all hybrid friendly for him. Ordering food was simple enough, Yoongi happily eating whatever Y/N ordered for him, even though she tried to ask him what he wanted. He was too embarrassed to admit he had never had, never so much as heard more then half the things she had offered to get him. He had simply allowed her to order for him, trusting her judgement, trusting her so quickly to meeting her.

He quite liked it, feeling so comfortable and safe with Y/N so quickly. She may hide things from him, but what human or hybrid doesn’t hide something away from the other. Yet, none of that mattered. Not to Yoongi. Not when Y/N so willingly put herself in front of her own mother to make sure he was respected, to make sure he was comfortable and giving him something as simple as a hybrid friendly bed to sleep on.

That bed would be the best thing he ever lay his head on and he wished the others could have come with him. As he sat on the edge of his bed, he had pulled out the photo the boys had given him before he left, all 7 of them happily smiling at the camera. He wished they could have seen this, see him here, see just how amazing Y/N was, even after only knowing her for a few hours. He hopes that it doesn’t change, he couldn’t afford another heartbreak like that.

“Yoongi?” Y/N knocked on the door before poking her head in. “I’m ready if you are.”

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

Yoongi had long hoped that his life had stayed the same, living the rest of his life in that shelter. He had never thought that a beautiful, kind, caring girl would ever come into his life the way Y/N had. She was, as it were, someone he could actually get attached to, someone he could trust.

As he followed her out of their hotel room, a peaceful smile on her face, Yoongi was in trouble of really trusting her. He just hoped she could trust him, that she would never let him go.

Tag List

@ariana-winchester95​ | @haven-raven012591​ | @gracehiii​ | @larenelizabeth​ | @legazix​​ | @jiminot7​​ | @narcissism-iskey​​ | @aileanagreene​ | @marvelstuck​​ | @sana-b​​ | @jisoosbitch​ | @dabmeifyoucan​ | @hoseokslefteyebrow​ | @kookie-vuitton​ | @namjoonies-dimple​ | @wrecklesseuphoria​ | @wheredoiwhaaat25​ | @lorielulu7​ |

[thefugitivemango]

Tower Ascendance - Pt IV

[[ Co-written with @sylaess​ / @sylaesschasewind​ & @kidcatgemini  /@codegemini​ ]]

|| PART I || PART II || PART III ||

~*~

Sinafay was quick to act. Even without weapons, she rushed at the winged figure, but was immediately knocked back by one of its powerful wings. She hit the wall and landed next to a crushed animated armor… well, not animated any longer, most likely cut down by Argonas on his way in. Her hand reached out and took hold of the depleted armor’s weapon, a large axe. 

Convenient.

She grinned. 

The Vindicator took hold of the Mawsworn’s foot as it was pressed to his bare chest. He strained, resisting being stomped further into the ground. Thankfully, he was sturdier than the fallen Kyrian had anticipated. In a quick, fluid motion, he twisted the foot! 

*CRRKKK*

The Mawsworn let out an echoed squeal of pain, rivaled in volume only by the sickening cracking and snapping of its ankle bones and tendons! Immediately, it flapped its wings to get airborne once more, and take the weight of its now-broken foot!

Argonas scrambled to his hooves shortly after, and reclaimed his shield and mace. The Light coursed through him, shining brightly in the otherwise dim place. A show of force… and also a distraction, he hoped.

“Strike fast when you can, then fall back!” he instructed his companions. “I will keep its focus!”

With that, he hurled a Light-borne hammer upward at the tainted Ascendant-- exploding on the impact and knocking the winged abettor back slightly further as sparks of Light showered about it. He definitely had its attention now!

Sylaess had to squint at the shower of Light. Her twin blades were in her hands instinctively. Feet were already moving. For one reason or another, this felt far more comfortable to her than the dread and wonder. Maybe it was a familiar action or the affirmation of danger. Or literally just her swords in her hands and no need to keep puzzling out this wretched tower. The Mawsworn cursed in her shriek of surprise and agony, those wings sweeping in almost defensively as she hurled herself backwards. Or was hurled on the hammer express. Hard to say. The elf caught a glance of that shadow magic forming around the Darksworn’s hands. Heard the quiet words start forming. Ah, shit. “Argonas, ‘ware!”

It was a lot like twisting her skin tightly across her skull, agitating that permanent migraine she’d been nursing this whole time into a dull roar. One leap--felt her lips peel back over her teeth in a rictus snarl as she cast her own spell. Runes barely glimmered. But it went off. The death grip. Yanking her attention with tainted arcane. Felt like being lit up by a search beacon. Syl did not like it. ‘You should know my name is Corrus. I will not permit you to leave.’

The unwanted thought was as intrusive as a finger in the eye. Syl’s swords crashed into the Mawsworn’s spear harmlessly--but she’d interrupted the cast at least. Landed on her feet and danced aside before she could be taken by a swing from that very unfriendly looking spear. “--I don’t give a shit who you are. Get out of my way.”

Sinafay grunted, her spiritual form and time spent in the Maw causing her to tremble under the voice in her head. A pause was all it granted the Mawsworn as she shook it off and charged it from behind.

Unfortunately the shaman lacked the physical strength she had in life. Her blow landed, but was easily deflected by the assailant’s armor. He paid her no mind, his concentration set on the bigger threat, the large Light wielding Draenei in front of him. She huffed, frustrated, taking a few steps back, before charging again.

This time, she jumped up and swung down at one of the Mawsworn’s powerful wings. Success! It cut through part way before getting stuck, lodged in the wound.

Grounded and limping, Corrus found herself at a sudden disadvantage. The opening Sinafay provided was all Argonas needed to reinforce the notion-- a low sweep of his hammer took the remaining good leg out from under the Mawsworn, causing her to topple helplessly. Unable to stand, unable to get aloft… the disgraced Kyrian was in trouble! 

Argonas’ attack didn’t end there, either; as Corrus fell, the Draenei raised his shield up over her before bringing it down on its edge. Once, twice, battering Corrus with a series of painful impacts. She failed in any attempt to block, only able to free herself from beneath the Vindicator’s beratement with a sudden flap of her remaining good wing. Enough wind kicked up to cause Argonas to stumble back a step as the shield caught the gust over his head. She kicked away from him, and shrieked.

“You miserable mortals! I may have underestimated your tenacity, but no amount of fight will free you from your fate! Your souls will never escape the torment of this tower!”

The Mawsworn rose-- not by her wings, but by something else. She hovered a meter or so off the ground, a sickening energy permeating the air around her. Then, a dark haze-like shield surrounded Corrus as she began uttering another incantation! 

Her blades were up--but the sweep of the shield, the words... Sylaess grit her teeth. Found herself backing up from the sight, fighting off a wave of nauseating memories. A sort of bitten off shout was trapped between her clenched jaws, low and continuous. She simply held her swords.

Sinafay swung again with the axe, but the weapon only bounced uselessly on Corrus’ shield. A chill went down her spine as the energy in the room darkened. She looked towards Argo and Syl.

“Take cover! Now!”

She ran towards Syl, motioning for Argo to do the same.

“Shield!”

As she said the words, the room’s ceiling seemed to open up and dark energy enhanced spears began to rain down.

The Draenei raised his physical shield up overhead, cradling the Death Knight and the soul of his beloved close-- as close as he could for a soul, anyway. The dark spears were met with a brilliant Light that emanated from the Vindicator. An incandescent shield expanded over the trio, shielding them from the hail of blackened death! 

“NO!” Corrus shrieked in frustration! “Why won’t you fools just submit!”

Her power expended, she fell back to the ground, collapsing to a kneel. Her foot was still mangled. Her wing torn. She glared from beneath her darkened helmet at Sylaess, Argonas, and the soul she sought to keep imprisoned here. 

She was no match.

“This isn’t over!” she left them with her vague threat, before a familiar darkness overcame her-- not empowering her, but translocating her to elsewhere in the tower.

The fight was finished.

“Is everyone alright?” Argonas asked, glancing between Sylaess and Sinafay.

The elf blinked, peering after Corrus a long moment while she escaped from the closeness of others. The cacophony of spirits was getting louder and harder to block out. She shook her head, jostling herself back into thought. “Leave while we have a breath to do so.” Her swords rested in her hands as an afterthought. No; this would be the best chance she had, after all. ‘You can’t. You have to leave here, find him.’

Flat black eyes stared almost through the wisp, listening to the calm voice. The gentleness. A tone of caring, of love. Heartbreak. Familiarity. That empty calm seemed to mute the world around her in the moment like a thick blanket. She knew what to do. “I’ve got one last thing to do here. It isn’t ethical. So take your chance to leave--they come few and far between after all.”

‘Don’t do this to me. These are other souls!’

It didn’t matter what either of them did from here on out, she took a few steps back into the chamber. Settled her shoulders and shut the world out. Relatively. The spirits were chattering agitatedly. Took a slow breath in, and focused. Just like the Ebon ritualists had shown her. Breathe in. Empty mind. 

Would it even work?

Don’t worry about that. Just try.

‘Syl, no.’

Her breath tumbled out slowly, deliberately. Words chasing the end of it. “You don’t get that choice. They’re beyond saving.”

A steady trickle of power thrumming up through her swords. The pale icy gleam of runes, pre-written spells, coming to a guttering life in a deliberate pattern.

Sinafay’s moon-eyed look had been back on Argonas. Seeing him in action in all his Light filled glory was a sight she would never tire of. She grinned, elated. Finally, they would be out of the tower and out of the Maw! All her years of suffering were about to come to an end!

But, again, the air in the room changed, and she glanced over to Sylaess, worry and confusion set on her features.

“Syl? What are you doing?”

“Sylaess!” Argonas called out as well, brow furrowed.

He didn’t like this one bit. He knew the Death Knight was a variable from the start, but… to turn back and rush further into the tower so close to escape? He couldn’t believe it! What was she thinking!? Had she completely lost her mind?

Well… maybe, now that he thought about it. She wasn’t exactly holding it together before they arrived here, as he recalled.

Still, he had prepared for this possibility. Nothing would stop him from getting Sinafay out of this accursed place-- not even Sylaess. He decided several corridors back that if it came to saving Sinafay or saving Sylaess, he wouldn’t hesitate. And it seemed that moment was upon them now.

“... Damn it!” he cursed, before turning back towards the exit. “Quickly, Sina. We may not have much time!”

Sinafay shook her head, concerned gaze meeting his, fists clenched at her side. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her friend in this terrible place.

“No!” she answered, stubborn as ever, “We cannot just leave her here!”

“We have no choice!” Argonas scowled back. “She can take care of herself. But we must get you out of here!”

“I will not leave her!” came her reply, stomping a hoof down in frustration before turning to make her way towards her friend.

“Sinafay, get the fuck out of here while you have a chance.” Calm and still. Right. She looked at her swords again, keeping herself mostly turned from the pair. “I don’t intend to linger. Just go, I’ll catch up. I need to help him first.” 

The air around her was sharp with cold. Frost was growing off of her armor surprisingly fast. Had to focus. Draw whatever else she could to pull enough power, enough spirits nearby for this. It would be much easier if Sinafay wasn’t near.

“Fuck that! I am NOT leaving!”

“Yes you are.”

Suddenly, Sinafay was halted by something; a bar? A pole? A spear. Argonas knew he couldn’t touch her, himself. To a mortal like him, a soul was intangible. But the Mawsworn had weapons that both souls and mortals were affected by. Both could touch. In her haste, Corrus left behind her spear. It would have to do.

He made quick work of it, bending and folding the spear like a pretzel, wrapping it around Sinafay at her arms and chest. It worked! He could take hold of her now, by the darkened metal rod wrapped tightly around her.

“Forgive me, but I am not about to let you stay in this place!”

“NO!” She let out a frustrated shout, “Argo, let me go!”

He brought Sinafay up over his shoulder, handling her by the metal which bound her, and turned to depart-- but not without casting one more glance back at Sylaess. He didn’t like whatever it was she was doing. The aura felt malicious. As malicious as anything they had encountered in the tower already. Whatever she was doing, he knew it was best if he didn’t see it…

“Be quick, Sylaess.” were the only instructions he muttered. “Do not die… again…”

The elf didn’t so much as flinch at him. She sat on the floor with a sigh and put the hilt of her sword in her mouth and bit down. Hard. The runes were dizzy bright now, the spirits were losing it.

Resigned to the tumble of events.

‘You can’t do this!’ ‘I made the choice a few minutes ago, catch up. If I don’t, you’re gone. You’ll be gone the moment I walk out those doors if this doesn’t go on.’

She shut her eyes against the wisp’s insistent fluttering. The muscles of her jaw contort, knotting. As if words were trying to spill out but were stopped by her claim on the hilt. A snarl formed in her throat, breath hissing out of her nose and mouth. A splintering sound--

There was a long moment of silence. An absence of the crowd of fragmented spirits. She sagged, spitting out what was probably fragments of a tooth, or metal. Didn’t care to check. But Solieyu was there in a truer form. Standing. Staring in disbelief and dismay.

One more sharp breath drawn in, and she spits the pommel out. Wiping her chin with the back of a hand.

[the-wardens-torch]

((About 1-2 years after the copper bell mines incident, based on a Lenormand card reading done for Fal by @adeat. The reading made a lot of sense to me, and really inspired me, but I stalled on the ending due to my usual process of waffling and wavering about locking down plot details. I think I might be ready to commit though after working on this a bit more.. over the course of 3 years *hangs head in shame*.))

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you actually nervous about a job, Fal.” Sunnthota’s tone was at once surprised and concerned.  “You’ve never been the type to be intimidated by people of intellect or status.”

Falerin’s shoulders slumped involuntarily as he took a seat on the polished white lacquer of the piano bench, looking at the instrument without really seeing it.

“Well, you didn’t tell me that they were all…” he raised his hand and moved it in small circles as he mentally pushed aside all the insulting names he had for pretentious academics. “Adepts of the arcane arts... I figured that it was just the usual idle rich socialite gig until I saw this place…”

Fal warily eyed his surroundings; the framed diagrams in place of wall dressings and curtains, the bookshelves in places of statuary, the artifacts under glass in place of floral arrangements.

Sunnthota shook her head abashedly. “The Mealvaan’s Gate brass needed a good piano player for an event and you were the first one who came to mind.  And I suppose I sort of assumed everyone knew that this place was a library.  I thought your accepting meant you might be ready to get serious about your arcanima studies, or that you were at least willing to spend some time around mage-folk. ”

“No, I’m not. These aren’t my people and they never will be.”  Falerin tugged at the immaculately white cravat around his neck as if to illustrate his point.

“I don’t like playing the dowdy schoolmarm any more than you like playing the reluctant student, you know.  Its silly.” Sunnthota crossed her arms defiantly, adjusting them so as not to crease her spring green taffeta sleeves.  “But perhaps you can think of it this way…I thought you’d appreciate getting away from the adventurer life and doing an old-fashioned music gig.  Every time I see you you‘re complaining about all the killing and dungeons and… near-death experiences.” There was a touch of melancholy in her last few words, no doubt referencing their unpleasant shared history as adventurers.

“Eh, you’re right…“ Fal sighed. and uncovered the keys of the piano. Not a single one was chipped, and they lay in such perfect alignment that he could barely feel the gaps between them. It was exquisite. He hadn’t had even played a piano in so long, let alone been paid to play one… And the pay wasn’t bad for simply being part of the ambiance.  “But what about Ruby…?” he said. “You yourself said you‘d be fascinated to see what her aetherial makeup is. She already gets stares whenever she‘s out, just among ordinary folks.”

Sunnthota then caught him with her scolding schoolmarm gaze. “Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous… really, most of them are so far up their own arses they won’t even notice you’re here, let alone her. Besides, arcanima is a very mercurial thing that can manifest in many forms - they’ll probably just think you’ve got a glamour spell cast on an -egi or a faerie.”

Falerin sighed, adjusting the satin cuff of his sleeve to further conceal the tiny, glowing entity hiding in it.  He realized now that Sunn was absolutely right about their schoolmarm and student dynamic, and he didn’t like it.  They’d been friends a long time and the least he could do was trust her. Besides, he’d grown quite good at hiding Ruby over the years.

“Eh, you’re probably right. I just feel like if I call attention to myself, it’d be like gathering a bunch of classical composers, trying to impress them with armpit fart noise versions of their most moving concertos, and telling them you were my music teacher.”

Sunnthota smirked. “Well, I would still call that an exaggeration, but at least you’re starting to sound more like yourself. And besides, the guild doesn’t even know I‘ve been teaching you arcanima…”  Sunnthota uncrossed her arms and raised her hand to her lips before mumbling the words …“without their permission.“  She furrowed her brow slightly before meeting his eyes again.

“I know you, Fal, and that means I know that you‘re clever enough to make it work. Remember that Monetarist party?  You sang gibberish, told them it was an old Belah’Dian dialect, and they still applauded you when you were done.”

Fal raised the back of his hand to his mouth to conceal the smile and faint nose-laugh prompted by the memory… He did consider that one of his prouder moments, and she knew it.

She smiled again and placed a hand on his shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle and sincere. “Just the same, I’m sorry to have put you in this situation. I honestly didn’t think it would make you so uncomfortable.”

“Its fine, Sunn. I‘m just being a little shit, like you said.“ Falerin ran his fingers gently over the piano keys again. He could tell by their weight and warmth that they were solid ivory, and by the lack of wear that the instrument was rarely, if ever, played. “I’m sure they wouldn’t waste their time on me, and I‘m certainly not going to volunteer anything.  You‘re just about the last person I want to cause trouble for.” He reached back over his shoulder and placed his hand on hers, realizing a bit too late that his palms were slightly sweaty.

“Just try to relax and enjoy yourself and I’m sure it won‘t even be an issue.  I should get to the foyer and start greeting people, but I’ll try to swipe a drink for you later. ” she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

“Much obliged, Sunn… Any requests once this thing gets started? Or when I remember how to play a piano?”  Fal asked over his shoulder.

Sunnthota hesitated for only a second. “Well, I know it’s a bit sentimental for an intellectual gathering, but how about Rose of May?” Sunnthota replied. “I haven’t heard it in ages.”

“Sure thing.” Fal smiled. “And don’t worry about what I said earlier.  I’d be a right bastard if I ever let you down over something as dumb as a party gig.”

“Thank you Fal.  I really do appreciate this!“ she said, clenching her fists with girlish excitement.  “I was trying to make you feel better with that head and arse comment, but there really are some people here I‘m just dying to talk to.” She took a short moment to clear her throat and compose herself before she ran off, her shoes drumming rhythmically on the white stone floor. Clearly she was hiding her excitement about this event for his sake… Clearly she was also quite capable of moving at great speeds while in heels.

[packsbeforesnacks]

Inside You There Are Two Wolves || Adam, Cece, Darwin, Nell, Ulfric, & Winn

[Part One | Part Two] [Side B]

TIMING: Sunday, July 19th, 2020, Sunset LOCATION: A clearing in the Outskirts. PARTIES: @walker-journal, @thebickedwitchoftherest, @wardinasrani, @nelllraiser, @big-bad-ulf, & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: The ritual to recover Winn’s memories goes very, very wrong. WARNINGS: None.

Everything was in place, the way it was meant to be, in the small clearing Winn had chosen as the place for the ritual. At first Darwin had been a little hesitant: a memory journey was always tricky, even with just one mind to explore, but travelling through two minds? So many things could go wrong that he refused to think about it, let alone share his doubts with the participants. At least Darwin wasn't alone: granted, he'd guide the ritual, he'd keep the connection stable, but two others would fuel his magic, and the help of Nell and Otto had been invaluable, really; the procedure was fairly simple, but knowing he wouldn't have to rely only on himself made Darwin's task easier. Darwin looked at the four unconscious bodies of Noah, Arthur, Mercy and Winn, carefully arranged on the ground in a sort of cross, their heads touching. Right now they looked peaceful, sleeping a dreamless sleep thanks to the magic they casted, but Darwin knew that was going to change soon.

“Well, here we go.” Darwin addressed Nell and Cece, his lips a thin line. “I'm going to join them. I don't know what we'll find inside, but whatever happens, you two will need to keep the flow of energy going. If the magic stops we could be trapped; it doesn't have to be a lot of energy, but it has to be stable. I, of course, will do my best on my side, but... Like I said, we can't foresee what will happen there.” Darwin wasn't a fan of putting his mind in the hands of others, but Nell had proved to be reliable, and at least they had backup. Speaking of, he turned to Adam (another person he knew would take his task seriously) and Ulfric. “To make this journey possible there'll be lots of magic involved. And we're not dealing with simple humans here, so... Be ready for anything. I'd like for us to still have a body to return to, if you know what I mean.” Sharing a meaningful look with the other magic users, one that let them know he was about to begin, Darwin sat down between Mercy and Winn, and placed one hand on each of their foreheads. “Wish us luck,” he murmured before closing his eyes and focusing, ready to begin.

Certainly, Nell wasn’t Winn’s biggest fan, but she also wasn’t one to stand by and let someone have their memories locked away while wanting them back. Still— the entire memory debacle with August had left her apprehensive when it came to do any magic that might even be remotely similar, and it had only been under the reassurance that she’d be more power source than anything that she’d agreed to partake. After all, her track record with memories and magic wasn’t exactly squeaky clean, and the last thing she wanted to do was make things worse. Nevertheless, she let her magic flow through her to join Darwin’s and Cece’s. “We won’t let you guys get lost in there.” As for possible complications cropping up, that was something Nell had more confidence with. “And we’ll make sure he’s got enough fur on him to survive the winter when it’s all done,” she joked with a deadpan look. Then she was silent, letting her own eyes drop closed as she focused only on giving Darwin the power he’d need, glad that her magic had recovered decently enough after all of the recent debacles.

Adam glanced to Ulfric, feeling the ice-hot burn of the larger man's inhuman presence, a twin to the constant discomfort Winn produced in Adam’s Hunter senses. He had no idea what this guy was, but hopefully the ginger giant was strong enough to deal with whatever Total Recall craziness was about to go down without also being hungry enough to eat the sleepers.

Regardless, Adam listened to Darwin’s explanation of the proceedings carefully, having come to trust the Demonologist’s expertise during a particularly harrowing assignment to close a Hell Rift. This was a complex ritual to say the least. On one hand, it was interesting to see all the folks that’d turned up to help when Winn had… like… a forced brain transplant into Mercy because of bird bookends or something. Most of them, Adam knew, some in contexts that’d given no hint to the abilities on display here.  

Nothing like some communal lobotomy to bring folks together.

The axe holstered at Ulfric’s waist hung heavily, seeming to absorb the weight of the situation. In this clearing, the familiar tool would become a tool of execution. There had been more formidable options to choose from in the buried stash of weapons the werewolf had found amongst Celeste’s parents' things, but if the worst occurred here he did not want Winn to go out by a hunter’s blade. In fact, he would’ve preferred not to bring a weapon at all, besides his natural ones. However, there were too many others assembled for this ritual, some of whom he’d never met before and more still who weren’t aware of his true nature. It wouldn’t have been wise to expose himself even if there wasn’t a high risk that shifting would result in the rest of the attendees ending up as collateral mincemeat.

He glanced at Adam, hoping that Winn was right about the boy’s ability to defend himself and the sleepers. The younger werewolf hadn’t given Ulfric any reason not to trust his judgement recently, but he couldn’t sense any shifter in Adam, which did raise questions about why he’d been chosen to take up the role of bodyguard opposite him. Returning his gaze to Darwin, he paid close attention to the spellcaster’s words, wanting to keep the chances of anything going wrong as low as possible. He’d never even considered taking a fellow wolf’s life before Winn’s request, and he was still vehemently disinclined to cross that threshold. “Lykke til,” he nodded solemnly to Darwin to indicate that he understood both the content and gravity of his instructions, wishing him luck as he joined the four in their slumber.

Winn sure had assembled a ragtag group of people together to get this job done. Cece recognized a few of them. Mostly, Cece was just happy to not be the one leading the charge for this mental magic. Cece had more experience with taking memories than piecing them back together. She was fairly confident that she could do it, if required. But having someone specialize in it was way more helpful. Plus, as far as safety went Cece would much rather be chilling outside of Winn’s body instead of roaming around in that head of his. She didn’t need to know all that information.

Luckily, this Darwin fellow was taking the lead and Cece was more than happy to be a power conduit. She sat cross-legged on the forest floor, peaking an eye open at the group surrounding Winn. Into the dreamworld they go, Cece supposed. “Just a heads up to any non magic users,” Cece glanced over at Adam, and probably Ulfric, “If you haven’t been in any spells like this before. We know you don’t use magic, but we can still borrow some of your strength to help the spell. So just keep calm and focused with us. All of us will be happy and healthy at the end with everyone participating.” If things went smoothly. Did things ever go smoothly?

Wind blew through the forest as the ritual thrummed to life. The bodies of the sleepers were illuminated in the late afternoon sun cutting through the curtain of the trees overhead. The air buzzed with the presence of the magic, and, if anyone had been watching Winn’s face closely, they would have noticed a frown on the werewolf’s face.

Then, the crackle changed, the mood of the energy shifting down into something darker. Mercy’s face, previously serene, was frowning now, too. The ritual was underway, and the sleepers were making their way through the dreamscape. But then, the unexpected happened.

Winn sat up, and opened his eyes. There were no signs of life from him, other than the steady up and down breathing of his chest, the unblinking stare into the middle distance, and the way that, if you looked closely, his fingernails were lengthening, slowly, into claws. Behind him, something like a black mist rose from the centerpoint of the spell, covering the ground like rolling fog.

The forest had gone cold.

Even though Nell wasn’t the most comfortable with memory magic, she could feel the way it was shifting between them as Darwin worked, feeling it take form and shape as she quite literally powered on, keeping her intentions in line with what they were trying to accomplish here. But her eyes opened as she felt the twist in it, a potential unwanted result coming to fruition bringing her own little frown to her lips to unknowingly mirror Winn’s and Mercy’s. “Something’s happening,” she said aloud, eyes already scanning the faces of those that had been put under for this mission for anything that might tell a story as to what was going wrong. As she watched, she locked onto the claws sprouting from Winn. “Adam,” she spoke with a  warning tone in her voice, tilting her head in the direction of the werewolf’s hands. “His claws.” She wouldn’t tear herself away from Darwin and Cece just yet, not when it seemed there was still the potential to keep things under control.

Adam, sage of the arcane that he was, could generally identify a couple key indicators of when wizard shit was headed sideways. For example anything with creepy children or dramatic laser beams into the sky was like DEFCON 1 as far as Satanic tailgate parties went. Bloody writing on the wall in ancient languages was a good indicator that someone needed to be shanked back into their home dimension, as were well-endowed chicks with psychic powers making narcoleptic predictions about the ‘master’s arrival.’

Black mist? Bad Sign.

Hot Turkish girl saying his name in a way that really made Adam feel….

Oh wait, bad sign today.

Damn it Nell.

Clearly Adam’s secret wolf wrassling skills were needed and the Hunter was quick to hustle to Winn’s side before the sleepwalking…sleepslashing?...of other participants could transpire. He attempted to hold Winn’s arms in place.

Ulfric winced at little as the blonde witch, who he deduced must have Cece, called on them to ‘lend some of their strength’. He’d only just managed to win it back, and with the new moon looming he still only possessed a fraction of what he would when it was full. But if there was anything he’d be willing to lay it all on the line again for, it would be another wolf, one he was bonded to in both word and blood. Bowing his head, he concentrated on keeping his thoughts centred on the desired outcome of the spell, just as he had the last time when he’d been helping Ariana and Celeste before—Focus. That is not focus. He internally chided himself for letting his mind wander away from the present moment, just as Winn jerked upright, claws extending.

Ulfric rushed to his other side without any further thought. The balance of magic had been disturbed and knowing whether his slip in intentions had contributed to it wouldn’t save his friend. “Come on, Woods, you told me yourself you can control this,” he urged the young werewolf, grabbing one arm so Adam could focus his efforts on the other. “You know how!” With his words and thoughts, he willed it to be true, willed that the memories Winn already had access to would triumph over the ones that had been locked away.

“Son of a bitch” Cece sighed. Wolf Winn clearly didn’t want to cooperate as much as person Winn did. Whether this was some alter ego lashing out at the idea of recovering memories or just a reaction to whatever was happening inside of that fucked up head of his, things would turn dangerous real quickly if Adam and Ulfric couldn’t calm him down. “Keep the spell going,” Cece spoke to Nell, breaking off for a moment to rummage in her purse and pull out a vial of powder. She popped the lid off of the vial, pouring the powder onto the ground. She grabbed for her keys, pressing the point against the tip of her palm. She pushed deep, twisting the key until she felt the skin break. She made a fist over the powder, squeezing tightly until blood dripped from her hand and into the powder. She pressed her finger deep into the mixture, mumbling Latin to herself until the new substance began smoking, then she dragged it across the ground, forming a barrier around herself before moving towards Nell.

“This should keep things out for now, but it won’t work forever, if he breaks free and comes after us.” Cece spoke mechanically, not wanting to break Nell’s focus, simply inform her of what Cece had been doing. As far as protection spells went, this wasn’t the strongest. It was purely for emergency situations only. It wouldn’t hold up against an onslaught by wolves. “You can step out, but nothing can get in. Unless they break it.” That cheery thought out of the way, Cece jumped back into her circle and sat back down, joining back in on the spell.

Magic crackled through the air with warning, the fog of the black mist had engulfed the clearing, settling on the ground in an ever-present wash — save for the circle Cece had created. Though, perhaps, outside, the sun was still shining, the rays of ‘light’ coming into the clearing through the trees were violet, the trees themselves becoming twisted and black. The grass beneath Cece’s feet was still green and lit by the sun, unaffected, but darkness fell on the rest of the assembled friends, painting the world in grim tones. Winn, or Winn’s body, was still, for a moment.

But then, Winn let out a gasp of pain as a thicker, darker mist pulsed out of the epicenter of the spell, his form trembling. Eyes that had been glazed over lit up with panicked recognition, as he surveyed the scene before him.

“Get away,” Winn said, fast and quiet, his body shaking against the force of Adam and Ulfric’s hold, now. His breath was golden-hued, slipping out when he spoke. “No time. They’re… coming.” The golden breath, time, was rapidly running out, and the new mist began to curl in and around Winn’s form, covering his skin with a sticky, black-blue liquid. His hands, the first to get covered, curled inward, and began to change. Into… something.

“It’ll… get…. you… too,” Winn grit out, trying to keep the mist from sliding down his throat, infecting him with its magic. His unfocused eyes hinted that the werewolf hadn’t ‘woken up,’ so much as been able to communicate, somehow, through the spell. And then, as the last of his breath wisped away, he coughed and gasped, inhaling a lungful of the mist. It came more quickly now, spurred by this invitation, and Winn’s body, with a growl, began to transform more fully.

It wasn’t the wolf, not quite, there was something… off, about it. Something that seemed to cut angles into Winn’s form that shouldn’t have been there. Elements of both of the werewolf’s forms made it in. The strong, lupine claws, golden eyes, a coat of black, black fur, and big, vicious teeth. But it was lithe, coiled, like a human, and, as it ripped its arms from Ulfric and Adam’s grasps — with a firm snap, like it had broken something — it leapt across the clearing, landing to stand, the mist clearing from its body, but not dissipating, no.

The mist poured out from the creature born from Winn, and into twin pools of black ink. Here, at the confluence of the ancient magic, the sheer power of the assembled casters, hunter, and wolf, the valkyrie’s kindling, and… something deeper and darker, buried in the fabric of White Crest itself, they could come free.

Winn’s dreams gave them form, these half-shadows, and they warped into grisly manifestations. A human, with slashes down his exposed chest. A werewolf, transformed, dripping black blood from its neck. They spared a single, venomous glance at the creature that had once been Winn Woods… and then rushed Adam and Ulfric with inhuman speed.

Nell knew the magical black mist couldn’t have come from their end of the spell, which made her assume this was simply a manifestation of Mercy’s abilities, subconsciously fighting back on this breach to keep their hold on the memories that they were trying to unlock. For a moment, she thought back to Erin’s father and the wish magic they’d faced there, wondering how she’d managed to get caught up in two fury debacles in the last few months. But that didn’t matter now.

Winn’s words and the wolf’s leap didn’t bode well for their bunch, and Nell turned her back on the magic for a split second to launch a blast of magic towards the wolf’s side in an attempt to knock it off balance, hoping to give Adam and Ulfric any time they might need to prepare themselves for the apparently imminent fight to come after the wolf had wrenched itself out from under them. The rest of her magic was still focused on the spell, continuing to be the battery pack that Darwin needed in this moment as she looked over her shoulder at the action, deciding whether or not she should give Cece the reins for a few moments.

Given the tendency of magic to stick a taser up physic’s asshole without using a safe word, Adam hadn’t brought any firearms to Winn-intervention (Winntervention?) just in case bullet trajectories went all non-Euclidean.  

Thus, Adam drew two silver versions of modernized Ka-Bar tactical knives, weapons of straightforward brutality and cutting edge material’s science that would’ve made good on Adam’s promise to make Winn’s death as painless as possible.

But even as the lupine nightmare made manifest charged, Adam had a flicker of hesitation in the tunnel-vision that so often overcame him in the thick of combat. Was this thing connected to Winn somehow? Could they hurt it without harming Winn too?

Adam was pretty sure shanking Winn in the soul violated Bro-Code.

Rather than the disemboweling slashes to the vulnerable underbelly that would’ve been standard procedure when face a lupine adversary, Adam met the creature’s charge by rolling to the ground beneath the creature and delivering a superhuman kick to straight to the gut to throw it off-balance and break its stride.

“Can we hurt this thing without hurting Winn too?” the Hunter shouted, flipping alacritously back up to his feet as the wolf manifestation’s claws ploughed deep grooves in the forest floor right where Adam’s had just been seconds ago.

Ulfric only had a fraction of a second to be relieved Adam had gone for the more wolf-like manifestation, before it was nearly on him. He unsheathed his axe and gripped its handle tightly, ignoring the dull throb in his right hand. Unleashing a war cry, he pulled the axe back, in anticipation of striking the shadow man’s side and slicing through his softest parts to fell him like a tree. But Adam’s yell caused him to hesitate, the battle cry withering in his throat as the surprisingly heavy vision collided with him at full force and knocked them both to the ground. Timber! “Yes… a head’s up on that front would be… appreciated!” the werewolf called out to the conscious spellcasters between grunts as he wrestled the manifested figure, pinning its wrists to the wilted grass beside him, the axe dislodged in the fall.

With an almighty thwack! Ulfric headbutted the shadow man and rolled out from underneath him. Regaining his footing and his axe he assumed a defensive stance again, this time he turned it round to the blunt side, ready to dole out non-lethal blows while he waited on the official word from the witches on how to proceed.

Fucking hell, there were dream demons now? What the hell was going on? Something else had to be feeding into this magic. If this was just some form of mental magic it would be easy enough to cut off. Cece poked an eye open, witnessing the scene unfold as her and Nell tried their best to focus on the spell. If they were cut off and the others got trapped, well, that would be hard to explain.

“Kill those things!” Cece yelled out to the men wrestling them. “Just don’t kill Winn. We don’t care about the other things.” It probably wouldn’t have any bad effects on Winn. It totally most likely wouldn’t. Maybe. “Nell, you got any fight in you?” Cece and Nell seemed to be juggling the power by this point. Keeping the spell wouldn’t be easy alone, but it was still better than being mauled by an angry wolf of his horde of fucked up nightmares. “I got this if you want to tag in.”

Winn observed the scene unfolding in front of him without worry. He snarled, rushing towards the circle that the damned witches had formed to protect themselves, and started slashing and clawing at the barrier. His ‘claws’ broke off, faded into mist, and then came right back to settle on his paws. Eventually, he would knock this barrier down, and kill both of them. He would feed his bloodlust.

The wolf felt its own claws scrape into the dark ground, blood dripping and sizzling the grass where it fell. Adam’s assault had winded it, but, given it didn’t need to breathe, this wasn’t much of an issue. The knives — silver. But… Silver couldn’t hurt it. Not anymore. Not since… It howled, a strangled, gurgling sound in the darkness, choked off and dove for the boy, dripping maw bared as it went for the hunter’s side. Tearing into his flesh would be the revenge he deserved. After all, Winn Woods had killed his brother. Why not kill Winn’s friends?

The man, for his part, was faring well against Ulfric. He had been trained to hunt werewolves since he was a child, and, before Winn had taken his life, he was good at killing the beasts. If it hadn’t been for his children, watching, the wolf would have never stood a chance. With fury and power, it reached to grab the axe, black tendrils wrapping around it as its twin appeared in the man’s other hand. Excellent. He slashed at Ulfric, going low, trying to cut into the soft skin of the werewolf’s legs. A wolf that couldn’t run was as good as dead.

Nell didn’t need to be asked twice when it came to joining the fray as Cece held her spells. “Just keep draining me, too!” she called to the blonde, knowing the spell needed power to stay aloft. She knew the men could hold their own, but there was still safety in numbers, wasn’t there? Besides, with Winn’s shadow right up against their barrier, it’d be better to head him off right now rather than wait for him to break through. Not for the first time, Nell cursed the fact that she hadn’t yet gotten her summoning tattoos redone after the skin of her arms had peeled off, knowing this would have been much more to the point if she could have brought in her hellhounds or cockatrice. But it didn’t matter, she was confident she’d be able to take him on her lonesome.

Still she’d had the same thought flitting through her mind of whether or not any bodily harm done to this version of Winn would manifest on the man once this was all said and done. If she could, it’d be prudent to take him down with minimal damage done, just as she aimed to do when she’d been bringing in beasts for the Ring. Before she could do that, she needed to get him away from the barrier before he broke it where it stood. Well— no better way to do that than giving him what he wanted, right? Casting a spell over herself that would temporarily enhance her speed, she darted out the other end of the barrier, away from Winn in hopes of getting him to play a little game of chase. “Come and get me, mutt!” Sorry, Ulf, she mentally apologized should he happen to hear.

So there they were, two sorceresses, sleeping beauty wolf, timber wolf, shadow wolf, evil wolfish wolf, man wolfish wolf, and Adam.

In other news, Adam had just gotten bitten in the side by a dream. Was he infected with imaginary lycanthropy now? Did he now have Winn’s emotional hangups in his bloodstream? Sin rabies? What would he tell his family when he turned into a were-dream?

The Hunter might’ve given the issue more thought if he wasn’t in so much pain. Admittedly part of that pain was from where the dream wolf's maw had sunk into his chest and back. The other half of pain was that these silver knives seem to be doing jackshit as Adam football tackled his adversary from the side to try and knock it off balance, trying to plunge his daggers deep into its underbelly.

Ulfric had the shadow man in a holding pattern, keeping the strangely solid figment of Winn’s subconscious at arm’s reach with the blunt side of the axe. But it was getting tiring, so he was relieved when Cece gave the go ahead to just kill the meddlesome manifestation. That was, until it manifested an axe in its hand out of whatever substance dreams were made of. “Ugh, Drit og dra,” he swore under his breath. If he hadn’t resorted to bringing a weapon along with him, would the shadow man have been able to arm himself without copying his?

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that, as the shadow-axe swung towards his legs and he jumped back narrowly missing the blow. Growling, Ulfric swung the axe at the man’s neck only to be blocked by the handle of his. The two axe-heads caught on each other and the werewolf used the stall in the shadow man’s momentum to charge into him and knock him to the ground, before following through with a savage blow that drove the wedge of his axe into his skull. He dug his boot into the man’s neck as he yanked on the handle to dislodge his weapon from the bone it was caught in, and then left it there as took stock of the battlefield. Cece and the rest of the sleepers remained safely inside the circle for now, with Nell holding Winn off while Adam wrestled with the wolf manifestation.

Ulfric’s first instinct was to assist Nell, since he knew and trusted her and had never gotten round to thanking her properly for how she’d assisted him and the Bennetts. But the boy looked to be in more immediate need of assistance, even if the werewolf was reluctant to throw himself into the fray with anyone wielding silver. “Can you handle yourself?” He called out to the young man, when he finally pulled the axe free, glancing between him and the dark haired spellcaster for any changes in the tactical situation.

Chaos had erupted around the group. While Cece had always been pretty adept at tackling insanity and violence with a more level-headed and calm approach, even she had to admit she was getting a bit nervous as Winn barreled towards the barrier. It hadn’t been made to stop a creature as strong as a werewolf. Luckily, Nell had distracted it and led it away, keeping the barrier as well as the spell safe for now. But things weren’t looking especially optimistic at the moment, with Nell facing down Winn’s werewolf, Ulfric and Adam both dealing with their own troubles and injuries. All while Cece was forced to sit in her little bubble, bored and trying to remain focused.

“Hey could you guys wrap this up? I’m trying to focus here! You’re being really loud!” Cece fucked with the trio outside of her bubble, mostly out of boredom. She wished she could drop a message to the group inside of Winn’s brain to hurry the fuck up as well. They were the ones actually lollygagging. Take any longer and their bodies were the ones that would be getting the real shit end of the deal

Winn turned his attention away from the barrier as Nell darted out, but no sooner had she done so that Ulfric’s axe was buried in the skull of the shadow man. In that moment, both of the other shadows seemed to almost glitch, and Winn cried out in pain as the shadows faded back into mist and wisped into him. He twitched, growled, stood stock-still as the mist covered him. The edges were a little sharper, now, claws longer, looking less and less like a werewolf and more like an abomination. Winn set his sights on Ulfric, chasing him down, claws first, fast and furious with wild abandon.

The wolf, meanwhile, howled in pain as Adam’s daggers sunk into its underbelly, rolling over and up again. It grasped at the daggers with its claws, using its newfound resistance to silver and tearing them out of it, and tossing them haphazardly towards the witch. The hunter had some bite to him, did he? Well… It feinted towards the hunter, before turning and barreling towards the witch, hoping it hadn’t been slowed too much by the wound.

“No good fucking wolf,” Nell cursed under her breath as Winn seemed to give up the chase from her as soon as it had started. Still, at least he’d been lured away from Cece and the magic. And perhaps this gave her more of an opening now that he was distracted by Ulfric. Cursing herself for not thinking of it or bringing them in the first place, Nell whispered a quick few words under her breath to Summon forth what would hopefully be her saving grace when it came to the werewolf— wolfsbane, grown in her own greenhouse and crushed until it could be fit into pill form. She’d dropped the capsules into many an unsuspecting wolf’s drink in a bar while she distracted them, and they’d worked wonders when it came to bringing in fighters for the Ring. Of course...none of those werewolves had been in a raging dream state. What was she supposed to do with Winn? Slather the thing in peanut butter and hope he gobbled it up?

She didn’t have a chance to think further on the matter when a sudden, searing pain erupted from her thigh. Huh. A silver dagger seemed to be sticking out of her, much to her annoyance. Looking up, she saw the last of the knives the wolf had tossed headed her way, and her hand instinctively raised, magic pulsing through the air to stop them in their tracks, and turning them back on the charging wolf.

“I’m good, man,” Adam told the lumberjack guy in the midst of wolf wrassling.

Or at least things were fine until the wolf faked him out and made a beeline (dogline?) over towards...

…where Nell giving Winn diet pills? Sleep aids? Now with 50% less chance of wolfing the bed at night?

Holy shit she just got shanked.

Adam didn’t didn’t really have to give that matter any more thought as he sprinted after the wolf-thing, attempting to football tackle the wolf from behind.

Ulfric nodded at Adam’s assurance and did pause as he hurtled himself in Winn’s direction, swinging his axe in a wide berth to keep the creature that had grown from the man at a distance. It wasn’t enough to keep his unnervingly long claws from scraping along the flesh of his arms leaving bright, burning trails. But the older werewolf kept at it, pushing Winn back in Nell’s direction so they could take him on from both sides. Noticing the vial of what looked to be pills in her hand, he realized her intent to get him to swallow them. Chances of getting that done without feeling the full sting of Winn’s fangs were slim, and even if it wasn’t the full moon, he wouldn’t have blamed the humans for being hesitant to risk that. From the way things were going, hesitancy wasn’t something they could afford. “Toss it,” he called to Nell, jerking his head back to indicate that she should go long as he dodged another swipe of Winn’s talons. “I can do what needs to be done.” Soon Woods wouldn’t be able to brag he was the only one who’d gone and got himself deliberately bit. That alone would make it worth it, even without the bonus hopefully putting an end to the nightmare the ritual had unleashed.

Things were getting pretty boring, leaning back and supplying power while all the others were battling werewolves and dream demons in shit. Not that Cece would rather be battling it out with any of them. That shit looked hella dangerous and- did Nell just get impaled with a dagger? Damn. She didn’t let it bother her though, and kept on trucking. They seemed to have a plan. Or a semblance of a plan at least. Cece had a guess what Nell had summoned, but it didn’t matter much at this point what it was as long as it worked. If the group could get that shit inside of Winn, then they may have a chance at calming the asshole down. Honestly, Winn was even more unbearable asleep. From her bubble, there wasn’t much Cece could do to help the group rangle the wolf. But she might be able to distract it, as long as she could multitask.

Sound spells weren’t difficult. Trapping noise within a certain space was easy enough. It was helpful for keeping conversations private and blocking out noise. Cece used to use it to focus, it beat the discomfort of noise cancelling headphones. She split the power between Darwin and Winn now, taking a moment to focus on the wolf that was attacking the rest of the group. She drew a circle into the dirt below her while chanting to herself, trapping the sound within a small barrier around the wolf. It wasn’t hard to tell that the other two weren’t exactly normal humans, the last thing she needed to do was blow out Adam and Ulfric’s eardrums too. Once she was confident the noise would only affect Winn, she positioned her fingers at her mouth, mumbling “Heel boy” and laughing to herself before whistling. It wouldn’t look like Cece wasn’t making any sound at all, unless they were in Winn’s bubble, where the high pitched noise must have been deafening to a creature with enhanced hearing.

The wolf went snout first into the ground with the force of Adam’s tackle, struggling against Adam’s grip. It wouldn’t die. Not here. Not like this. Not again. And certainly not to a fucking whelp of a hunter. It gnashed its bloody teeth, still fresh from the blood it had already taken from Adam. It was slowing down, it knew, a side-effect of the wounds the hunter had inflicted. Was this its last gasp? Was it to be forgotten, again?

Winn snarled, then howled loud and deep as the whistle from Cece — fuckin’ witches — pierced his monstrous ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move. He needed to fight, needed to escape, needed to kill. But try as he might, he was immobilized. The shadows clung tighter to him, but he couldn’t breathe.

With the knives landed on the wolf, and Adam tackling the dream creature from behind, Nell was free to magic the wolfsbanes pills straight into the hand of Ulfric, leaving no room for error as the glass vial rocketed towards him, making a beeline for the ginger wolf. Ulfric would be alright to get in down Winn’s throat, right? There was a kernel of worry gathering in her gut, but she didn’t have the time to pay it any attention while there was still a shadow wolf gnashing away, currently connected to Adam. Looking back to the pair, she couldn’t help but wonder when the wolf had gotten hold of the Hunter, another flicker of worry flashing through her as she saw the initial wounds that had been dealt to her friend. Mental note. Healing party after all this bullshit is done.

Speaking of healing, the fucking knife was still lodged in her damn leg. Maybe she could use that, though. Sure, you weren’t really supposed to take knives out of wounds until you were ready to heal them, but the sooner they ended this— the sooner she’d be able to stitch herself and the others back together. Gritting her teeth, Nell pulled the dagger from her thigh, stifling the gasp that wanted to break free from her as pain once again made itself known. “Adam!” she called out before tossing the knife his way, figuring it might be a welcome sight in dispatching the wolf. The silver hadn’t seemed to hurt the thing, but Ulfric’s shadow man had withered away under the axe, right? First the vial, now the dagger, she really should have looked into more shot put in highschool with the way this scuffle was going.

Adam knew that there were two main methods to kill wolves. One was slow and cruelly tactical, a painful crippling that permitted an inclined hunter to track the victim back to other prey. This was typically accomplished with heavy jacketed AP ammo, though a serrated tactical knife could serve with some freakish strength behind it. The prey would typically panic in the agony of the steadily worsening wound and their instinct to run would in fact seal their demise, as circulation did the Hunter’s work for them.  

The second method was the to maximize internal tissue trauma in the shortest period possible, singular swift brutality. Softer tipped bullets were usually employed for this, as they mushroomed inside the body cavity and killed very quickly. But this method was admittedly much harder to accomplish with a knife.

Earlier this year Adam would’ve likely gone for the first method, maybe even enjoyed the savage simplicity of it. Growing up, Adam had been warned in vain to not get addicted to the adrenal rush of combat. A Hunter is merely a servant fulfilling a duty, and taking pleasure in regrettable necessity was the quickest way to fall from grace. After dad died, Adam had backslid in a big way. The consequences spoke for themselves.

As he’d been taught, Adam mentally visualized a six inch deep wound through the chest into the hard knot-like heart. The Hunter locked his legs around the wolf-beast he was wrestling, pressing down on its lungs. With one hand, he lunged directly under the wolf’s jaw to grab its throat directly on the trachea, muscles knotting and straining like bruised wire as Adam tried to twist the nightmare-thing’s unnaturally large maw away from him, grimacing as its thick moist breath sent hot splittle across his face.

Ignoring the searing pain of the seeping lacerations the wolf’s thrashing claws had raked open during their wrestling match on the forest floor, Adam called upon the rote mental exercises of training while his breathing settled into a staccato tempo. Pain, the filth caked mud, the ritual, the other combatants, and Nell’s blood still sliding down this blade all faded. For a moment Adam and the wolf seemed completely alone, nothing else existed. Almond shaped amber eyes met the human’s cold jasper stare in a split-second of understanding before a dagger’s plunge snuffed out their light.

Once the frigid metal of Adam’s dagger was the only thing left of the wolf’s form, the air shifted, again, the black mist of the creature fading back into Winn. Winn howled, once more, in pain, as though this much power was too much for him. He fell to the ground, writhing, twitching as the force of the shadows overcame him, the force of the screeching from Cece’s spell blistering in his ears. Howling cut through the sky, through the clearing.

There was a hand in his mouth, shoving something down his throat, and Winn chomped down hard into the skin of Ulfric’s arm, but the deed was done.

Winn’s body convulsed as the wolfsbane took effect, not even magic able to overcome the werewolf’s weaknesses. Eventually, the shadowy form collapsed, maw first, onto the forest floor. The woods were silent, the mist was fading. Winn Woods was facedown in the dirt, bruised and bloodied, but breathing.

And the dreamers were waking up.

Blinking, Noah opened his eyes, the adrenaline of their kissing making him grin. “Winn?” Noah called out to his boyfriend next to him, rolling over to poke the other, before panic overtook him. Where was Winn? Something was wrong.

[pathogenic]

Chapter 2: The Prophet

Shorter than Chapter 1, but let’s fucking goooooo

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Necromancer

Chapter 2: The Prophet

Chapter 3: The Hag

Chapter 4: The Brigand Vvulf

Chapter 5: The Brigand’s Cannon

Chapter 6: The Drowned Crew

Chapter 7: The Siren

Chapter 8: The Swine God

Chapter 9: The Formless Flesh

Chapter 10: The Ancestor

Epilogue

Be weary, there is a violent death here.

Our frontline fighters still needed time to recover as they were just as badly burned as I had feared. I knew Reynauld would be fine. He was a young and healthy man and was capable of recovering quickly, but I had to admit that I was worried if Baldwin would come out the other side of this. Burns on top of his condition was a recipe for disaster, but I should not have doubted him. His will is the strongest I have seen in any man and I had to wonder if he was even human.

Still, I did not feel it was right to send them out to battle just yet. I would rather allow them to rest before I ask them to put their lives on the line again. Besides, it seems that until then, they’ve picked up things to do around the Hamlet to keep their mind off of the stress. Some may be a little less than honorable, such as Dismas and Reynauld’s less than honest gambling, but Julia, Baldwin, and Paracelsus have been seen around the Hamlet either aiding repairs or offering service to the townsfolk to help them. It warmed my heart to see the town starting to recover and heal from the tragedies they have seen.

With them out, however, I have been forced to keep a look out for more heroes to aid our quest. One came to us late in the evening. He said his name is Alhazred and that he is an esteemed professor from a distant University. Further research indicated this to be true, but I was not overly familiar with his studies as I never truly even touched occult studies before I arrived at the Hamlet. After our adventures against the Necromancer, however, how could I turn him down? He would know far more on the topic of the arcane and the supernatural than I ever would. The fact that he was capable of combat despite his frail appearance was just another point in his favor.

Once he was hired, he set upon his work, requesting access to the library that my Ancestor had made. I granted this, but I told him there wasn’t much to see that I was aware of. He was understandably disappointed, but still, he has been there every day I have not called upon him, diligently working away. I also managed to get the old books from the dungeon pulled and brought to him. He seemed more satisfied with those, despite being as damaged as they are.

Alhazred was not the only person to arrive to my Hamlet, however. A brash woman who announced herself as Boudica came in one day and loudly challenged Reynauld. He, thankfully, refused, but an older gentleman that had arrived earlier that day that I had not had the chance to meet with just yet. Reynauld told me that the fight was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The man Boudica had challenged is an old war veteran by the name of Barristan, so it was a battle of old knowledge versus young wit. Boudica came out on top, but just barely. Despite blowing through a table (which they mercifully paid for), I allowed both of them to serve the Hamlet. I admit that I was hesitant with Boudica, being as young and brash as she is, however a conversation with her laid my fears to rest. Despite her behavior, it appears she had nowhere else to go and genuinely wished to help. Perhaps she hoped her earn her keep into the Hamlet, and I found it heartless to say no.

With a new crew assembled of Barristan, Boudica, Julia, and Alhazred, we headed for the dungeons once again with the intent of making sure there was nothing undead left behind within them. As we ventured deeper, we did find some more of the cultists. However, since I did not see anymore moving skeletons, I think it is safe to assume that while they do have some dark arcane powers are their beck and call, they are not capable of Necromancy. The idea brought me some peace.

We traveled beyond the chamber we fought the Necromancer and his minions in and found some undead shambling further within, but with no master they were disorganized and disorientated. I was fooled into thinking this was going to be a simple task as we cut through their ranks. By the time we reached the last door that we left unopened in the dungeons, I had put the prophet out of my mind. What a mistake that was.

I opened the doors to a grimy old man sitting upon the floor. His head and one hand were firmly locked inside a stockade. His other was free and was closed in front of him in a gentle fist. I came to the conclusion that he must have been holding something fragile, but at the same time he did not want the world to see what he was holding. When we entered, he lifted his head. There were old wraps that draped from his head and over his eyes. There was blood over where his eyes were, and I had a sinking feeling about what he was holding.

For a moment, his expression was blank before there was a look of contempt on his face. He asked if I knew what I had done the moment I set foot in the Hamlet. I had to admit, I did not know how to respond to such a question and begged for his pardon. This did not seem to be the answer he wanted as he pushed himself onto his sinewy legs. I asked for him to explain further since I was uncertain as to what he was talking about. This irritated the man and he flew into a tirade about how he tried to warn my Ancestor once, but “look what happened now”. He even claimed that short-sightedness must run in my family for me to arrive here.

Then all of a sudden, his rant was done before he gave a sigh. A smile crept upon his face. He claimed that he “would end the cycle”, though at the time, I had no clue what this meant. All I know is that he held out his free hand and exposed his two gouged eyes to us. He claimed that he could see the ceiling of the dungeon caving in and would cause grievous injury. I was about to speak once more when I suddenly felt Barristan rush and grab me. He pulled me close and held his shield over our heads as a boulder collided. I could hear him cry out in pain from the weight, but we were alive.

Julia, on the other hand, was crushed under the weight as Boudica could do nothing but move out of the way before it got the both of them. The sound of her body breaking is not one I would forget anytime soon.

I admit I did not pay much attention to the battle from there as I was so shaken by the death of Julia to notice much. I had experienced loss prior to this, but never something so sudden and violent. I can’t say I know of anyone who was able to process the first time they saw someone die like this. The idea that perhaps I could have done something to protect her played in my mind on a loop despite the fact that I know it was not something I could have prepared for. How could I have known the Prophet had such terrifying abilities?

What I do know is that eventually there was a hand upon my shoulder. Barristan pulled me away from the side of the boulder, away from what I could see of Julia’s body. I looked over and saw the corpse of the Prophet laid open, wondering when the world had moved on without me. He never took his hand off of me as he helped me out, leading me back towards the Hamlet. No one said much of anything during that trip back.

It took me a few days to truly process what had happened. We eventually sent in Reynauld, Boudica, Dismas, and Barristan in to fetch what they could of Julia’s body. Her grave now is by the Abby that she tried her best to tend to. Reynauld picked up that duty in her stead.

As for me, I attended the service, and then I found Barristan and Reynauld and made a request of them. I do not want to leave the heroes I have employed on their own. I plan to travel with them as often as I can as it is my duty to ensure the corruption here in the Hamlet is driven out. I did not want to be dead weight to them any longer. I asked for them to teach me how to use a blade and how to be a tactician. They seemed to understand why I was asking this of them and agreed to my requests.

In the following weeks, Barristan taught me the basics of planning ahead for these types of battles. He taught me how to think about formations, weighing out our fighter’s strengths and weaknesses, and how to read the enemy. Reynauld drilled me in the ways of a sword and helped me be fitted for some basic armor so I would be less of a liability.

While I know that what happened to Julia was not the result of me being inept as a fighter, it did bring me some comfort to know that no one else would die because I couldn’t even raise a blade to defend myself. I suppose a way, it was me trying to do better for everyone in the Hamlet.

[enbyleighlines]

Wlecome back! I hope things are going well for you, I've missed seeing you on my dash as much. Can I prompt something Wen Qing related please? I would especially love her interacting with Wen Ning or Jiang Yanli, but when it comes to my girl I am not fussy (^‿^)

Thank you! You can absolutely ask for something Wen Qing related! I hope you enjoy this Wen Qing centric drabble~

STARTING LINE

Early September | Gusu University

The first time Wen Qing passed through Gusu, she had had her nose buried in a book, and had completely missed the opportunity to observe the city through the window of the carriage. Aside from one monosyllabic servant, 18-year-old Wen Qing was making the journey to Gusu University on her own. Usually, it was A-Ning who reminded Wen Qing to take the time to observe the scenery. 

A-Ning had wanted to escort Wen Qing, had even mustered up the courage to ask Master Wen about it, but his request had been denied. A-Ning was already behind in his arcane studies, and Master Wen thought it unwise to risk setting him further behind.

Logically, Wen Qing could accept that reasoning. Her beloved brother had always been unusually meek and humble; the very opposite of what a disciple of the Wen family ought to be. In her heart, however, Wen Qing could not help but miss her sweet baby brother. He was certainly a much better conversationalist than the morose maid sent to accompany her. 

Wen Qing very much hoped that the girl — she had introduced herself as A-Yang — would prove to be more interesting as time went on, as they would be spending the next three years together. 

But those musings would have to be continued at a later time. Wen Qing’s attention was finally drawn away from her book by the sound of the coachman urging the horses to halt. For the first time during the trip, Wen Qing pulled aside the curtain to peer outside. She did not know what she had expected from the most prestigious arcane university in the country, but Wen Qing was surprised to see rolling hills and little else. It was only when Wen Qing craned her head that she saw the corner of an actual building.

“We’re here,” A-Yang said, unnecessarily. 

“Yes, I can see that, thank you,” Wen Qing replied, trying to sound polite rather than sarcastic, and probably failing. 

Wen Qing didn’t wait for the coachman to open her door, and instead took that small duty into her own hands. When she stepped out, the first thing she noticed was the chill in the air. Wen Qing shivered, and drew her outer coat tighter around her. The next thing that hit Wen Qing was the silence. Gusu University was a place of study, true, but still. Wen Qing wondered if the silence was due to the fact that not many students had arrived yet. 

(Later, she would realize that, no, Gusu was always that quiet.)

When Wen Qing turned to take a better look at the building, she was struck yet again with surprise. It was unexpectedly modest, in both size and design. It was not ugly by any stretch of the imagination, as its simplicity gave it a certain charm, but in a world where magi families loved to showcase their wealth, it stood out like a sore thumb. 

As Wen Qing stood there staring at it, the front door opened, and a woman in a purple and pink dress stepped out. 

The stranger was just an inch shorter than Wen Qing, with a round, pale face, partially concealed by a curtain of bangs. The quality of her clothes suggested that she was a woman of high standing. And though her features were rather plain, she had a very kind smile.

“Hello,” the woman said, as she approached Wen Qing, “You must be Miss Qing.”

Wen Qing frowned, unable to hide her surprise. “I am,” she answered, dropping into a curtsey. And then, “I apologize, but I did not realize that someone would be waiting for me.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” the other woman scrambled to say, “I should apologize. I should have introduced myself first.” She dipped into her own curtsey, and then went on, “My name is Jiang Yanli, only daughter to Master Jiang. This will be my third year at Gusu University. There are only a handful of female students here at Gusu, so I like to take the time to help each first-year get settled in.”

“Oh.” Wen Qing rolled that over her head. “So that’s how you knew my name,” she guessed.

Miss Yanli’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. “Yes, sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realize that would sound so suspicious. Like I said, there are not many female students here. And not much happens here. So gossip spreads quickly.”

Wen Qing nodded. That made sense to her. “Is that why the female dorm is so small?”

With a slightly embarrassed giggle, Miss Yanli glanced over her shoulder at the unimpressive looking building. “Yes,” she admitted, “That’s exactly why. It’s only recently that Gusu University has accepted female students. There are exactly one dozen bedrooms, with two students assigned to each room. And half of them have never been used.”

“Why not let every student have their own room, then?”

Miss Yanli glanced at Wen Qing, and then quickly looked away. She kept her eyes focused on the horizon as she answered, “The headmaster believes that students might be more inclined to misbehave if they don’t have a roommate to hold them accountable.”

Well, wasn’t that a vague, nothing answer? But Wen Qing did not point that out. It was clear that the very mention of the topic made Miss Yanli uncomfortable, and Wen Qing saw no reason to press the matter. Wen Qing had never shared a room with anyone before, but she was not so spoiled that she would throw a fit over being asked to do so, especially since Miss Yanli had been nothing but pleasant towards her thus far. Besides, Wen Qing suspected that Miss Yanli’s non-answer was an attempt at conveying a rude truth in a polite manner. 

“Where will my maid, A-Yang, sleep?” Wen Qing asked instead.

Miss Yanli smiled sheepishly. “The servants have their own separate quarters,” she answered, “They share a building with the school staff, which is closer to campus. Men and women are still divided into two separate wings, but they share a cafeteria and recreation room. I suppose, since they are adults, they can be trusted not to engage in... mischief.”

There was something about the way Miss Yanli had phrased that that made Wen Qing chuckle. It seemed that they shared a sense of humor.

“Quite,” Wen Qing snickered. She didn’t point out that A-Yang was hardly much older than Miss Yanli. It was not that the adult staff were more trusted, but rather that they were not held to the same standards. If Wen Qing was correct about “mischief” being a euphemism for something else, then it made sense that the headmaster at Gusu University did not care whether or not the staff and servants engaged in it. The purity of their souls was of no consequence to magi. It was the apprentice magi who had to prove that they were good and virtuous, in order to maintain the facade of moral superiority. 

There was a brief second of silence. Then Miss Yanli spoke again.

“Well,” Miss Yanli said, making a show of looking in all directions, “It doesn’t look like anyone else will be arriving soon. May I give you a short tour?”

Wen Qing curtsied. “You may,” she answered, half sarcastic and half sincere.

That got a small giggle out of Miss Yanli. 

Wen Qing turned to A-Yang, who was already helping the coachman unload Wen Qing’s belongings. Before she could say anything, however, Miss Yanli rushed forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me help carry something,” Miss Yanli offered, “We can transfer the luggage to Miss Qing’s assigned quarters before the tour. That is, if Miss Qing doesn’t mind?” She then gave Wen Qing a wide-eyed look that only a sociopath could have denied.

Wen Qing was immediately reminded of A-Ning. It was similarly impossible to deny him anything, as soon as he pulled out the puppy eyes.

Beyond that, though, was the fact that Miss Yanli was making a point of participating in the kind of work reserved for servants. Wen Qing was not offended, like some other aristocrats might have been, but she was surprised. Of course, Wen Qing felt the occasional stab of discomfort when her servants performed tasks that Wen Qing could have easily accomplished on her own, but it was an easy emotion to ignore. A-Ning also insisted on doing his own chores, a fact that earned him no small amount of ridicule. For Wen Qing, it was easier to just go along with harmless little things like that. Perhaps Wen Qing did not believe that she was inherently superior to the peasant class just because she had been born into money, but the servants were getting paid to do their job, and as long as they were treated with basic courtesy, what was the harm in it?

Still, Wen Qing could appreciate a woman like Miss Yanli who, despite being higher on the totem pole than Wen Qing, did not consider herself above manual labor. 

“It’s fine,” Wen Qing said. She went to A-Yang’s side and held out a hand. When A-Yang looked at her as though Wen Qing had just sprouted horns, Wen Qing jokingly inquired, “What? I can’t just sit back while the daughter of Master Jiang carries my luggage, can I? Let me help, too.”

[ladyfl4me]

what other writing inspires you? like other fics or stories?

Hmmmm. I haven’t been doing much new reading lately, outside of stuff I do for my coursework. That being said, there are a lot of works I like to return to. (Sorry about this long, long infodump on my favorite works, but boy howdy do I love these. I’m probably forgetting about five million other things, but those are the ones that come to mind right away.)

As far as fic goes, I used to read a lot of MCU stuff; I even wrote a few in my day, before mainstream fandom got too exhausting/the franchise went to shit and I was swept up by TAZ. I always cite @miamaroo​‘s Northern Migration as the fic that inspired me to take the leap into long-form intricate TAZ AUs. I also adore Seven Raptors by DragonWrites. If I hadn’t discovered these two stories while on a Balance fic binge last year, I definitely wouldn’t have written The Moth who Came In from the Cold. @morganeashton​‘s fic Running Home is also a stunning work that I regret not reading sooner. The chapters are short, but each one blew me away. Morgie paid incredibly close attention to even the most minor characters, fleshing them out in quick brushstrokes of dialogue and action that made me fall in love with the characters in brand new ways. I highly recommend reading it.

Outside of fic, there are three books that I always keep on my desk when I’m looking for inspiration, or just trying to find something to model/use as a guide:

American Gods by Neil Gaiman. This is a big one. I keep a copy of it on my desk to page through when I have trouble with dialogue, and balancing inner character monologues with external events. It’s also a good book for me to read while trying to work out The Children of Sylvain; I have a lot of moving parts in it, much like American Gods does.

Salamander by Thomas Wharton. I read this one and was like, you can do that?? With words???? Damn, son. It’s about a 18th century book printer who makes novelty books; he gets hired by a duke who’s obsessed with puzzles, to the point that he rigged his entire castle to rearrange its own fucking floor plan like an architectural Rubik’s cube. I’m talking beds leaving their rooms to zip around the castle on rails, in the middle of the night; moving walls; entire bookshelves leaving the library to make loops around the building. Some serious steampunk shit. This duke hires the printer to make a book that never ends, and this quest leads him on a journey across the world to gather the materials to print and bind his book. It is not as boring as it sounds, I promise. I mostly remember it for the lesbian pirate who liberates slave ships, but also for the really good prose, which is one of the reasons why I keep it on the desk for reference.

Sabriel by Garth Nix. Amazing worldbuilding, excellent prose, great characters and relationships, an incredibly compelling narrative and a protagonist on the front cover (of my edition) that I’m very gay for. 

[ID: the cover of the book Sabriel, by Garth Nix. The cover art shows a young white woman, from about the knees up. Her eyes are hooded and pensive. She wears a flowing blue overcoat with white trim, patterned with silver keys. Twelve small bells in protective leather pouches hang from a bandolier across her chest. A scabbard hangs from a belt around her waist; across the bottom of the picture, just barely visible, she holds an unsheathed sword with arcane symbols carved into it. She holds one small bell in her hand. A blurred, formless black shadow with glowing orange slits for eyes reaches towards her shoulder with a gnarled hand. The woman looks slightly over her shoulder, eyes hooded and pensive. End ID.]

The titular protagonist is part of a divine line of necromancers sworn to make sure the dead stay dead. She’s forced to journey from her current residence - a country like WWII-era Europe, except everyone can do magic and has a sword - across the border into the Old Kingdom, when her father goes missing and dead things everywhere start rising. I keep this one around for help with basically everything.

Other passive sources of inspiration for me include:

Lord of the Rings. My first fandom and one I’ll always return to. It informs so, so much of how I structure arcs and characters. It’s a good thing that most of the friends I bounce things off of/write for aren’t super familiar with it, because they’d be able to guess the plot of TCOS in like 5 minutes if they did.

TAZ, of course

the MCU, before the franchise went to shit and I developed critical thinking skills

the Pendragon series by D.J. MacHale (more of an elementary-middle school inspiration for me, which convinced me to take a leap into novel writing. I still have 3 or 4 of the books from this 10-book monolith)

video games:

999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors

Beyond Good and Evil

Myst, games 1-3

I’m also subscribed to the Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day newsletter, which often sends me something that fucking Gets Me. At the moment, I’ve been really taken with the poems of Catherine Pierce; she came to do a reading at my college recently, and we read her collection The Tornado is the World for my poetry workshop course. I can’t recommend her enough. She’s got a gift for saying a lot in a frank, arresting way. Here’s an excerpt from “The Mother Warns the Tornado,” which is from that book (time to see if tumblr fucks up the formatting):

I will heed the warning

protocol, I will cover him with my body, I will

wait with mattress and flashlight,

but know this: If you come down here—if you splinter your way through our pines,

if you suck the roof off this red-doored ranch,

if you reach out a smoky arm for my child—

I will turn hacksaw. I will turn grenade.

I will invent for you a throat and choke you.

I will find your stupid wicked whirling

head and cut it off. Do not test me.

If you come down here, I will teach you about

greed and hunger. I will slice you into palm-

sized gusts. Then I will feed you to yourself.

Good shit. Reminds me a lot of Mama. I highly recommend giving The Tornado is the World a read! Not every poem in the book is quite as visceral as “The Mother Warns the Tornado;” some are melancholy, some are brash and cocky, some are sad, some are sinister, some are overcome with joy. It’s a beautiful anthology, and I found it very easy to read and relate to. I annotated my copy to hell and back and I’m definitely keeping it for years to come.

I’m going to regret this later, probably, but! If anyone has any recommendations for books, TV shows, podcasts, whatever, send me an ask! I’ll make a list. Or, knowing me, a spreadsheet. Have at thee!