#Galaxy:Fable

[annoyed-galaxy]

The Theresa and Reaver Debacle

Y’know, I’ve been thinking up the little sudden uprising about the whole Reaver and Theresa debate. How can someone like Reaver but hate Theresa?

Well I’ma try to explain my thoughts on this.

When I first played Fable, I was 12. I played Fable 3 and it was the only exposure I had to Fable. I had only known Theresa and Reaver from Fable 3. I absolutely hated Reaver. He was an evil little shit and I despised him. Theresa, I really had no opinion on her. Not until I played Fable: The Journey about a year after I played 3. I was young back then so didn’t think too much about Theresa’s story in the Journey.

Now that I have revisited Fable, replaying 3 and playing 2 for the first time, I am viewing these stories with a much more mature mind. When I met Reaver in Fable 2, he was so different than his 3 version. I mean yes, he was still a narcissistic asshole, so full of himself, but he was entertaining. The entire “How dare Lucien betray me as I was betraying you!” thing was hilarious to me.

This, to me, gave a new perspective on Reaver. And after going back to read his diaries in his mansion, it really added more to his character. Reaver kind of gives me Deadpool vibes. He does things for himself, usually without a care for anyone else, but that doesn’t make him evil. He doesn’t intentionally go out to ruin people’s lives. I mean he does ruin people’s lives, but that’s because whatever selfish thing he is doing is affecting those people. In Fable 2, the Reaver I met was an anti-hero type character. Very different than his Fable 3 self. In 2, he seems more carefree and self-centered on “me me me me”. He’s doing things for himself and that’s it. In Fable 3, he is given complete control on progressing Albion into the Industrial Age. So he’s doing something for Albion, rather than himself. Of course, he makes people’s lives miserable, but you can’t argue that progress is happening.

I don’t know, to me, Reaver isn’t evil. He’s just a selfish narcissistic asshole who cares about himself. But he is human. It’s revealed that he has nightmares of his actions in Oakvale and has to drink himself to sleep because of them. He still is haunted by his deeds and he has to convince himself that he isn’t that person anymore. After playing Fable 2 and talking to some peeps who like Reaver (he has a lot of love in this small fandom) I start to like his character more. He is an interesting character. He’s not completely evil and he’s not completely good either. He’s morally grey. He won’t go out of his way to kill someone if it doesn’t benefit him or if they haven’t done him harm or offended him. I like his character because of how interesting he is. After reading his diaries, it adds a lot of depth to his character and shows that he is still human. He’s not a heartless bastard. He can still feel emotion, he is just really good at hiding it. That’s why I think a lot of people like Reaver. No, his actions can’t be justified, but just because people like him, doesn’t mean they are justifying his actions. Like I said, I absolutely hated Reaver. But now that I see there was more to him, I enjoy his character. I think Reaver is a great character and has good story-telling potential.

Now moving on to Theresa. Theresa is the definition of morally grey. No matter what path you choose as Sparrow or HOBW, good or evil, Theresa still guides you because she needs you. Her goal is to get to the Spire in Fable 2. Hence why she uses Sparrow. Theresa builds Sparrow up, building up on the Hero’s grief and thirst for vengeance to use them as a tool. Theresa sends them in the Spire, knowing they’d be so close to their target for so long, but needing the Spire to be fully constructed. Once it’s constructed, then the Heroes join together to take it from Lucien. Once Lucien is dead and Sparrow has made their wish, Theresa simply throws them away. She has the Spire and that was her goal.

What she did to Sparrow was very shitty and selfish, but that’s why I like to think Theresa and Reaver are two sides of the same coin. Theresa acts very selfishly in Fable 2, wanting the Spire for her own needs. In Fable 3, she acts very manipulative in how she wants the HOBW to take the throne. She shows Logan as this evil tyrant, hell bent on keeping his power, but doesn’t show the actual truth. She manipulates the HOBW into fighting their brother into taking the throne and then reveals the truth about the Crawler. Theresa is not wholly good, but also not inherently evil. She is manipulative, twisting the narrative to benefit her. She admits this in The Journey. She admits to manipulating Sparrow and the HOBW. She’s the reason the Crawler awoke and attacked Albion. She’s the reason the Corrupter was close to entering the world and destroying it. But in the end, Theresa sacrificed her life to right her wrongs. This is where she and Reaver differ.

I honestly think that Reaver may die in a similar way to Theresa, sacrificing himself for something. It may several centuries down the road, but I can see it happening. Theresa and Reaver are very similar characters. They are the most morally grey characters in Fable. They are both selfish, using people around them to get what they want. But they both have their regrets. Theresa tells herself that what she is doing is for the good of the world. Reaver has to tell himself the things he did was necessary for his survival.

So to sum this up, the debate between Reaver and Theresa is silly to me. Because if you study their characters, they are very similar. They are the two sides of the same coin, and I think that was intended. In both games, you are surrounded by people aligned to one side or the other, your allies are righteous and your enemies are evil. But Theresa and Reaver, who both come from Oakvale, are the grey characters. They have lived for the same amount of time and have had similar experiences. They both are fantastic characters and I think there is more to them that can be revealed. Although Theresa’s story was closed up in The Journey, maybe with the reboot we will see more of her. Same thing with Reaver.

I like both Reaver and Theresa, because I was rambling and typing all this shit down, I started to realize how they are portrayed in the games. I find it so interesting, now. I’m not trying to change anyone’s opinions on the character’s but I am trying to voice my own opinions on these two. Fable is the type of game to leave a lot to interpretation and allows a lot of storytelling. So it’s just really how you perceive them.

(I would like to say that I was typing and thinking at the same time, so if some things don’t make sense, I was just trying to word my thoughts as best as I could, but I’m ass at that. But I hope the point gets across)

[annoyed-galaxy]

Who Says Fuck | Fable 2&3 Version

Regularly says fuck: Sparrow, Hero of Brightwall, Walter

Has sworn off saying fuck, but has said it at some point: Theresa, Hammer

Has not said fuck before, but can if so desired: Reaver, Ben Finn, Logan

Has not said fuck before, and refuses to say it: Page, Elliot/Elise, Garth

Legally cannot say fuck: Jasper

[annoyed-galaxy]

Well look at that, not too bad if I do say so myself. Still have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m doing it. Drawing outfits are hard especially WHEN EVERYONE IN FABLE JUST WANTS TO HAVE SO MANY FUCKING LAYERS but we don’t discuss that. Anywho enjoy some more dumb chaotic siblings and no I don’t know what I’m doing with Aelyn’s Will marks. Swoosh swoosh blue lines fuck you

[annoyed-galaxy]

It’s time to STOP

When your big brother is making stupid ass decisions as king.

Played around with the blur filter on CSP and I think it made the whole picture a lot funnier and better. Again, I have no idea what I’m doing with backgrounds and don’t know what I’m doing in general, but hey, it’s something.

Also Logan fuck your armor.

Unblurred image below the cut.

The blurred is funnier.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Random Headcanons

that no one asked for featuring Logan and my HOBW who I’m thinking about calling Spellblade as her Hero name. Still haven’t come up with an actual name for her.

Logan can’t swim. Not well at least. Spellblade has tried teaching him several times as she loves to swim, but he’s always reluctant. His fear of swimming got worse after the incident in Aurora. He hates traveling over the ocean, but at the same time, looks forward to the adventure on the other side.

Logan and Spellblade can communicate easily without speaking. They can talk with just looks. This has happened on several occasions in the throne room where they have a whole conversation without saying a thing. 

Spellblade notices that Logan doesn’t like writing/signing official documents because his handwriting is a little sloppy. He smudges ink most of the time because he’s left-handed (this is true since his sword sheath is on his right side and he uses his left hand to unsheathe it when you confront him in the Battle for Albion). Most of the time, if he has to write or sign official document, Spellblade will help him with most of it. She doesn’t judge him at all for being left-handed (since back in old days here on Earth, being left-handed was a bad thing and I kind of like to think of Fable being that way. One of those little insecurities that Logan has).

Once a year, on the anniversary of the Crawler’s defeat, Spellblade will go to Walter’s statue and kneel before it for hours on end. Sometimes Logan will join her in silent comfort. He wasn’t as close to Walter as she was, but he comforts her because he knows how much she missed Walter.

(Edit) Adding this one because I had a sneaking suspicion but: Logan can sing. And he can sing very well. And Spellblade can play the lute very well. So they make music together. And the reason I say Logan can sing is because, Michael Fassbender (Logan's VA) can fucking sing. Don't believe me? Just take a look here. And as for Spellblade, you do have the option to master the lute job. So I like to think these siblings crack some nice tunes when they're together.

These are just a few headcanons that I have in stone right now. Some that I am working with involves Reaver as their secret dad (thanks mainly to @the-sparrow-sings for that idea). I’m toying with that idea because I found out that if you play the princess, your father is mentioned a lot. But if you play the prince, it is your mother that is mentioned. I am playing Fable 2 right now as a female so that would be my HOBW’s mother so I’m trying to rearrange Spellblade’s story to fit with the one I’m forging for my Sparrow. @the-sparrow-sings seriously got me hooked on this Father!Reaver thing and it’s helping with how I want to build both my Sparrow and HOBW. I just need to finish Fable 2 to actually get some solid ideas.

Oh and here is one more headcanon:

As part of her “Reformation Act”, Spellblade dragged Logan around with her to every court meeting or place where she had to make a royal decision. It was to show him how she fixed his mistakes and to prove that you could help people and save them at the same time. It also served as an embarrassing punishment especially in the first case when deciding what to do about child labor. When approached with the idea, Spellblade asks “Whose idea was this?!” Reaver of course, takes the credit. That’s when Spellblade turns to her brother and says “You agreed to this?!” Of course, Logan looks ashamed, but is surprised when he is walloped on the back side of his head.

Going along with the Father!Reaver idea, Reaver will see this and smile inwardly at the silly bond between his secret kids.

I’m going to need to actually meet Reaver in Fable 2 to discover more of his personality. Because when I first played Fable 3, I never really liked him. But seeing that a lot of people here on Tumblr actually do like him and have made several different ideas about him etc, I am starting to grow fond towards the bastard. The more I play the game, and the more I look at Fable on Tumblr, the more ideas I get and the more I want to start writing. I love my idiotic siblings and just want to gush about them and make a bunch of stories. Fable is bringing my writing and thinking back to life. And finding new people who share the same interests is heartwarming as well.

[annoyed-galaxy]

welcome to another rendition of “I CANT FUCKING DRAW” and “THE FILE WAS SO FUCKING BIG I HAD TO TAKE A SCREENSHOT JUST TO UPLOAD THIS FUCKING THING” and “im tired now im taking shots of coffee”

Yes this was based on one of those good ole “draw your squad” things and this one features my Fable family. Possibly in an AU where Sparrow never dies. If the quality looks like shit, well that’s because I literally had to take a screenshot from CSP just to upload this because the file was too fucking big for Tumblr cause Lily doesn’t know how to use a few layers and rather a shit ton and I’m tired of THIS SHITTY LAPTOP being slow so PLUNK there you go enjoy.

Context behind this: Reaver of course flirting with Sparrow. Aelyn (who is my HOBW, I finally gave her a name) doesn’t realize Reaver’s her dad and doesn’t like him and Logan, who had a sneaking suspicion that Reaver was his father and now has it confirmed, is trying to drag his sister away before she turns Reaver into a glorified pin cushion.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Proposition

Here’s a part 2ish thing to the Fable Aftermath story I wrote featuring my good ole Sparrow and local smarmy bastard, Reaver. This one is lot longer so get ready for a doozy. Now I will preface this by saying some of the emotions Sparrow is feeling in this reflects some of the emotions I have felt in my life. Her depression has influences from my own dark moments. For some reason, Fable 2 managed to set up a character in a way that I can relate to closely and she is probably one of my best characters I have ever made because she’s just real.

And honestly, what I have going on here has actually made me impressed with my writing because I feel like I’ve gotten so much better since I last wrote a story and I’m actually developing something that’s pretty decent. I am proud of my writing right now, and more will be coming, don’t worry. So sit back and enjoy! 

  Returning from Samarkand had been one hell of a journey. Treating magical wounds turned out to be extremely difficult and uncomfortable. Even when the wounds were treated, there would still be scars left.

   Reaver opened his shirt to look at the scar across his stomach where Garth had summoned those cursed magical blades and one scathed him as he ran away. Reaver rolled his eyes at the scar and closed his shirt. He then took a drag from his flask.

   The carriage he was in stopped and the driver smacked the roof. “We’ve arrived at Bloodstone.”

   Reaver stepped out of the carriage and gave a few gold coins to the driver. “Tatty-bye,” he said as he walked through his lovely little home. Shops were starting to close for the night as the sun began its descent across the sky. He heard patrons in the tavern talking about how they got to meet the great Hero of Albion, Sparrow.

   At the mention of the young lady’s name, Reaver raised an eyebrow and found himself in the tavern. People noted his presence and became stiff, a little terrified of the Pirate King. He waltzed up to the bartender and gave his most pleasant smile. “Evening. I heard mention of the great Hero of Albion? Did she pass through here today?” Reaver asked the old man.

   Nervously, the man responded, “Yeah. She came by to collect a bounty.”

   “Is she still here?”

   “I don’t know. Last I saw her, she was purchasing a crate of booze from the drink vendor ‘round the corner.”

   Reaver tapped the counter and turned. “Thank you very much,” and then exited the tavern. The drink vendor wasn’t at his stall so Reaver tried to think where a young woman with a crate full of booze would go. It had been a year since Reaver had last seen Sparrow and he was quite honestly intrigued by her. The fire in her eyes, the determination to recruit him amongst the other Heroes, and ever her stubbornness to die after Lucien killed her all intrigued Reaver. Not to mention how she selflessly sacrificed everything for Albion. She sacrificed her own youth and beauty just to get Reaver to join her and then sacrificed the one chance she had at getting her sister and faithful dog back.

   Reaver had never met such a selfless person before. He wanted to see her again, see how a year of Hero’s glory was like.

   He figured he might find her somewhere near the beach; he didn’t know why, he just had a feeling she could be found there. He was impressed with himself when he did see the beautiful white-haired woman sitting in the sand with a bottle in her hand. She was looking out into the horizon and as the sun was setting, casting its fiery glow onto her, Reaver saw what was in her other hand and his eyes widened.

   He watched as she raised a pistol up to her head and then saw the tears coming from her eyes.

   What the hell was she doing? Was she...? Reaver didn’t know what to do. Was she really going to do that? Her gaze was so lost in the horizon that she didn’t notice him approaching.

   When Reaver saw that she had already made up her mind, he opened his mouth.

   “Are you really going to do that?”

   To her left, there was a bedside table on top of it was her pistol. Next to the pistol was a cup of water. There was a piece of paper under the glass which Sparrow reached over to grab. She hissed as a throbbing headache made itself known. She had a hangover, she felt it now, although she didn’t remember how she ended up in this lavish and comfortable bed. She figured the note would tell her as she moved into a sitting position and began reading.

 ***

Light flitted into Sparrow’s vision as her eyes slowly opened. She had to squint against the brightness and allow her eyes to get used to it. When her eyes finally settled, she opened them fully and pushed herself up on her elbows. She looked around and could not remember where she was or how she got into this room. The room was small, but a small fireplace rested at the foot of the bed, a small fire going. There was a beautiful light dangling above her head, the flames within causing the brightness in the room.

   The note was full of elegant handwriting, which made it difficult for Sparrow, who could read but not very well. After a reading it a few times, she could finally decipher the note.

     Might want to drink up, dear, less your body punish you for forcing such horrid liquor down into it. Brought your pistol from the beach back. Although, if you do plan to go through with your earlier intention, try not to get blood on the sheets. I just washed them.

                        -R

   The note had confused her at first, but then the events that happened on the beach earlier came crawling back, one by one. She remembered how close last night was to being her last night ever. She looked over at the pistol and water on her table. She was so close to ending it all. So close to being free and away from the misery that was her life.

   She reached for the water and took a sip, pondering the words on the note. The last memory that she remembered was a scuffle between her and that cursed pirate, Reaver. It ended up with her in his arms, passed out. She paused, her hand freezing in midair stopping her from taking another drink of water.

   How did she end up here exactly? If she was in Reaver’s arms last...

   Sparrow quickly threw the note to the side and looked down at herself and under the covers.

   All of her clothes were on; the only thing missing was her boots. She looked over the side of the bed and saw them sitting there, ready for her to put on. She relaxed a little bit and continued to drink the water. So maybe he didn’t take advantage of her, that was a relief, but she still didn’t like the thought of him tucking her into a bed. She shuddered and chugged the rest of the water. Her headache started to subside, but it was going to bother her all day.

   She picked up her pistol and looked at it. Could she really try to go through with it? Reaver stopped her but for what? What was the point?

   Sparrow groaned and swung herself out of the bed. She put on her boots and left the room, her pistol back in its holster. She recognized where she was when she stepped out of the room. She had figured she couldn’t be back in the inn, its rooms were nowhere near as nice as the one she was just in. As she made her way down the stairs, she recognized the little foyer she had walked in, what almost seemed like ages ago, not knowing what she was getting herself into.

   She was in Reaver’s mansion.

   The last time she was here, she had sold herself to the Shadow Court and almost killed by a bunch of Lucien’s men, which was thanks to Reaver and his betrayal attmept. She walked through the small hall and opened the door where she first met with Reaver. She was surprised to find the room empty and the fireplace dead. She looked around the lavishly decorated room. Various guns hung around on the wall and paintings were scattered in between them. She hadn’t noticed the decoration the first time she was in here. She honestly didn’t care at the time either.

   Sparrow walked around the room and saw there was a book next to some ink and a quill. Curiosity peaked her mind and she went over to the book and opened it. It was a biography about Reaver and there were many lines and words crossed out and replaced with other words. There were footnotes on the pages written in that same lavish handwriting that was on her note. She had to look closely at each letter before she could read them. One of them pointed towards a passage and read “Never once did this, the lies!” Sparrow read over the passage and it was so mischievous she couldn’t help but laugh. She was about to read more, but then the door opened. Sparrow jumped and dropped the book on the table and looked away like nothing happened.

   “My my, you are bad at pretending to not snoop.”

   Sparrow’s shoulders sagged and she rolled her eyes as Reaver stepped into the room. Her gaze drifted over to him and she saw an apple in his hand. It wasn’t bitten into, but it was bright red and looked very good. Sparrow’s stomach growled and she looked away.

   “I had a feeling you might be hungry,” Reaver commented holding the apple up. When Sparrow looked back at him, he threw it to her. She caught it and stared at it before taking a bite. It was so juicy, Sparrow couldn’t help but let out a satisfying moan. She couldn’t remember the last time she actually ate something. Reaver wore his signature smirk as he walked over to the table she was standing by. He looked at the book which had fallen open. “Enjoy my edits to this piece of rubbish?” Reaver asked.

   Sparrow turned from him and walked away. She was holding the apple with both hands and kept her back turned to Reaver.

   “Ah, giving the silent treatment are we? Not even going to relay a ‘thank you’ my way for tucking you into bed and giving you a morning snack?” Reaver pouted, waving his hand about.

   Sparrow swallowed the bite of apple before she spoke. “I didn’t ask for any of that.” She then took another bite.

   “Tch, I do something nice for once in my life and get no thanks in return. How rude.”

   “Maybe you should do nice things more often and people will start saying thank you,” Sparrow retorted.

   “Ick, why would I do that?” Reaver shook his head.

   “Well why did you do it then?” Sparrow shot back, finally turning towards Reaver. She was still biting the half-eaten apple as she glared at him.

   “Well...I didn’t want to be a complete arse to you. You seemed to have been having a rough day,” Reaver shrugged.

   “More like rough year.” Sparrow finished the apple and found a small waste bin to throw the core in. “You know, I’m not thanking you because I’m not thankful for anything you did.”

   “Well that’s just mean,” Reaver replied, leaning against the table, his hands resting on its side. “Didn’t I save your life?”

   “Congratulations,” Sparrow mumbled, rolling her eyes again. “You stopped me from shooting myself. Don’t you feel proud.” Her voice was dripping with absolute sarcasm.

   “Well, I do actually. I probably just saved Albion a week worth of mourning,” Reaver smiled smugly.

   Was there anything nearby Sparrow could throw? No. She groaned and started heading for the door. “Well thanks for that. Now I get to suffer more days.” She left without even looking back.

   It didn’t take long for her to get away from the mansion. No one seemed to be following her. Hell, half of the town wasn’t awake yet. It was the crack of dawn and only a few people were awake, preparing their shops for business. She wanted to get as far away from Bloodstone as she could now that Reaver was back. She had no clue what she was going to do now, but she knew that trying to attempt her actions last night were out of the question. She was at her lowest low last night. Thought all hope lost. But now, she knew she wouldn’t have the strength to try again.

   It was time to just take the blow and suffer.

***

  Two months had passed since her suicide attempt. Two months had passed since she last saw Reaver and for some unknown reason, she couldn’t get that bastard off her mind. She tried to find ways to distract herself, doing bounties, rescuing slaves, working jobs, even finding random partners to take her mind off things. But even during the most intimate moments, that stupid pirate came to her mind.

   It annoyed her so much that she started overworking herself, not daring to go to sleep in case wild dreams came up. Alas, she did have to sleep at sometime. Her dreams were always filled with him. Sometimes they were just drinking together on the beach, other times they were dancing in the middle of an empty ballroom, other times he was holding her wrist, pulling the gun from her head.

   She couldn’t understand why so much of her mind had been filled with him, but he was always there, in the back of her head, waiting to steal her attention.

   She shook her head clear, trying to focus as she walked through Brightwood. Apparently a pack of balverines had infested the area and were slaughtering traveling merchants. According to the bounty, this was a well organized pack as they had a White Balverine leading them. This had peaked Sparrow’s interest. She hadn’t faced a White Balverine and had only heard stories about them. This was no problem for the great Hero of Albion of course.

   Sparrow heard rustling to her right. It was nighttime, of course, so she cautiously pulled out her katana and pointed it at the bush. Meanwhile, her other hand flexed, summoning small spectral blades that swirled around it, waiting to be unleashed. Sparrow crept closer and then slashed at the bush. Nothing was hit, but a bunny bolted away, terrified for its life. Sparrow relaxed and turned around. Her eyes widened as she turned, face to face, with a balverine.

   She cried out when the beast struck her across the face, sending her soaring through the air. She grunted as her back hit a tree and she collapsed on the ground. The balverine started approaching her and two more dropped by its side. Sparrow stood up, clutching her side, knowing that a few ribs were broken. She could feel blood rolling down the side of her face too. She pointed her katana at the beasts and the spectral blades from her other hand flew around the katana and then launched out towards the balverines. As they flew to their targets, the grew becoming full-sized blades. Eight blades, three targets. Three blades pierced the skulls of the two balverines on the side of the third who was hit with only two, one in its chest and another in its eye. It roared and clutched its bleeding eye with one massive paw.

   Sparrow took a deep breath before lunging towards the massive beast, her katana slicing through the air. She summoned fire through her palms and the flames ran up the blade as she struck the beast. She jumped back, the smell of burning flesh starting to hit her nostrils. The balverine roared and fell back, the flames that had caught on a bit of the fur, started to spread rapidly. Sparrow looked around for anymore balverines. Of course, five more appeared behind her. She focused on the balverine in the middle while shooting eight blades, two for each balverine on the sides, and then charged forward. The balverine jumped in the air. Sparrow, knowing balverines, quickly turned around and swept her katana upward, slicing the balverines face in half with her momentum. The other balverines, who were howling because of her spectral blades, focused their pain-induced rage on her.

   Taking another deep breath, trying now to ignore the pain on her side, she spun around, wind gathering at her feet and lifted herself into the air, just as the balverines collided into each other. Sparrow, now in the air, summoned eight more blades, and as she fell, forced them all into the heads of the monsters. Their bodies collapsed as she landed in the middle of them. She was panting now but it stung to breath. If she could not be attacked for a few minutes, her Heroic blood could kick in and start miraculously healing her. Of course, fate would not let that happen as more balverines appeared, dropping down from the trees.

   Sparrow spat on the ground, clearing her mouth from blood and wiped her face as she focused on the dead bodies of the balverines and used their life essence to summon spectral balverines. Now the odds were a little better, but she was still heavily outnumbered. There were at least thirty balverines now coming down on her.

   Yet, she didn’t feel upset. She actually felt glad that there were so many. Maybe this could finally be her chance to be set free. Sparrow summoned her blades again, surrounded by her spectral balverines, and the many more, live balverines who wanted her dead. She didn’t stop fighting by any means.

   As the balverines charged, she was a whirlwind of fury, sending spectral blades flying at anything they could hit, dashing through time to appear behind unsuspecting prey. Yet, more balverines just kept coming. The more she killed, the more spectral minions she had, but it almost seemed like it wasn’t enough. No wonder this pack was so strong. There were so many!

   She was starting to lose her momentum as she kept getting caught in the slashes of two or three balverines. She backed against a rock wall, bleeding from various spots, out of breath. She coughed up some blood and tried to stand tall, raising her katana against all of the balverines now cornering her. She looked up, hoping to see the sky, but her eyes widened when instead she saw a blur of white jump on her.

   She cried out as claws dug into the flesh of her arms, her katana flying out of her hand. She looked up into the face of the White Balverine, its red eyes stark against the snow white fur. It snarled and Sparrow couldn’t help but think of this as her last moment.

   She actually preferred this death. At least this way, she would die a glorious Hero and not some disgraceful, pathetic way not worthy of a Hero. Maybe this is what she had been trying to accomplish these couple months: finding a way to die without doing it herself.

   The White Balverine pulled its claws out of her arms, making her cry out in pain as the blood rushed out. It howled before digging its claws into her sides and picking her up. Sparrow cried out in pain as it lifted her higher. The other balverines howled. Panic spread through Sparrow’s body. She wanted to die, but she didn’t want to suffer any more. Tears started rolling down her face, mixing with the blood and dirt.

   The White Balverine brought her close to its snout and it sniffed her. She growled at the beast. “Just eat me already, you mongrel!”

   It had never once crossed Sparrow’s mind that balverines were intelligent and could understand the human tongue. But it did just now as the balverine snarled and threw her across the clearing. Her already broken ribs were more broken and a cry of pain was forced out of her. Her body stung and hurt and her vision was blurry with tears. The balverines who had made a semi-circle now circled fully around her and the White Balverine, as if this was some entertainment.

   Sparrow looked up into the sky, at the stars and she reached a hand up, more tears rushing down her face because of the pain in her arm. “I’m coming home, sis. I’m coming home.”

   The White Balverine stepped into her view and smacked her hand down. For the first time ever since she had killed Lucien, Sparrow smiled as the White Balverine raised its paw, claws glimmering in the moonlight. She smiled and let out a choked laugh as the White Balverine slashed at her.

   Yet, the blow never came. In fact, the balverine’s body just collapsed onto her. The other balverines howled at the fall of their leader, but then they also dropped to ground. Sparrow barely registered the gunshots. She could only hear her fading heartbeat in her chest. Her vision became so blurred that when a figure appeared above her she reached out and touched their cheek,

   “Rose?” she let out in a faint voice. “Is that you, sis?”

   The face came into focus and Sparrow saw whose cheek she was touching. Her hand fell and her smile dropped. The black heart on his cheek now had a bloody fingerprint next to it.

   He smiled and winked. “Not quite, dear.”

   Sparrow wanted to bleed out faster. But of course her body wanted to heal. Of course it did.

   “Why...are you doing...this to me?” she managed to get out, her voice raspy. More tears started to fill her eyes as she began crying fully. “Why do you...keep coming up?” She looked at Reaver’s face. “Why can’t you let me...die?” She didn’t care that Reaver was seeing her in this state; her body bloodied, broken, and tears pouring out of her eyes.

   “Because I don’t want you to die, little Sparrow,” Reaver finally admitted, pushing the White Balverine’s body off of her. “You’re too interesting to me.” His words reminded her of Theresa, who had came and rescued her after Lucien shot her out of a tower. Theresa also didn’t want her to die.

   Sparrow wanted to slap him. She wanted do anything to hurt him. She wanted to struggle as he picked her up, but her body couldn’t. All she could do was rest her head on his shoulder as he took her to safety. She hated this. Felt that this was a punishment handed to her by the world. Right when she’s about to die and be released from her suffering, he manages to come and save her once more. The thought makes her cry even harder and she buries her face into his neck. Her body hurts, but the physical pain takes away from the mental pain.

   “Please just kill me already,” she whispers. “Just leave me to die. I want to die. I don’t want to live anymore.”

   “Now now, Sparrow, surely you don’t truly want to die?”

   “I do. I just want to die. Please, Reaver. Just let me go.” Sparrow’s voice grows fainter and she becomes weaker. What will it take to just die? She’s begging Reaver to just leave her. She wants him to leave her so badly. She wanted him to leave her on the beach. Why does he care so much? The last time someone prevented her from dying, she was used. What were his motives, then? She can’t ask any of these questions, because the blood loss has made her too tired.

   She slips into unconsciousness.

***

  She hears a voice calling her name and her eyes open up. It’s still dark and she’s still being held. She remembers what happened and whose holding her. She wants some emotion to take over, wants some strength to be able to push herself out of his arms, but she’s too weak. Her body hasn’t healed. “You took too much damage,” Reaver announced, as if reading her thoughts. “Your Heroic blood can’t heal you right now until we stop the bleeding. We’re almost to the Sandgoose in Oakfield. You’ll be fine.”

   She lays her head back on his shoulder. She doesn’t want to be fine. She wants to fade away. But Reaver keeps dragging her back, holding her in his arms as she watches freedom slip away. She hears the bustle of the tavern as they approach. She barely registers what happens when they enter the tavern. The innkeeper sees the bloodied Hero and immediately rushes up the stairs and opens the door to a small room ushering Reaver and Sparrow inside. He disappears and then comes back with bandages as Reaver lays Sparrow down on the bed. Her body screams in pain, but Sparrow shows nothing. She feels the pain, but seems to ignore it. Reaver ushers the innkeeper out of the room and shuts the door.

   Reaver takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair by a desk in the corner of the room. He rolls his sleeves up and grabs the bandages. “Alright, Sparrow, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here,” he insisted.

   He reaches for her jacket, but she doesn’t move. Reaver sighs and grabs her shoulders and pulls her up. Her body hates that, but Sparrow seems to not be there. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care when Reaver takes off her jacket, nor does she care when he cuts her shirt open with a dagger to take it off. She doesn’t care that she’s topless in front of Reaver. He seems to be focused on applying bandages where they need to go rather than her shirtlessness. He cleans up the wounds on her sides where the balverine dug its claws into and then Reaver wraps bandages around her. He focuses on her arms next moving around the bed to tend to the other arm. He cleans up around her face, placing smaller bandages on her temple. Then he looks over her again and sees that her pants are filthy.

   “Your clothes are going to need a wash so none of these wounds get infected. Shall you deal with removing them, or shall I.”

   Sparrow ignores him and just stares blankly at the wall.

   Reaver sighs and snaps his fingers in front of her face. “Land of the living to Sparrow, do you hear me?” Instead of entertaining an answer, she falls back on to the pillows and stares at the ceiling. “Well, obviously you don’t care who does it.” Reaver, now annoyed, takes off her boots, and tries to take off her pants without disrupting the wounds he had just patched up. The bandages around her middle are already red, along with the ones on her arms. He looks over her again, not with the eyes of someone appreciating her body, but with eyes looking for anymore cuts and scrapes or open wounds and broken bones. He notices there’s a slash on her inner thigh and her left shin seems to be broken. He knows the Heroic blood will kick in eventually and heal the bone, but he needs to make a split so she doesn’t try to step on it and make it worse. Although, Reaver doubts Sparrow will be moving anytime soon. “I’ll be right back, don’t...well you won’t move, I can see that.”

   Reaver pulls the blanket over her and leaves the room with her clothes in his arms. Sparrow is still staring at the ceiling and in the silence, the thoughts begin.

   This is the second time Reaver mysteriously appears to stop her from death. The first time, he simply talked her out of it. Now this time, he’s trying to help her so her body can heal. Why? Why the hell is he doing it? Sparrow starts to cry again, her body shuddering causing pain to ripple through her. Does he want her to suffer? Does he want her to continue living and suffer with lost memories? Does he have plans for her? She’s so confused, so miserable she doesn’t know what to think. She just wants to sleep and not wake up. She wished dying would be that easy. Just go to sleep and never wake up.

   Reaver enters the room after a bit with a tray in his hands and more bandages, plus materials to make a splint. He shuts the door and then sees her face. “Oh please don’t cry; you look ugly when you cry.” He sets the tray down on the desk, which is full of fresh food.

   Reaver pulls the cover away and begins working on the slash on her thigh. It doesn’t take long to clean the wound and wrap it up. Making the splint is more difficult, but he manages. “Of course, your body is going to take some time to heal, but you’ll be healed faster than most.” Reaver seems cheery as he grabs the tray and brings it over to Sparrow. He sits on the side of the bed and sits sideways, bringing his leg up to rest the tray on his knee. Sparrow smells the food and glances at the delicious meal before her. She can’t remember when she let herself eat, but the food smells so good.

   “Am I going to have to force feed you, or will you eat on your own?” Reaver asks, looking at Sparrow’s face for any sort of indication of either option.

   She grunts as she tries pushing herself into a sitting position. Reaver reaches out to help her. Once she’s in a sitting position, she grabs the plate with meat on it. The meat has already been chopped up and she’s thankful for that. Her arms are too stiff to do much moving. Reaching for the plate was bad enough.

   Reaver grabs his own plate and puts the tray on the bedside table. He takes a bite of the mutton and then starts pouring what smells like tea.

   They eat in silence for a while until Sparrow ate her fill of meat and fruit and drank her tea. Reaver cleans up their dishes and puts the dirty cloths on the tray. Sparrow watches him. It’s the first time she’s really looked at him since he brought her here. Since he rescued her. She reaches out with a hand and touches his arm. Reaver looks down at her in surprise.

   “Why do you keep doing this?” she asks, her voice quiet.

   Reaver stops what he’s doing and sits by her side. “Why do I keep doing what?” he asks, tilting his head.

   “Why do you keep saving me?” Sparrow’s eyes are filled with nothing. They’re empty. Reaver can see that she’s broken in a different way than he saw on that beach. She had fire then. Now she has nothing.

   “Why do you keep trying to die?” Reaver countered. “You’ve never given me an answer.”

   Sparrow looks away for a moment, at the wall. She considers Reaver’s question. Considers what she wants to tell him. She thinks back on the year that led her to such a state. Feeling empty inside, worthless to herself, no longer hold any meaning. And the worst of all: lonely.

   “Killing Lucien did nothing,” Sparrow says after a moment. Reaver watches her as her eyes grow darker. “For twenty years I wanted nothing more than to see Lucien die. He killed my sister at such a young age then killed me. But Theresa saved me. For ten years she trained me in the ways of the Hero. She told me stories of them, mentored me in their way. She was the closest family I had. When I finally turned eighteen, she sent me on my way on my birthday to begin my journey. It was the first time I was ever allowed out of Bower Lake. I felt free. I felt like I could do whatever I wanted. I was free. I was young and just because I had a special power, I felt like I was better than other people. I stole from them, remembering the days of my youth when I had to steal to survive. Now I stole because it was fun. Then dark memories would always find their way to me. My sister’s death would haunt me and just to get away from it, I gave my flesh away to whatever man or woman came my way.

   Whenever that bad memory came up, I would do anything to get rid of it. But it would always remind me of my goal. I wanted to kill Lucien. I wanted him dead so badly. Then Theresa told me I’d have to be stuck in the Spire. I was stuck in that living hell for ten whole years. I was forced to starve people, beat people, kill people. Whenever I was forced to torture someone, they would cry out about their family and it hurt me. I had nothing to distract me. I knew Lucien was so close but there was nothing I could do. Those people who cried and begged for their life...I think that was my breaking point. After years in that Spire, I finally come back. My mind tortured by more than just my sister’s death. That’s when I felt like I needed more than ever to kill Lucien.

   I started treating people better. Some people cried because their families were taken away by Lucien. That’s when I realized I wasn’t the only one suffering. Lucien had caused us all pain. He caused me pain, caused Hammer and Garth pain, and caused almost everyone in Albion pain. It made me want to kill him even more. And I told myself, I wouldn’t allow other people to suffer anymore.” Sparrow paused and looked at Reaver. He was still listening, intently actually. She was a bit surprised. She watched his face as she told her next part. “When I made your deal to the Shadow Court, I didn’t have to be the one who sacrificed myself. There was a woman there. Her name was Elizabeth. She didn’t have a clue how she got there but she was scared. When the Shadow Court told us that whoever had that Dark Seal would lose their youth and beauty she cried out. She begged me to spare her. She cried out that she had a family. She had a younger sister that she took care of. When she told me that, I knew I couldn’t make her suffer like I did. So that’s why I did it. That’s why I sacrificed myself. I needed you to join us or else we couldn’t kill Lucien. Else I couldn’t make him pay. And that’s all I wanted.” Reaver’s eyes widened a bit as Sparrow told her story, but he made no other move.

   Sparrow looked down at her hands as she continued. “When the time came, I didn’t hesitate. But I didn’t kill him. Not how I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him as I cut his limbs off. But one strike of my blade and he was falling down the Spire. I felt nothing as he fell. Then Theresa appeared and I was told to make a wish. And I remembered the vow I made to myself. I swore to not let other people suffer like I did. I had the choice to bring back my sister and my damn dog. But what the hell was the point of bringing back one girl and an animal? When there were thousands of people who had died. So I brought them all back. I had officially sacrificed everything for Albion, for the people. And when it was all over, everyone left. You and Garth went to Samarkand, Hammer went to the north and Theresa...She just cast me out. Tossed me away like some old toy that was broken and no longer had a use.” Sparrow clenched her fist. “I was all alone and had no one. Yes, the people of Albion loved me, but there was no one who actually knew me. No one could see past the Hero and see me. For a year I tried to fill my life with some sort of purpose but I found none. I tried to make friends, but no one could speak to me normally; they were just in awe of me. I had no one.

   What was the point of living? That day on the beach I had reached my all-time low. I was so close to being set free and you had to come along and fuck it up.” Sparrow finally had emotion in her eyes as she looked back at Reaver. “Why? Why did you stop me?! Why did you save me this time? You don’t care! You can’t. You don’t know what it’s like to be alone. You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you care about because you never have. You don’t give a shit about anyone except yourself. So tell me Reaver: why the fuck did you do it? Why did you just suddenly appear when I was about to end it all? Why the hell did you come back?!” Sparrow was nearly shouting now and Reaver had to look away. Sparrow scoffed. “I can’t believe I just told you, out of all people, everything. Like you would even fucking understand. You just like seeing me suffer don’t you?”

   Reaver looked back, and he was smiling. “Do you ever think that maybe it’s fate?”

   Sparrow stared at him disbelief. “Fate?! What nonsense!”

   “Oh come now, it makes sense doesn’t it? You waste away all alone after killing Lucien and you see no purpose in your life. And then the day you just happen to try to take your life, I come back. I’d say that’s pretty convenient.”

   “I’d say it’s a fucking nightmare. Ever since that day on the beach, you just stick around in my mind like a little leech. I try to get you out of my head but you just stay there and torment me. I don’t want to live, don’t you see that? Just because your immortal doesn’t mean anyone else wants to fucking be that way. You can’t force people to keep on living. I’m not like you. I don’t want to live forever. I want to fucking die. Because I have nothing to live for. And yet you just keep torturing me like a walking nightmare!”

   Reaver chuckled. “But at least I’m better looking than most nightmares right?”

   Sparrow grabbed her hair hair and screamed. “Argh! You are so annoying! Just leave me alone!”

   Reaver clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I see that you might be determined to kill yourself any chance you get, so I’m not going to let that happen.”

   Sparrow’s eyes widened and she stared at Reaver. He could see the utter disbelief in her eyes and the absolute hatred she had for him. It made him happy to see that fire roaring again. He had managed to bring it back.

   “You. Are such. A little. Piece. Of. Shit!” Sparrow yelled and smacked Reaver.

   He was surprised. He rubbed his cheek. That stung. How fast was her body healing? “I’m impressed,” Reaver laughed as he continued rubbing his cheek. “For someone who almost lost her arms, that was a pretty impressive slap.”

   “Yeah well I can’t believe what you just said. You want to make sure I don’t die? After I literally said it’s torture to stay alive? Your really are a fucking monster!”

   Reaver looked back at her and sighed. “Why don’t you just find another reason to live instead of trying to throw your life away. Surely there’s something out there that you’ve never done that you could do now.”

   Sparrow rolled her eyes. “I’ve already tried that. I have no purpose to live. There’s nothing in this world that could make me not want to die.”

   Reaver gave a sly smirk. “What if I gave you a reason to live?”

   “You give me a stronger reason to die.”

   Reaver laughed. “Oh but you don’t see it the way I see it. The way I see it is that I already do give you a reason to live. On the beach, you were so close to killing yourself and then I appeared and that gave you fire to fight. Tonight, as I was patching you up, your eyes were empty and full of nothing. Now they’re full of fire directed towards me.” Reaver smiled bigger. “The way I see it, I’m the only person who can keep you from death. The only person who gives you fire.”

   Sparrow opened her mouth to argue with him, but...he wasn’t wrong. He made her feel alive, even if it was to hit him and shout at him. But it still didn’t make sense why he wanted her alive. “Why do you care so much about keeping me alive? I’ve already given away half my life just so you get to stay stupidly young.”

   Reaver moved closer to her. “What if I told you it was because you are the most interesting person I have ever seen in my life. One of the most selfless people ever. You gave up all your happiness just so the rest of the world, including myself, could stay happy. When there are several people who don’t deserve happiness. Why the hell would you ever do that? Sure, you were reminded about your sister in the Spire and the people who had families, but why would you still do that?”

   “Maybe because I’m not a heartless bitch like you.” Sparrow snarled.

   “I’m not heartless. I’ll have you know I can make great love,” Reaver purred.

   Sparrow scoffed. “Ha! Sure you could. I find it hard for someone with no care for anyone except himself can make “great love”.”

   Reaver raised a brow and smirked. “I could show you. Maybe once your healed up.”

   Sparrow’s cheeks went red. She cursed at herself. Why?! Why did her cheeks heat up at that?! She turned her head. “I would sooner sleep with balverines than with you.”

   “Mm, I’d say you were pretty close to that already. Those balverines did look like they were about to enjoy eating you up.”

   “You have such a dirty mind Reaver.”

   “Centuries of life, dear,” Reaver winked.

   Sparrow rolled her eyes.

   “I will say I agree with those balverines though. You do look ravishing, even with your hair in a complete mess and such a deepening scowl on your face. My you look angry.”

   Sparrow growled and grabbed Reaver’s collar. “Listen here, shitstain, you better choose your next words carefully or I’m about to end your long life right here right now.” Five spectral blades appeared, ready to plunge into Reaver at any second.

   Reaver was unaffected by the threat and simply smiled bigger. Sparrow waited for his response but she never got one. Instead, Reaver’s lips were on hers. It was such a surprise that the blades immediately disappeared, fading into nothing. Her grip on Reaver’s collar loosened and he grabbed her hand. He pulled back, that shit-eating grin on his face as he held her hand. Sparrow was stunned. Her other hand slowly reached up and touched her lips. She could still feel his warmth of his kiss and she honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. Her cheeks burst into color and she went limp.

   “I have a proposition,” Reaver spoke, caressing the back of her hand as he spoke. “What if I gave you a reason to live. Found you some purpose so fulfilling you would no longer want to die?”

   Sparrow’s eyes drifted to Reaver’s and she found sincerity, much to her surprise.

   He had her attention. Good. “Here’s all I ask: You travel around with me on adventures to wherever and I will find you a purpose to live. Stand by my side, and I will find you that purpose.” Reaver wore a smile that showed he was telling the truth, that he was actually sincere about this promise.

   “Why...Why should I say yes to this?” Sparrow stammered, still in shock of his abrupt kiss.

   “Because as I said, I find you so intriguing. I have lived for many, many, many years yet have not seen a single person like you before. Is it so hard to believe that I simply want to see what you can do? I want to see how someone like you can be so selfless. See why you would make yourself suffer through so much just for other people. For people who don’t really care about you.” Reaver pulled her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss there. “So what do you say, little Sparrow?”

   Sparrow had to think about this. What would be the point of traveling with Reaver to wherever for whatever reason? Well, it would give her something different to do. But she knew the real reason he was asking her to travel by his side.

   She wouldn’t be alone. Even if she had mixed feelings about this man, the main one being confusion, at least she wouldn’t be alone. And he was right, he’s been able to bring fire into her heart by annoying the piss out of her. If anyone could pull her out of a drunken stupor of depression, it was Reaver. But if she said no, would he finally leave her alone and let her die? But what would happen when she did die. Would she actually get to see her sister again? Here this man was, offering her a chance to live again on whatever short amount of time she had. She never wondered what actually would happen if she had killed herself. Would she actually get to see her sister? Or would she just be doomed to wander around aimlessly as a ghost? He was offering her a chance to live.

   And companionship.

   She realized that’s what she’s wanted all this time. She hasn’t wanted some random purpose to live. She just hated being alone. No matter how intimate she got with people or how many she hung out with, she was still alone. People only saw her as a Hero, not as Sparrow. Here was Reaver, a Hero himself, who saw her for who she was. He was giving her a chance to do something with her life. He didn’t see her as a Hero. He saw her. He saw Sparrow. Part of her wondered if he had ever felt this way. If he had ever wanted to be seen as normal and not as a Hero.

   Reaver was offering her the key to solve her problem. For how heartless or selfish he was, it was still someone who could see Sparrow for who she was. She’s not even sure if Hammer or Garth could have seen her like that. Theresa only ever saw her as a means to an end.

   Sparrow sighed and then finally looked at Reaver. “Fine. I’ll take you up on this proposition.”

   Reaver smiled and patted her hand. “Good choice, I’m sure you won’t regret this.” He kissed her hand again.

   Sparrow finally pulled it away from him. “This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to sleep with you whenever,” she added, looking away, a small blush rising on her cheeks.

   Reaver shrugged. “If the choice ever came to balverines or me, would you still choose them?”

   Sparrow side-eyed him. “What do you think?”

   “I’m hoping you’d choose me since I don’t think the balverines would be interested in bringing you much pleasure rather than themselves.”

   “And are you suggesting you’re different than a pack of balverines?” Sparrow challenged.

   “I am. Balverines are savages, they know nothing of pleasure. I, however, have had centuries of experience. I know much about providing pleasure.” Reaver smirked. “And besides, I’ve already seen you mostly naked.”

   Sparrow shrieked and punched him in the arm. “Get out you smarmy bastard!” She pulled the sheets higher to her chin. Reaver stood up and grabbed the tray laughing the entire time.

   “Oh this should be nice. Tatty-bye, little Sparrow!” With that, Reaver vanished behind the door. Sparrow rolled her eyes and relaxed.

   She didn’t know what exactly she had gotten herself into, but it was surely to be more interesting than trying to die all the time. Sparrow turned her head and saw that Reaver’s jacket was still on the chair by the desk. She reached for it, but couldn’t get it. She summoned a gust of wind around it and then let it float toward her. She sat up with the jacket in her hands. She wanted to get back at Reaver for being a raunchy little shit, but how?

   She could burn the jacket, but she didn’t want to burn it completely. But that gave her an idea. She spread the jacket across her legs and then put her hand on the back of it in a random spot. She burnt a small hole in one spot, and then another, and another, and she kept burning little spots in the jacket until there were enough holes to be annoying. She snickered to herself and threw the jacket back on the chair. That’s what he gets for forgetting stuff in her presence.

   Sparrow slept soundly for the first time in a while that night.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Oh boy this is a first for me. So I was rewatching Avatar The Last Airbender while thinking about Fable and decided to do a little crossover with the two featuring my Fable family. I started out with my Hero of Brightwall, Aelyn and made her into an airbender. I looked up a lot of airbender outfits on pinterest and got some ideas and I think I did pretty good. I’m proud of this little crossover and will be working on the other three family members at a later date (probably do firebender Logan when I get a good enough idea for his outfit).

I tried some new things and obviously it’s not perfect, but I managed to think of a pose and drew it myself. So like, I’m really happy about that. Don’t mind the background I had no idea what I was doing honestly. I’m just happy with how this turned out.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Okay so I wanted to see the voice actors for Fable 3 and their thoughts on it and bless the fucking gods there's an actual Lionhead Video Diary with the cast and I HOLY FUCK DID NOT REALIZE SIMON PEGG WAS BEN FINN. You've got fucking John Cleese who I love, Michael Fassbender whose an incredible actor and amazing voice actor (and should do more), Ben Kingsley who is fucking awesome, and fucking SIMON PEGG. It's so interesting to see these actors take on these roles since it's a bit different than what they're used to BUT IT'S SO COOL!!

[annoyed-galaxy]

Okay I’ma be honest with ya, I have no idea was I was doing here, other than trying to do some new coloring stuff. The background and all that yeah is shite, but give me a break I didn’t have an idea for this drawing other than COLORING. I’m actually happy with how the coloring turned out and may further implement it. ALSO I AM SO PROUD OF THAT FUCKING HAND LIKE LOOK AT IT. Actually overall, I’m really happy with how this turned out. The background was just me playing with a bunch of random brushes I got for CSP, but yeah! I’m proud of this really.

As I was drawing this, I did get some little story behind this I suppose.

This is 12 year old Aelyn crying because her mother literally just died and Logan had to become king, leaving her alone for long periods of time. She wasn’t as close to her mother as Logan was, but she still loved her. So yeah it’s just Aelyn grieving over Sparrow’s death.

I know I will need to do more practice with this, but I’m happy with how the pose turned out and everything and THAT HAND IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*. Now excuse me as I crawl into a corner.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Fable 2 Aftermath

Aka I couldn’t find a title for this so this is just what I’m gonna call it.

This takes place one year after Sparrow has defeated Lucien. It’s a small scene and is what will start my Sparrow and Reaver’s little romance that will go on to Fable 3. I will add as a warning: there is an attempted suicide in this. Just in case that would trigger someone, I’m adding that here.

I hope you will enjoy this little story and let me know what you think. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a second part to this or just more in general as I figure out what the hell my characters are going to be.

Enjoy!

   She had done it. She accomplished her mission. She exacted her revenge against Lucien.

   And yet...she still felt empty inside.

  It had been a year since she killed Lucien and made her wish in the Spire. Not much happened in that year. She got a statue erected in her honor and she bought a lot of houses and stores and made the rent and prices affordable for the less fortunate people. People saw her as a selfless saint. She had the chance to bring back her sister and even her beloved dog, but instead chose to bring back thousands upon thousands of random strangers. The people of Albion praised her. When she walked the streets, people would cheer and weep at her mere presence.

   But she still felt empty. She was alone. All three of the Heroes had left and Theresa had basically kicked her out of the seer’s life completely. She had begun regretting her choice. But anytime those thoughts came up, she would get herself so drunk she could barely stand or find some random person to warm her bed and take her mind off things. She was almost reverting back to her young adult self, the selfish woman who came from Bower Lake with only one goal in mind.

   Now she was just a hollow shell of her former self. She had no regard for her life anymore. After all, she had sacrificed her youth and beauty for one bastard.

  For some reason that thought had kept coming to her over and over. Why did she do that? Why did she sacrifice her own youth and beauty instead of forcing it onto that random girl in the Shadow Court? Why did she choose to bring back strangers rather than her beloved sister and puppy?

   Thinking about these things didn’t help.

   Sparrow looked at the bottle in her hand. It was already empty. She sighed and threw it to her left, then proceeded to take another bottle from the crate on her right. There were four bottles left, with three missing. She had bought the crate from one of the vendors in Bloodstone and had taken the thing down to the beach where she sat in the sand and stared out into the ocean, drinking her life away. She could see the Spire from where she sat. It didn’t help with the memories floating in her head. Anytime a memory tried to come up, she would take a swig from the bottle and wash it away.

   Was this healthy?

   Of course not.

   Did Sparrow care?

   Hell no.

   It had been a year and Sparrow was trying to find some purpose in her life. She did what she could to help out around communities such as Old Town and Oakfield, but they never satisfied her. Nowadays, nothing really did. She missed her dog. She missed playing fetch with him and cuddling with him. She almost missed him more than she missed her sister. It was a pain to admit that, but Sparrow was young when she lost her sister. The only reason her vengeance grew so much was because of Theresa’s careful taming.

   And when the end came, Theresa tossed Sparrow to the side, not a care in the world. Not a single goodbye or anything. At least the Heroes had said goodbye, which was a surprise because Sparrow had not expected Reaver to say goodbye at all. But if that smarmy bastard had some decency to say a farewell, how come Theresa, Sparrow’s mentor, didn’t?

   The thought made Sparrow clench her teeth and want to throw something at the Spire. The closest thing to her was a seashell. Poor thing soared through the sky as Sparrow threw it as hard as she could. It traveled pretty far before Sparrow saw its splash. Sparrow clicked her tongue and took another drink.

   The sun was already going down, but Sparrow had no care. The moon could have made its lap across the sky and the sun come back and she wouldn’t have noticed. She barely noticed time anymore. It was irrelevant to her. She was going to die young, she knew it. What purpose in life did she have now?

   A dangerous glance dragged her attention to the new pistol she carried on her side. She had put her crossbow up in a place of honor and picked up a pistol. The age of crossbows was coming to an end and it was becoming more troublesome to carry around. The pistol was light and did more damage than her beloved crossbow. But it was also easier to use for darker needs.

   Sparrow took the pistol out of its holster and examined it. It was a beautiful thing. Black and gold like her crossbow; she would have had it no other way. It was one of those fancy clockwork pistols that only the Spire guards had used. Five bullets in one little clip. However, her pistol only had one bullet right now.

   Sparrow didn’t know when it struck her, but she no longer felt a reason to live. She did meaningless tasks everyday. Saving a bunch of slaves, killing hobbes and balverines, chopping wood, making swords; none of it meant anything to her anymore. She tried contributing to communities by teaching young boys and girls how to fight and protect themselves for when there were no more Heroes in Albion. Some people giggled at the notion, thinking it was unnecessary. But it entertained the children so they let the great Hero do it.

   Yet even that never helped close the gaping hole in Sparrow’s chest. In fact, it made her even more depressed; seeing all the children laughing and happy. She even saw siblings playing like she and Rose used to. Only these children never had to suffer through the things Sparrow and Rose did. Their families didn’t know poverty or struggle, and that was thanks to Sparrow. They never knew heartbreak or hardship. They all thought of Sparrow as the greatest Hero of all time, but she never saw that herself. After the ten years she spent in that awful Spire, wasting away and hurting other people, she would have given everything just to make others not suffer.

   She didn’t realize how much she would make herself suffer through.

   Another swig from the bottle brought Sparrow to the present, to the pistol resting in her hand. Maybe Albion would mourn her death, but then again, they were okay. People were happy. People did not suffer. And they wouldn’t for a long time. No matter Theresa’s intentions, surely they couldn’t be evil right? Would she really kill everyone in Albion with the Spire?

   Sparrow honestly didn’t care now. She wouldn’t live to see what would happen.

   The Hero took a deep breath and brought the pistol to the side of her head. There was no point in living now. She could join her sister and dog in the afterlife. She would see her lost parents again. Maybe she could be happy. It had been so long since she smiled. So long since she felt something good.

   Tears started to roll down her cheeks. She just wanted to be happy. She could make other people happy, but why couldn’t she make herself happy? She wanted to give herself to other people just so they could be happy but why did she torment herself? Why did she do these things to herself? She had no value left in her. She had already given her flesh away multiple times. Gave her blade even more times. She would jump in front of incoming fire just to save some merchants without a single regard to her life. She had no longer valued her life.

   She honestly couldn’t remember when that started. If that was before or after the Spire. Maybe it was right after she left Bower Lake. Sure she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to save someone, but she didn’t love her body enough to cherish it. Gave it away freely to distract herself from bad memories. She thought after her time in the Spire, she would have changed. But...she didn’t. Not really. The only thing that changed was that she cared more about people. She had never loved herself. She had never placed any value into her life. She always thought that Rose should have been the one to survive. To become a great Hero. Not Sparrow.

   She had no meaning anymore. She was always Theresa’s pawn. She was a means to an end. Killing Lucien did nothing to quell that vengeance. Hell, after a while, she wondered if that was ever what she truly wanted. At first, maybe, but in the end, she just needed to kill a madman. Everything she had ever done led up to this moment.

   Sitting on a beach, drunk on cheap alcohol, with a gun to her head. Sparrow looked out into the horizon, watching as the sun cast a fiery blaze across the ocean and behind the Spire. It was a beautiful image. And it would be the last one she ever saw.

   “Are you really going to do that?”

   A voice pulled Sparrow out of her thoughts, her eyes away from the horizon.

   A lone figure was swaggering into her view. She couldn’t quite tell who it was, the setting sun was already casting shadows on the beach. “Who are you?” she called out, her voice raspy and hoarse from lack of use and excessive amount of alcohol consumption.

   Her hand lowered the gun from her head and rested in her lap. Whoever it was, they stopped her from ending it all.

   Sparrow finally could make out the swaggering walk, the lush hair that stuck out well too-groomed for one’s own sake, that sassy hand on hip, the cape flowing behind. Now she wished she had pulled the trigger as Reaver fully came into view. He stood a couple feet away and had that little shit-eating smirk on his face that made Sparrow want to grab his hair and slam him into the ground.

   She snorted and took a swig from her bottle, no longer interested in the Hero of Skill’s sudden arrival.

   “Well that’s just rude!” Reaver feigned offense, putting a hand to his forehead. “Is this how you greet an old friend?”

   “We’re not friends,” Sparrow let out, glaring at the horizon. She refused to meet the pirate’s eyes. “You would sooner stab me in the back than call me a friend.”

   Reaver clicked his tongue. “Well that’s a rude assumption.”

   Sparrow glared at him, really considering summoning a blade and piercing it through his pretty little immortal throat. Reaver chuckled at the look Sparrow gave him, before moving closer and sitting by her side. “Mind if I take one?” Reaver asked already reaching for one of the bottles in her crate.

   “Do you like that hand?” she asked without looking at him. A spectral blade formed above his hand and hovered dangerously close.

   Reaver couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled his hand away. “My, aren’t you a grump. I mean I imagined something was wrong when you were about to put a bullet through your head. Tell me, were you really going to go through with that?”

   Sparrow didn’t know why this little bastard cared if she did shoot herself or not. If he hadn’t said anything, she’d probably be a corpse right now. “Why the hell do you care?” she growled. She never looked in his direction, but rather kept her attention focused on the horizon.

   “Well I’m just curious. Aren’t you a celebrated Hero? Albion absolutely adores you! You saved thousands of lives. I imagine you’d be showered with all sorts of gifts. Maybe be swooned to some alluring man or woman and have several children by now.” Reaver cocked his head to the side. “So how come such a loved person would dare put a gun to her head?”

   Sparrow scoffed. “Like you would fucking care. What does it matter to you? Would you weep if you had found a cold body here rather than a drunken husk?”

   “Someone’s frisky.”

   Sparrow flung her fist out, ready to make contact with the smarmy bastard only for the little shit to casually dodge. Sparrow pulled back and bore daggers into whatever pathetic soul Reaver harbored. His smirk grew wider as he looked this woman up and down. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red from tears and bloodshot with an overwhelming amount of alcohol. Her Will lines even seemed dimmer than they were when he first saw her.

   “You really have let yourself go. It’s only been a year,” Reaver commented.

   Sparrow wanted to pummel that pretty face into a pulp, but knew he would just dodge her drunken attacks. She turned back forward and chugged the rest of her bottle. She threw it to the side, but didn’t reach for another. “It’s only been a year and you’re already back from Samarkand,” Sparrow replied after some silence. “What happened there? Crawled into the wrong bed and get in trouble?”

   Reaver smiled at her teasing tone. He really did like a person with a quippy tongue. “Oh no, I didn’t crawl into any wrong beds. Actually they were all the right ones. The people over there are a little more exotic than our humble Albion citizens.”

   Sparrow snorted. “Wow. Did you spend your entire time there sleazing about?”

   “Actually no. My visit was cut short by a certain Will user.” Reaver waved his hand around. “He was a little upset that I tried to kill him and nearly turned me into a crisp.”

   Sparrow glanced at Reaver. “You tried to kill Garth, failed and barely escaped?”

   Reaver nodded.

   “Shame. Would’ve been nice to see a burnt ass pirate.”

   “Oh come now, where would the fun be in that!” Reaver threw his arms in the air. “I’m too handsome to die.”

   “Haven’t you lived for a couple hundred centuries? I’m pretty sure your time is coming to an end.”

   “Well, maybe, but I somehow always manage to find a way unscathed.”

   Sparrow rolled her eyes. “How unfortunate for society.” She finally reached for one of the bottles and popped the cork. There was no hesitation as she ingested the foul liquid. She had already drank three of these bottles. Her taste buds had gone numb to the horrid taste.

   Reaver and Sparrow sat in silence for a while. Long enough for the moon to rise behind them casting their shadows on the sand. Sparrow’s mind drifted away, back into deep thoughts. The pistol was still in her lap and she wondered if she would actually go through with her original impulse. Or did Reaver ironically save her? Was there a reason for this? No, she shook her head. Just random chance. Then again, Reaver could have watched as she pulled the trigger. Unless maybe he wanted a go at her himself.

   “Tell me something, shithead, why’d you stop me?” Sparrow finally asked, breaking the silence.

   “Hm?” Reaver responded, tilting his head.

   “You could have watched me blow my brains out, but you didn’t. You said something and stopped me.” She turned to him. “Why?”

   Reaver shrugged. “I didn’t think you were actually going to do it, whether I had said something or not. I was simply surprised someone like you would even think about that.”

   “What do you mean someone like me?”

   “Tch, you have everything you could have ever wanted in the world! People shower you with love and praise and would throw themselves before you begging to take your hand in marriage. And you have the gall to go and off yourself?!” Reaver let out a condescending laugh. “Truly pathetic.”

   Sparrow snarled and threw her bottle to the side, the alcohol spilling and staining the sand. Reaver didn’t have enough time to react before Sparrow was on top of him, her hands around his throat. “Of course a bastard like you would say that!” She squeezed harder and Reaver grabbed her arms, trying to push her off of him. “Of course you would think my life is so grand! You’ve probably never even given a shit about anyone but yourself! Actually I know that’s true because you tricked me into giving away my life, just so you can stay young!” Sparrow snarled harder and could feel Reaver’s throat slowly collapsing in her hands. “Well I’m going to take your fucking immorality you little shit!”

   Sparrow squeezed harder and harder, but did not expect the breath to be knocked out of her by a knee in her back. The blow caused her to loosen her grip and gave Reaver enough time to roll around and pin her to sandy ground. He pinned her arms above her head and dug his knees into her sides. It took him a few moments to catch his breath and all the while, Sparrow struggled. But in her drunken state and current position, she was too weak to force Reaver off of her.

   “I must say, that is the closest...anyone has gotten to killing me,” Reaver chuckled, still trying to collect stolen breath. “And that is the closest anyone has personally gotten to me to kill me. Most attempts on my life are far away.” He smiled down at Sparrow who was still snarling. She looked like a savage dog, ready to rip his heart out if he were to let go of her. “I love that fire in your eyes. It does things,” Reaver purred leaning in closer.

   “This fire will manifest if you’re not careful, shitstain,” Sparrow growled.

   “Oh ho ho, you have such a foul mouth. I like that.”

   Sparrow tried to push herself off the ground, but Reaver had her arms in such a weird position that she couldn’t move. It didn’t help that he had squeezed his legs against hers, preventing her from kicking at him like he did with her. Maybe if she could flick her hand properly, she could get a spectral blade to pierce through his skull. She figured it was worth a shot and began moving her hands.

   Reaver clicked his tongue and shook his head. His hands moved to her own and he locked their fingers together. “I’ve always considered Will users cheaters. There’s no fairness in magic.” Sparrow growled and tried to throw Reaver off balance somehow. Nothing worked. The pirate had her pinned completely. She was too weak and drunk to actually do anything.

   She relaxed and let her head rest in the sand. “Just fucking end me already. I’m tired of these bloody games Reaver.”

   Reaver raised an eyebrow. “End you? What, do you think I would kill you?”

   “Really?” Sparrow asked sarcastically. “You literally tried to kill Garth, had originally tried to betray me to Lucien, and even said you would try to kill me. So yes. I think you would kill me. And honestly at this point, if you did, I’d probably kiss you.”

   Reaver smiled at that last part. “Is that what would it take to get a kiss from you? Simply end your life?”

   Sparrow rolled her eyes. “Yeah have fun kissing a corpse you bastard.”

   Reaver leaned in closer, dangerously close. “What if I got that kiss before I ended your life.”

   Sparrow frowned. “I wasn’t being serious.”

   “Oh but I was.” Reaver smiled again.

   Red spread across Sparrow’s cheeks. She had many men and women flirt with her, but they usually fell on deaf ears and had never affected her. Even when she did take them to bed. Most of the time, those lovestruck idiots were simply a distraction to her. A way to ease her mind of things.

   But the way Reaver flirted with her was different. She didn’t know what it was, but the redness on her cheeks clearly showed something was amiss.

   And she hated it.

   She hated that this scumbag piece of shit was making her blush.

   He was close enough that Sparrow could headbutt him. Reaver cried out, but didn’t let go of Sparrow’s hands. He simply fell back, pulling Sparrow up with him. She saw this as her chance to break free, but before she could react, Reaver had quickly recovered and had her arms twisting behind her back. They were even closer now and it made Sparrow’s skin crawl.

   “You’ll have to do better than that darling,” Reaver smirked. “With the amount of times I’ve been headbutted, I’m surprised there isn’t a permanent dent on my beautiful face.”

   “I’m going to rip your pretty face to shreds if you don’t let me go,” Sparrow hissed.

   “Now how would you do that with your hands behind you back and legs in no position to overthrow me. You’re completely drunk, I’m still astonished you can speak full words. You have no advantage here. How exactly are you going to beat me?” Reaver asked, his words filled with challenge.

   He was right. With her hands awkwardly bent behind her back and Reaver sitting on her lap, his legs keeping hers from moving, there really wasn’t anything she could do. She couldn’t even try another headbutt without risking pulling an arm out of socket. And there was the fact that she was drunk. She could feel the buzz coming over her body fully now, because of the movements she had made. Her head was dizzy.

   It was weird, the thoughts now coming to her mind. How was she here, trapped in the arms of the man who basically stopped her from taking her life? Now all she wanted was to sleep. No dark thoughts tried to pry themselves into her mind. No feeling of loss or self-hatred. She was just tired.

   Sparrow sighed and let her head rest on Reaver’s shoulder. “I submit. I’m too tired to fight back. Just do whatever. I don’t care at this point.” She closed her eyes and relaxed. She wasn’t going to fight him. Even if he let her go and left her on the beach, she’d just curl up in a ball and sleep, the sound of the ocean being her only comfort.

   She could feel sleep starting to take her as Reaver let her arms go. Her shoulders stung as her arms fell to her sides, but she didn’t care. She was too tired to care. She barely reacted to Reaver picking her up bridal style and taking her somewhere. The last thing she saw was the Spire in the distance over Reaver’s shoulder before the dark embrace of sleep finally took over.