#I’m tired as heck this page was a nightmare and it doesn’t even have color

[pixlokita]

Part 20!!! Finally end of day 1 !!! TTvTT)

Previous - next- first

[fairy-spring]

Um hello so I have a problem and love First Link but literally nobody posts anything about him unless it’s Hylink soooooo here I go!

I’m sorry it’s all just flat colors, I’m really bad at shading and didn’t want to ruin an okay drawing wzxetcvuyzes

I have a whole lot of headcanons about this man, but for the sake of it I’m gonna put it all under the cut.

Okay so about this guy:

- I call him Forge instead of First, Origin, or Red, because he reforges the Master Sword and all that.

- Forge is a serious bean, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like messing around with his loved ones. In fact, he makes fun of his wife like... every chance he gets.

- Along that same note, I ship him with an OC because I’m garbage and want to give this man a life outside of the goddess Hylia and his destiny that literally comes crashing down on him. He also has an adopted son.

- Forge has a beard because his wife always wanted to see him with one, but he was stubborn and refused to let his facial hair grow until he was released from prison.

- He has recurring nightmares and visions of Demise’s conquering the land of Hylia, and his attempt to warn his government results in him being falsely imprisoned for four years. Lord Dagianis believed Forge was attempting to usurp his position, and that’s why he was arrested.

- Prison kinda destroyed him. Upon seeing his reflection for the first time in four years, he couldn’t even recognize his own face. His physical condition deteriorated due to lack of exercise, to the point that he can’t even really run anymore. His closest friends are always at his side to make sure he’s safe, and his lack of physical strength is the reason why he wears so little armor. It’s literally too heavy for him to wear.

- Forge’s best friend is Orville. They grew up together and became Knights of Hylia together. They stayed in close contact all the way up until he was imprisoned.

- Even though he was a Knight of Hylia, Forge was actually more of a blacksmith than anything. His uncle was a blacksmith, and his late father was a knight, which was the reason he was even taken in to become a page.

- Forge is kiiiiinda really bitter against Hylia. She doesn’t regard her chosen people with any sort of humanity, on account of being a giant loftwing watching everyone in the land of Hylia like it’s a giant ant farm. She sees him more as a means to an end, and he knows that. Even still, he agrees to do her bidding for the sake of rescuing the Hylians, solely because it’s the right thing to do.

- Forge has traveled all around the land of Hylia with his wife, and through this they’d befriended the other races dwelling there as well, such as the Gorons and the Sheikah. He later scrambles to recruit them to combat Demise’s forces after being released from prison.

- His cape isn’t just a cape. They’re the hecking drapes. The second he set foot out of the dungeons and back in the massive fortress he once served in, he just tore the drapes off their hooks and now that’s his cape.

- Forge doesn’t have many scars. The most notable are the scars on his wrists, caused by the shackles that had bound him for so long. He’s also a very tired man, and he needs to get some sleep.

- Forge dies at age 32/33, and was imprisoned when he was 28/29.

But ummmmmmm that’s basically all I have for this man, I hope this is all okay oof

[lokisgame]

A Case Of You

First date. Excerpt from Aprons And Scrubs. THE SONG

Thank God it wasn't exactly Valentine's. Initially the plan was to take her out on the 14th, but that kiss ruined his plans in the best way possible. He thought about the crowds, the tacky hearts and forced romance and decided it wasn't them. The place he chose was small but had no problem with his last minute reservation and he was confident the food would be great. Mulder debating what to wear, decided to go with fun, with a dark shirt and suit as a backdrop for the vibrant tie. At 6:30 he knocked at her door, a bunch of red carnations in hand. Roses weren't him either, pretty at the florist, dead two days after. Carnations lasted for weeks, if taken care of, a girl in college told him once, and he lived by it. Not Phoebe, damn her blackened soul, she cared nothing for hearts and flowers. Especially not his.

Scully had the rare weekend off. She took the time to get ready glad that a dress was no problem at least. A slim fitting little black dress, she went for simple elegance with only her gold cross and diamond earrings, a gift from her father, after she graduated from med school, chosen as a nod to his memory. Hair pinned up, with a few strands framing her face, she knew that if by any chance... no, too soon to think about that, she scolded herself trying to suppress a smile. It's just dinner, just a night out... With Mulder... who kissed like a god. How did he know what she liked? Most guys fumbled around, missed the spot, too much grabby hands too soon, she hated that. She didn't like to hurry because it was different each time and small steps meant the guy was in for the long haul. And that kiss, how did that happen? The very thought of the slow languid strokes of his tongue in her mouth defeated the purpose of applying blush. Yes, they have kissed before, but it was always sweet and tender, filled with promises. The kiss last night was like a first of those promises being kept, and she kissed him first no less! So far things that started like that ended bad for her, usually because she wanted someone whom she couldn't have, but this was Mulder so she made an effort to believe things will be different this time. She brushed the mascara over her eyelashes, lips slightly parted so her eyelid wouldn't flutter, because her hand did shake with excitement. Excitement and fear, that tonight she might gain a lover of lose a friend. She was fairly certain the chance of the latter were slim, but she tried to plan for the worst as she hoped for the best, even if she had no idea where even begin to look for a plan B. A wool coat and stockings, who said Dana Scully didn't know how to go crazy! The moment she zipped up her high heeled boots she heard a knock.

"Hi," Mulder greeted her, taking in the low square neckline of her dress and the magic thing it did to reveal only hints of what might be the most perfect pair of breasts he's ever seen. "Hi," Scully turned to shut the door and gave him a precious second to gather his jaw off the floor. And he thought she looked gorgeous at the New Year's Eve party. How silly was he. "These are for you," he handed her the flowers and she brought them to her nose, breathing in the subtle fragrance. "They're beautiful, thank you," she said turning and heading for the kitchen to put them in water. Mulder stood corrected, her ass looked even better in that dress, the high heels making her hips sway gently as she walked away. That woman will be the end of him, if she looked this good dressed he didn't dare to imagine show she looked naked. He felt warm instantly and had to unbutton his coat for a moment. She looked back to him and noticed his tie and shirt, managing not to laugh because after all, he was wearing her gift. "Mulder, you look like a high school basketball coach trying to look fun chaperoning the prom." "Heeeyyyy..." he shifted uncomfortably because that kind of hurt his feelings, but only until she stepped around the table and came closer. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him sweetly and reached to pull the tie from around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. With the smile her kiss caused him, he once again looked like a picture of confidence framed in casual nonchalance she knew and loved, only more drop-dead handsome, if that was even possible. She folded the tie in half and draped it over the back of the couch. "You'll get it back." Mulder was going to make sure of that, because this was quickly becoming his favorite tie. "Come on," he took her coat, helped her put it on and offered his arm which she took, "the cab is waiting."

The restaurant was small, just a few tables, two waiters and, to her delight, a young man playing piano in the corner of the room, probably son of the owner. The kid had talent and imagination, Scully appreciated that. Somewhere between main course and desert Mulder moved from the chair to the plush seat beside her. He continued to conquer her personal space, his arm on the back of the seat, casually draped around her, as if unaware of the intimacy it projected. Scully herself only realized it, because of the warmth that he brought with him. It felt almost as natural as breathing, to touch him, to be touched, to keep him in. With other men it took months to get here, if it ever did. She felt very relaxed around him, as if all the small touches and kisses they shared before had no other purpose than say "I'm here." "Mulder, what made you open up a bar?" "Hmmm?" Mulder seemed fascinated by the cut of her earring. "I mean, you left the FBI, but you're still a psychologist, why not open a practice, live comfortably doing nothing but listening to congressmen complain about wives and mistresses?" He chuckled. "That's just it, I wasn't that good at listening to other people's problems and fears. A real therapist knows what to do with it, not me. I'd suck up all their angst and sooner or later I would come across some lost soul that would drag me down with him. I can't, I care too much sometimes for it to be healthy. And I was a profiler, I lived for the puzzle, not confessions of others." "But why a bar? Why not grocery store or a book store or heck, go crazy, a hair salon!" Mulder laughed. "Yeah, grocery store seems safest, but can you imagine?" He took up a mock french accent playing with a strand of hair that fell down her cheek. "Oh Miss Scoolly, so good to see you again so soon, what will we do today? It's too early for color, you look marvelous, how do you do it, with more customers like you I'd be out of business, how about a little trim, half an inch from the sides, it will transform your life, I guarantee!" She ducked her head and laughed, a loud belly laugh hat made his night, just like that. "I could see the ladies lining up for three blocks. We need a name for that, let me think," she giggled, "Mulder's Coiffeurs or better Fox's Curls and Tresses." "No, not that," he groaned rolling his eyes, "I hate my first name." "Why? It's so original, and graphic, no wait, I know, you could sell hats! Your store sign would have a pretty girl with a fox's tail falling down her shoulder from the brim of her hat." "Yeah, animal lovers would love that," he snorted. "Oh, right, haven't thought of that," she noticed the line between silly and honest approaching and backed down. "I can't sleep," Mulder's tone indeed turned honest. "It's as simple as that. Insomnia had me staying up all night since I was twelve," with a bit of sadness in his eyes he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and brushed the back of his hand over her sensitive spot, making a shiver run down her spine. She ignored it for now, this was more important. "Before I left the bureau, I spent a year going through old X-files. And most of that time, my day consisted of getting up, going to work, sitting alone in the basement and reading, then going home to an empty apartment, not sleep for hours, insomnia in full swing at that time, eventually crash for maybe two hours, nightmares waiting the moment I closed my eyes." Scully took care to listen and remember every word he said, so he wouldn't have to go through this story again. "Profiling did horrible things to me before that, and I was alone, week in week out. The most significant human interaction I would get, was an occasional night out with the Gunmen and "99 cents" from a dead tired clerk at the kiosk where I bought sunflower seeds every day." She felt bad for asking, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask." "No," Mulder took her hand, squeezing reassuringly, "it's okay, because that was the moment I decided that I needed a change. X-files were going nowhere, and by that time I read enough, that I could fill my own Library Of Congress section on paranormal and unexplained. Cases that landed on FBI's lap reached as far as the 2nd World War, and Roswell. Cold war must have been a real page turner, judging by the number of censored files, and no one was doing anything about it, and no one planed to." He was no longer sad, the fire was back in his eyes. "That was when I realized our government doesn't care about the people, only his own twisted agenda and I couldn't support that. I crossed the the F and the B, and focused on I in the FBI. You know I write for "The Lone Gunman", under a pseudonym naturally, but it's something I could never do if I worked for the bureau. I travel sometimes, talk to people, write down their stories and give them voice, so others would know, that they are not alone, there are people with similar experiences and the fact that I can do something for them, gave me the strength to keep going, to keep looking. For Sam, to know what happened the night she disappeared." Pure conviction in his voice took her breath away. "The truth is out there. And it won't stay hidden in their basements forever." "And the bar?" "It's a way to keep me sane," Mulder chuckled, "to keep that human connection alive and well. That year in the basement, it was bad, to be that disconnected made my mind fester. I realized I needed to be around people, and like you said, there's a bit of a therapist in every bartender," he smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to fill her glass. "I pour drinks, I listen. The difference is that I have a fancy diploma to back it up. 'The Believer' is always open for people with strange stories and memories to share, and besides," he smiled at her broadly, back to here and now from the depths of his past, "I'm not sure I would ever meet you, if I'd still carry a badge." Scully listened, truly amazed. Once again Mulder's story was not what she expected to hear, not on a first date anyway. She had no words to begin describing the feeling his journey evoked in her, so she cupped his cheek and kissed him. This man so remarkable she wouldn't believe he was real. He saw it, too much awe, too much pride. He didn't want it, he knew he never deserved it, so he kissed her back, resting one hand on the curve of her waist, parting her lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss for two heartbeats, barely decent, bold enough to kick down that pedestal he saw in her eyes. "Mulder," she had to squeeze in the warning between arousal and want in her tone. If they were at the bar, this thing might escalate pretty quickly. "What? Desert?" He kissed her again, quick, deep and hot, "I think you're right, what would you like." "You," she whispered pressing her lips, chastely this time, to the corner of his mouth. "You've got that," he teased, "but I feel like I need to redeem myself after dumping my past on you, so tell me." she leaned back, her hand back in his while he made due with kissing her knuckles, happy he managed to wake her desire. He wanted her to know and still want him, not worship or admire. "What would you like?" "Ice cream sundae," she said without skipping a beat, "and we share, it's a Valentine's Day date requirement." Two spoons, a ton of chocolate and Scully's giggles saved the moment.

They took a cab back to her place, the night was cold. Mulder got out to help her and she took his hand as her feet touched the pavement. It was a moment of silent agreement, her hand squeezed his, she took a step without letting go, and he knew to pay the driver and let her take him upstairs to her apartment.

Scully's heart pounded in her chest, as she searched for keys in her small purse, Mulder less than an inch behind her. She found it, let them in, and turned to find his warm soft lips. He took her face in his hands, warming her cold cheeks, as she unbuttoned his coat to slip her arms around him. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as his hands traveled down her shoulders to the buttons on her coat. He helped her slip out of it, tossing it to the back of the couch, then pulled on her scarf. Blue silk freed her perfume, and again he felt dizzy from it, compelled to bury his face in her neck, this time by way of kisses. His coat landed next to hers, mouths searching, missing targets, sloppy but increasingly more fun with each step that brought them farther inside the apartment. He stepped out of his shoes as she peeled of his jacket. Scully bumped into the back of the couch, walking backwards, and he knelled to unzip her boots and pull them off her small feet for her. She looked stunning, as she pulled one pin from her chignon and her hair fell down in soft waves down her shoulders. Without looking away from her eyes, Mulder ran his hands up the back of her calves and stood up, towering over her for the briefest moment, before he picked her off the floor, hands grabbing the backs of her thighs, stockings dear God, the word goddess flashing through his mind. Scully's legs went around his waist, arms around shoulders, she did not fight for fear she'd topple them over, and he carried her through to the bedroom, ignoring her protests, your leg, no need, I can walk, he was def to her concern over him or his health at the moment. He pleaded temporary insanity from her breasts pressed against his chest through silk and satin of their clothes. "Mulder," she breathed into his ear, holding on to him as he reached to push the door open, "condoms, bathroom, medicine cabinet." He didn't stop but walked in and put her down on her feet. He took her hand and without a word slipped it into his pants pocket, smiling as her palm closed around two foil packets and brushed against the erection that was already starting to feel uncomfortable. "Small steps, Scully," he reached around her and found the tab on the zipper of her dress, and started to pull it down slowly, "I wouldn't do this if I wasn't prepared." "I saw your blood work," she explained taking her hand out of his pocket and dropping the condoms on the bed, "and I'm on the pill but..." he shushed her with a soft kiss, hands caressing her bare skin on the way up to her shoulders. "I know, small steps." A kiss to the side of her neck and a brush of his fingers and the dress pooled around her feet with a whisper of satin. Black lace and silk stockings were all she got left and felt like he was definitely overdressed. "You need some help?" Scully reached to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. Soft light filed the room and the sight stunned Mulder into silence. He could do nothing but stare at her skin, body all soft curves and freckles and female perfection standing before him. She reached up and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pulling it from his pants, already bulging impressively. Scully pulled the belt from the loops of his pants and dropped it to the floor, taking a step around to switch places and push him on the bed behind him. "You run around too much, I told you that already." Hovering above him, keeping her tone playful, she slowly unbuttoned his pants to pull them down, mindful of his recent injury. His socks followed suit as she knelt down on the floor between his knees, looking up. He was looking at her, propped up on his elbows, his erection straining his briefs. "Scully, are you sure?" He asked quietly, not concerned, just making sure. "If I wasn't," she replied with confidence, standing up and resting her toes on his knee, "we wouldn't be here." Mulder got rid of his doubts and reached to peel the last of the silk and lace of her body.

Scully laid on the bed, his face inches from hers, watching every change in her expression as he ran two fingers between her thighs, learning what made her tick, following her hand. They fumbled at first and he decided to just let her take the lead. Now she was straining against him, arching her back. He kissed her from time to time, wet sloppy kisses, all soft brushes of languid tongues. He kissed her breasts and nibbled on her nipples, and shoulder and neck, but now he was watching her knead the soft flesh and pinch the hard tip of it and circling around it with her thumbnail. Each moan was like a reward for a well aimed stroke of his hand. He dipped two fingers inside her, her clit swelled as he brushed past it from time to time. He returned there but not too often, she was very responsive to what he did for her. Sometimes her finger joined his, showing him what to do and how, but mostly she just let him explore, take his time. "Like that," she threw her head back and he felt her walls soften under his touch, become pliant, ready for him to join in on the fun. Mulder knew his leg was not yet 100 percent healed, so he brought her as close to the edge as possible without wasting the strength he knew, he would need. She thought he was teasing when his hand moved away, but as his weight shifted and the tip of his cock started to push inside her, she welcomed him into her arms. The sensation was pure and undiluted bliss. "You feel so good," she whispered pulling his lips to hers, her tongue in his mouth as hot as her centre. "I've wanted you since you tossed back that first shot of whiskey at the bar with me," he confessed pulling her knee up and around his hip, shifting so that most of his weight rested on his good side, and started to pump into her, slowly, like he did earlier with his fingers, "you trusted me, I see that now." "I never did that," she panted as he started picking up pace, "let a guy talk me into doing something." She dropped a kiss on his parted lips, "but with you it felt different." her one hand pushed between them and found her clit, the other scratched down his back all the way to his ass, she relished the way his muscles flexed with each thrust. "Like this." Mulder wasn't sure if she was speaking of that night or urging him on, "like what?" "Amazing," she breathed, and he could do nothing else but agree. He felt himself quicken, as she swelled around him. Their lips met and she was whimpering softly with his each thrust, now urgent and hard. "Keep going, like that," her finger moved fast in tight circles, "Mulder, oh God, I'm going to..." She didn't need to finish because just then her body spasmed under and around him. Scully held on, trying to pull him inside her, her free arm now tight around his shoulders, her hand at the nape of his neck, her lips at his ear. "Let go, come for me," and she ran her tongue around his ear, bit his earlobe and he couldn't fight it anymore, he came and fell and she caught him.

It was her turn to watch him, limbs intertwined, bodies sated, sheets pulled warm around them. "What did you do to me?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, with tenderness she hasn't felt in years. "What do you mean?" "I feel like you just moved in here," he said taking her hand and placing it over his heart, "and started redecorating." "Do I get the attic as well?" Scully chanced a joke, kissing his temple and running fingers through his hair, silky smooth and soft, now that she knew he liked that. "If you don't mind the toys there," he teased back. Self deprecating was his idea of honest when speaking about himself. "Mulder, you are a good man," she told him, kissing his lower lip gently, she knew it and felt it, and that made it as good as true for her. "I'm Spooky Mulder howling at the moon," he countered, a faint sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, you care about people, that's noble, you're like a white knight that way" she explained, feeling his midnight stubble with the back of her fingers. "Wait," he looked alarmed for a moment, "not like Don Quixote or something, right?" "What, you want me to stroke your ego some more?" She reached under the covers and found his shaft, running her palm up and down its' length, and circling the head with her thumb. His eyes rolled back as he started to get hard again, she was starting to love how he could not resist her. "That's not where it's at, but it has a direct line." "Shut up Mulder," she straddled his hips and kissed him for real this time.

The next morning Mulder woke up in Scully's bed. In pain. He untangled himself from her small warm body, asleep with her back against his chest, and knowing it was impossible not to wake her, he turned onto his back and groaned. His thigh was killing him. "Mulder?" Her sleepy voice sounded concerned as she turned to face him, "what's wrong?" "My leg," was all he managed to say, the pain was spreading to his hip and lower back. She uncovered his side and saw no bruising or alarming swelling around the freshly healed wound. "You pushed yourself last night," she covered him and started to get up, "I told you not to carry me." "Adrenaline rush Doc, couldn't help it," he joked, but really felt terrible, "where are you going?" "I'll be right back," she kissed his forehead and left him to his suffering. Scully went to the kitchen, tying the robe around her waist and noting in passing the path of clothes they left behind last night. They needed coffee. She opened the fridge, scanning it's contents and finding it satisfactory, took out the coffee and started a fresh pot. "Take this." She came back handing Mulder one pill and a glass of water, and noticing his hesitation clarified, "it's Tylenol 3," then pulled the covers back off his leg and covered it with a bag of frozen peas. "Bad news, you're not going anywhere today." Mulder looked at her and barked out a strained laugh. "And how is that bad news?" His reaction shook her out of her doctor persona and she realized what she just said. "Right," she laughed and leaned over to kiss his smiling lips, "happy Valentine's Day Mulder."

[nikkil-rp]

OFF Day 4 - Quotes

(A/N): For @originalficfest . This has been a heck of a scavenger hunt, particularly for the NO LOYAL KNIGHT ones. I only have the first one or two chapters written for each of these stories (all of which can be read here), so I had to go digging through old drafts for some of these quotes. Pardon the quality on the NLK v2 quotes--Those were all written in 2013, with all the melodrama of a high school senior. I’ve included as many introductory quotes as I can, either from the character’s first appearance or their first POV scene, as well as a couple of quotes that really sum up the heart of the character or their story as a whole. You can read more about all these projects on my WIP page and my Characters and Worlds masterpost. Enjoy!

Opening Character Lines:

Koltor Bryant (MH)

Koltor cried out. He couldn’t move. They had him tied down, and intense pain pulsed through the right side of his body. He pulled against the restraints, but they refused to give.

He jerked his right arm and heard something rip. The unexpected release of tension set him off balance, and a loud thunk met his fall to the floor. The impact startled him the rest of the way awake. His breath came in short gasps, and every time the air rushed past the back of his throat, he felt a sharp prickle accompanied by the bitter taste of copper. He’d been shouting in his sleep again.

DiPersia Iaonsen (MH)

Di swung her legs over the edge of the catwalk and slid under the guard rails. She crouched low as her feet hit one of the long cylindrical pipelines that fed pressurized steam from one end of the engine to the next. Snapping one of her carabiners onto the safety wires almost as an afterthought, Di scurried over to one of the feedback panels set into the outer shell of the boiler.

Jericho (J)

This must be what the inside of an ice grinder feels like, Jericho thought dully. The dust-turned-ice storm had blown in quickly, and the temperature on the surface was well below freezing. Shards of ice howled around him in miniature tornadoes that felt like they were made of dull knives, and the oxygen converter on his face felt like it was about to short out at any second.

Ania Kyatei (NLK v3)

A leaf blew across the book on Ania’s lap, sticking in the crease between the pages. She brushed it away, and read the last line again. To understand yourself is to understand your opponent, and to understand is to respect. This is the meaning of victory.

Magatha Briggs (CofM)

Back pressed against the exterior wall of the tenement sphere, Magatha squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe. She gripped the catwalk railing with one hand, her fist so tight that the bones of her hand threatened to come apart at the joints. The blue morning light filtering through the leaves of the distant Mother Tree at the center of the spheres of the House was at odds with the black pit inside her chest. She was dizzy, and everything was out of focus. She had to hurry. The people inside the sphere needed her.

Kaelan West (CofM)

The speaker—a man about her age—was dichromatic, more so than any other person she could remember ever having seen. The dual skin tones, a deep brown and a paler beige, swirled around each other, like two dyes dropped into a beaker of water, frozen in that fraction of a moment before the solution diffused to a single color. 

Randen Derris (NLK v2)

Randen sat on the mattress with his shirt in his hands, and looked down at the scratches that covered his tan arms. Most of them were fairly shallow, but more than one was still a deep crimson, with white, enflamed skin puckering about the edges.  He couldn't really feel the pain – he'd pushed it to the back of his mind, where it was nothing more than a dull buzz – but just looking at the cuts brought back the wrenching fear that had filled his gut the night before. 

Elyys Faye (NLK v2)

His mother had always told him that he was useless, and he was incapable of doing anything, but he couldn't remember if he'd ever done anything besides just being a boy to prove her right. There had been a man among those three blood soldier. He hadn't seemed weaker than the others. In fact, he seemed like he was their equal.  

His mother had sent him here to die. He never had to see her again. He didn't have to live up to anything she thought ever again.  

"I decide who I am," he whispered. "I decide." 

Skaught Farstrend (NLK v2)

He fell to his knees as a scream forced its way out of his throat. His arm was on fire. It felt like the bone had shattered and was trying to force its way out through his old scar. The back of his neck was filled with shooting sparks of pain until his mind had nearly shut completely down. He'd never felt this much pain before. His heart started skipping beats. It couldn't keep up with the waves of pain that were shooting out of his arm.  

Mya Tohgis (NLK v2)

She yanked her knife out of one of the figures, twisting it on the way out the same way she did when slaughtering an animal back at home. She had a sick taste in her mouth, and it wasn't from the pale dust that covered her blade and hands where there should have been slick red blood. Strength? That girl obviously knew nothing of strength. There was no strength in words, only actions. There was power in knowing she could do anything to anyone and no one could stop her. That was why she was here – to have that power.

Quintessential Character Quotes:

Ania Kyatei (NLK v2)

"Oh, come now, Master – I thought tricks were what you were looking for," she shouted to the darkness. "Who can jump the highest, last the longest, fight the hardest? Who can be the best blood soldier? That's what you want me to be, isn't? You want me to be just like you!" With a vicious stab, she got rid of another black cloak, this time before it had even raised a weapon. "But that's the problem – you don't even know what you are! You think you're blood soldiers. You think you're apathetic, and apart from everything. You think nothing concerns you anymore. You think that you're above everything, and that even if you wanted to, there's nothing you could do to help anyone but yourselves!" She yanked her spear out of the gut of another black cloak. Her voice grew louder and louder with each word until it sounded like it was coming from the mouth of a giant. "That's what everyone else believes about you, and now you believe it, too. You think that just because someone expects it of you, that's what you have to be. And now you think you can do it to me. You think that you can decide who and what I am just because of a name, or what you think is most important. Well, let me tell you – I won't let you! I still believe in what Knights are, even if you don't. I believe in helping people, even if they are scared of what I am. You can't take that away from me, because I won't let you. You can't define who I am – I do that. You think I'm weak. You think I'm naive. But I still believe in myself, and that's all the strength I need!" 

Koltor Bryant (MH)

He hadn’t slept in five months. Sure, he’d close his eyes, and sometimes he’d slide in and out of consciousness, but the exhaustion was still there every time he crawled out of bed. Instead of resetting every night, the days strung together like a single never-ending nightmare. There was a dry ache in his left eye socket, and a dull pressure just behind his brow ridge, but those had been there long before the coma. Sleep had always been a rare commodity on deployment, but this was worse. He was used to “tired”, not this bone-melting exhaustion. He had no reason to be awake any more. Everything was so silent, like he’d been buried alive. His cabin was just a proactive coffin.

Sometimes, just before he woke up, he’d hear breathing near him, and he’d feel the heat of twenty bodies around him. He’d hear the snap as wind caught the edges of the tent. He’d feel the ground rumble beneath him, feel the weight of his rifle on the cot with him. But then the air conditioning unit would switch on, and he’d realize the rumbling he felt was the engines of the cityship Arboretum, and he was back in his cabin, alone, the same way he had been every day for the last five months.

Kaelan West (CofM)

“I thought these black and white birds were the most beautiful things in the sky. When they fly, they’re focused, like nothing in the world can stop them. When the sun catches their feathers, they shine like a stained glass window. They’re more than just black and white, but the starkness of their feathers is only emphasized by the iridescence.” The bird adjusted its wings, and Magatha saw it—a flash of the deepest greens and blues. “They are beautiful because they are different, but even that doesn’t matter. They are simply themselves.”

The magpie hopped up onto Kaelan’s hand, and he lifted the bird to his eye level. “I’ve noticed that the people of the House have a tendency to think in binaries, with no thought to the true nature of things. They see only the black and white, not the color that makes those things beautiful. Black, white. Success, failure. It isn’t all or nothing. Success isn’t dependent on you running yourself into the ground, trying to save the world all by yourself. Maybe everyone else sees you as the only one who can do this, but that isn’t the way the world works. There is nuance there, just like the color of a magpie’s wings.”

Jericho (J)

“If I say yes, will you stop disturbing the peace?”

“And let you die of boredom?” Jericho laughed as Joshua rolled his eyes, but then his voice turned quiet. “I’ve told you before, Joshua. I don’t disturb the peace. No one in their right mind can disturb true peace.”

“Oh? Then what do you do?”

“I make people notice things.” Jericho met the young man’s eyes. “But you already notice most of the important things. If you were in charge, something tells me that those shackles up top wouldn’t see use for a very long time.”