#aether: the infinite library

[dappertron]

Arroba

Aether's not-Koopa is this little dink, a rodent that also happens to make an live inside something like a snail shell. It only very existed as a sprite this small, but it was fun to uprez it a but.

They do grow to enormous sizes as well so this could be an actual size chart, with the top of the little Arroba's shell reaching up to Eszett's eyes for more comparison.

[markrosewater]

If I bounce my library (enchanted withm animate library) to the top ofg my library while yet another aether vortex is out (so it does not technically leave the battlefield) does my library have infinite cards in it now?

You can’t bounce your library to the top of your library. It’s already there essentially.

[xasha777]

In a sprawling, neon-bathed city where the air was thick with the hum of hovercars and digital billboards, Ava found herself walking the line between reality and the digital facade that masked the true face of society. Her hazel eyes, sharp and observing, contrasted starkly against the synthetic glow of her surroundings. Every day, Ava navigated the urban labyrinth, a remnant of old-world charm in her freckled face and earnest gaze, untouched by the cybernetic enhancements that had become commonplace.

Ava, a historian by passion, had stumbled upon an ancient artifact during one of her archive dives—an old, tattered document bearing the signature of Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal under Queen Elizabeth I. The document spoke of an enigmatic technology lost to time, described vaguely as "the Aether Codex," capable of manipulating the very fabric of reality.

Driven by curiosity and the thrill of uncovering lost history, Ava set out to decipher the Codex. Her quest caught the attention of the Nexus Corporation, a powerful entity with its circuits interwoven into every facet of city life. The corporation, led by the enigmatic CEO Mira Talos, had its own vested interest in any technology that could alter reality.

One damp evening, as the city lights flickered and danced in puddles on the concrete, Ava found herself being followed. She ducked into a dimly lit cafe, its walls adorned with relics from a bygone era, creating a stark contrast to the gleaming modernity outside. Sitting across from her, blending in yet distinctly apart, was a man in a trench coat, his features obscured by shadows.

"I believe you are in possession of information regarding the Aether Codex," he spoke, his voice low and resonant. His eyes, when they met hers, revealed a depth that was both alarming and mesmerizing.

Ava tensed, her hand inching towards the old document hidden inside her jacket. "And who might you be?" she asked, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

"Call me Nicholas," he replied, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Nicholas Bacon, at your service. Or rather, a direct descendant, tasked with protecting the secrets of the Codex."

Ava's breath caught in her throat. A descendant of the historical figure she had been researching? It seemed implausible, yet the earnestness in his gaze told her this was no mere coincidence.

Nicholas explained that the Aether Codex was more than just a relic; it was a gateway to infinite possibilities, a tool that could reshape the fabric of the universe. But in the wrong hands, it could also be catastrophic.

As they spoke, the weight of their shared destiny began to bind them. Together, they embarked on a perilous journey through shadowy alleys and cybernetic fortresses, dodging both drones and data phantoms, seeking the fragments of the Codex scattered across time and space.

With each piece they uncovered, the bond between them grew, a blend of trust and mutual respect. But Nexus Corporation was always one step behind, their agents relentless.

In the climax of their quest, atop the ancient ruins of an old library, the final piece of the Codex revealed itself. With the corporation's forces closing in, Ava and Nicholas activated the Codex. Reality rippled around them, history blending with the future, as they opened a portal to a new dimension—one untouched by corporate greed or digital decay.

As they stepped through the portal, leaving behind the neon city for a world of unspoiled beauty and potential, Ava realized that their journey was just beginning. Together, with the Aether Codex, they would forge a new reality, a testament to the power of history and the unyielding human spirit.

[tamlenx]

angharradhx​:

-

“You can’t blame a Goddess for trying,” it was sad, but she had hoped that he might choose to remain - protect this Laurelin alongside her. He was very handsome, brave, and strong, any mother would have been proud of him. The dawnstone had also chosen him, that was not insignificant. The look on Tamlen’s face though was just heartbreaking, Sune looked away as the disappointment crossed his features and focused instead on the steps ahead of them. Their librarian had produced the Pilgrim’s works, Arvandor held a library with every volume and word ever written. Sorted from nonsense to sensical, she was quite fond of some of the works that were published on a place that mortals referred to as: archive of our own.

“It’s in the mortal realm,” Sune said, “I can feel it, there’s a lot of love surrounding it. Plus, Oztalun didn’t let it go lightly.” Parents sacrificed a great deal for their children’s future. Without Telperion though the Laurelin of Tamlen’s realm would be without balance, the silver tree that offset the golden hue of that which they climbed now.  As they rose they found the canopy above, a plateau among the branches that stretched into the aether that surrounded them. A pool had collected within, distilled from the dew that gathered across Laurelin’s thin atmosphere. “The dawnstone might have chosen you, but it’s your life kid.” Sune explained candidly, he was the first to be chosen in a very long time. Long ago, she had been the last. “you can ignore it, pretend like it never happened and nothing will change. You’ll go home, still the Worldly, still a Summer eladrin, and you’ll have some nice stories to tell.” That was the simpler route, the cleanest and arguably the easiest, “But if you drink then you’ll be tied to the Laurelin, you won’t be a summer eladrin anymore. You won’t even be an eladrin anymore. As long as you live in the same realm as any Laurelin it will never die, and vice versa.” 

          “And I appreciate your every attempt to convince me.” It was soft and candid, summer emanated from him as the tender sneak of sun rays above the horizon, and of the golden hue that warmed silver spires back when the faerie court was whole and unharmed. Tamlen had almost fallen to the bitterness and hatred felt so heavily towards the drow, and the mortal realm in which he was forced to seek refuge; it all felt so trivial now sitting alongside Sune. His breath hitched subtly at the mention of the mortal realm, he could read between such lines and found great promise to know that though Oztalun had fought tiredly, that the essence of the tree still lived on.

No concept proved more captivating than sitting within the ethereal confines of Arvandor, upholding the sacred duty to protect the world trees alongside Sune and the others. His whole life was dedicated to the ideal of sacrifice, the bond between warder and wardee. It was a given that a wardee was not to outlive their warder and Tamlen took such oath religiously. Tamlen contemplated for a moment, his mind drifted first to Laer, his Chancellor he was devoted to protect. It soon, in a swift parallel, shifted to Raffaele for though he’d not promised the witch his ample return, the summer eladrin had made a silent promise to himself to see the witch again one day. “If I were to drink, I’d be able to make it to the mortal realm and protect that which lives on still?” Tamlen was careful, he could already figure the answer but had grown weary at the thought. If the court was to be reconquered and established would that mean he could not enter any longer? Would he be stuck within his duty to the world trees, cast within the mortal realm for eternities? His tether to Laer made this infinitely more impossible as options were weighed and none seemed heavenly any longer. This realm was beautiful, the scintillating gold of the tree bouncing off that of the silver Telperion, but in such crucial moment it felt, suddenly, too good to be true.

[glitchstoxicwaste]

MMMM Brahms and Billy request (if you aren’t too busy!)

What are some of your favorite HCs you have for Brahms and Billy? And then what are some ones you’ve seen floating around in the fandom aether that you really like?

Brooooooooo

I got asked NSFW for all slasher, this, AND fluff headcanons?! 🥰

Slashers | Brahms | Lenz

Headcanons!

TW: Sexual themes but not smutty, rape and abuse in Billy’s.

Continue under the cut!

Brahms Heelshire!

I feel that, after so many Nanny’s got uncomfortable with his Childlike behavior and voice, he kinda grew up? Like, when you’re around he never acts like a child.

You know he’s holding back from it, so you like, let him let it out, and so after trusting you and releasing the inner child he never had, he grows out of it and matures later on.

I feel he loves when you play with his hair, it feels good.

He may have grown up but he loves your praising, it makes him happy.

He will help do chores around the house in exchange for praise.

Will start to take his mask off around you more often.

Doesn’t go into the walls unless necessary, like, checking the house for intruders whether that be animal or human, and to get to a room faster if you need him.

Let’s you leave the house more, he trusts you and doesn’t want you to feel trapped in the house.

Man is a husky, he sheds his hair and it’s all over the place constantly.

Cuddle bug from hell.

Isn’t as horny as most people make him out to be, he’s just heavily touch starved.

The library is filled with books, and so he reads them because he likes books.

Keeps track of the money he has, he may be rich but it isn’t an infinite.

He won’t leave the house unless it’s to go on a picnic with you out in the woods.

He has anger issues but after an incident that hurt your relationship with him, he tries to calm down before blowing up.

Below are headcanons I read and I love!

He only bathes when you’re in the tub or shower with him! He prefers you cleaning him because it’s an excuse to have your hands all over him and vice-versa.

His dad gave him the romance and porn mags, c’mon, Mr. Heelshire was a young boy once too, he knows what it’s like.

Slightly childish and will place things you need into higher shelves if you’re shorter than him.

After a while he gets rid of the Chore List completely because he wants all your time and realizes that what was on the list was mostly common sense and regular responsibilities.

Billy Lenz!

Calls specifically when you’re around the phone or the only one home.

Shyly introduced himself to you, by asking over the phone bush you would like to see him, if the answer is yes then he will say “don’t scream”, hangs up, then leaves the attic to meet you at the phone.

You taught him to not speak in third person so much, so he doesn’t as often, but his mental state causes him to do it sometimes.

His hands and feet are FREEZING, and he loves to shove his hands up your shirt all the time.

During the night he will rub his cold ass feet on the backs of your thighs to jolt you out of sleep.

Isn’t the biggest fan of Christmas considering his past.

Went into a state of delirium (like he did when your house was the sorority house that caused him to kill everyone) and he does something that caused a little tear in your relationship.

You helped him calm down a little, and so now he’s all smiles and suggestively flirtatious.

He too loves praise, he never got praises as a child and so he nearly cried when you called him a “Good Boy”.

The only person who ever said “I love you” to him was his father, so when you say it for the first time he does cry.

Loves cuddles.

He’s not a sex craving creep like most people believe.

Has an oral fixation, hence why he drools a lot.

Adores cats and stole Clause as his cat.

Below are headcanons i read and love!

Makes killer hot coco!

Has a rare liver disease called jaundice causing his skin to be yellow.

His mother and father hated one another, but his father loved him, his mother hated him due to his appearance reminding her of her husband.

His mother and her boyfriend killed his father.

His mother raped him, to which she got pregnant with his sister/daughter Agnes.

He sexually abused Agnes because that’s what his mother did to him, he also was abused regularly.

His mother locked him into the attic on Christmas.

He escaped a mental ward and ran to the sorority house, which was his childhood home, stayed in the attic because he was locked in there, after he killed everyone except Jess the Sorority was turned into YOUR home.

He hates Christmas because that’s when his mother locked him away.

[s4turns-rings]

the infinite library

like the the afterlife (🔗), the infinite library is another example of a temporal artifact (🔗). the infinite library was a large library present in cycle 0, but, was unfortunately turned to ruins during the destruction of the cycle. the ruins were found up in the aether by the newly split spirits, and they collectively decide to rebuild the once massive library, one of the biggest centers of information present, into what would be their records

the infinite library is used to document everything that happens within the cycles, and is a living encyclopedia of all things to happen. from records of historical events to the fine blueprints of various species and their evolution, it contains anything possibly imaginable. spirits often come here to read up on the current happenings of a cycle, to reminisce about past once, and to inspire themselves for an upcoming cycle.

infinite library pt.2

quick notes below v

ievafis, the spirit of creativity and the head of the third cycle (i’ll post third cycle content eventually but it’s the cycle i’ve worked most on and am very proud of) took a lot of notes from the infinite library’s records, and scrapped together what little managed to be documented from cycle 0 as points of inspiration for many of the species and other features of their cycle. (the thing with this is, a lot of the inspiration came from half-truths and straight up myths of the people, which is what made ievafis’s cycle have a fantastical nature).

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #8 Adroit

Charlette had not been down in the tunnels beneath the library in a long time. She had almost forgotten how cold the long, stone-tiled hallways of the Archives could be. Despite it being late into the summer season, she already felt the desire to pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It was strange to be down here and out of uniform, like she was sneaking into a place forbidden to her. But by now she knew these hallways almost as well as she did the roads and alleys of Willow’s Heart itself. Besides she had permission, how else was she going to deliver the reports Harriette had ordered her to cover? The stack of papers sat neatly in a leather folder held under one arm, the smooth surface feeling a little at odds with the rough-hewn walls and floors of stone that surrounded her. The thick heels of her sandals clacked against them with each step, announcing someone’s approach to anyone sitting yalms away, likely studying or researching the things they had found on their missions. Door after door passed her by, each one containing untold aetherical wonders. There is where the lines were drawn for her. She could enter Harriette, Emille and Aemerics offices when given an appointment, and nowhere else. It was a little ridiculous, since she had already been inside most of the rooms, hells she had helped fill some of them too. But, then again, she was supposed to be marked as ‘potentially untrustworthy’. So it stood to reason.

Harriette’s office stood at the furthest end of the first hallway you stepped into when entering the underground level. A large, dark oak door that had a bouquet of flowers carved into it, and the words ‘Head Librarian’ cut just above them. She always wondered if Harriette had that door designed herself, or if it was always like this. It was oddly fitting, considering how much she loved the Botanical aberrations they brought back or reported on. But that was a question for another sun, Charlette rapped her knuckles against the thick wood, and a muffled voice answered.

“Come in! It’s open! Ah, Charlette!” Harriette stood up from the piece of writing she had been scribbling through to walk around her wide, messy desk and right up to Charlette. Of the three current leaders of the Archive and its Order, Harriette was the one least concerned with decorum and proprietary as dictated by hierarchy. The portly woman placed her hands on Charlette’s upper arms, gave them a welcoming squeeze, then pulled her into a hug. “Ah! It’s so good to have you down here again! Goodness me, I could tell it was you minutes before you arrived. No one has quite such a wide gait that lands with such consistent volume. No thumps and thuds with you, just tips and taps. Come along, sit down, I’ve just made some lemon tea, help yourself to a biscuit if you like as well.” Harriette hurried Charlette over to a chair, all but pushing her down into it. A steaming cup of citrus-smelling tea was sat in front of her before she could refuse, and a tin of biscuits was opened and held out. Charlette was not going to say no to one of Mrs. Nilsen’s shortbread. “Thank you Head Librarian. It’s nice to be back, in a way. I quite enjoy the coolness of the Archives, compared to how sweltering it can be up there.” Harriette was already back behind her desk, only a short distance between the two of them. Whatever she had been working on was hastily stacked and set aside on a precarious looking pile of paperwork. But she paid Charlette full attention as she went, ever the multi-tasker despite how scattered she always looked. Red cheeked with salt-and-pepper flecked hair that was curled, big, and messy. The shock of green though in her eyes let anyone know the infinitely curious woman was focused on them. “I know! I feel like a burrowing badger sometimes, all I want to do is stay down here and remain cool and quiet within my den. But then I do miss the rain when it comes, and I love that smell.” Charlette nodded along, the two seeing eye-to-eye on a fair few things really. Though Charlette would never have been caught dead with an office as chaotic as Harriette’s. If she had ever had one herself. “But it can’t all be bad up there, hmm? You’ve been under Bobocufu’s care, you must be learning a wonderful amount of new and interesting things! And you get far more time inside her Greenhouse too. I wish I had more time for it, she’s planted such interesting and beautiful specimens there. I’ve had the blooming of the corpse flowers on my calendar for almost three twelvemoons now! Excited to find out if they really do smell like carrion? I’ve no reason to doubt Bobocufu, but smelling it yourself is the best and only way to confirm something so fantastically strange.” Harriette took a quick sip of her tea, fingers tip-tapping on her cup. “Yes, the corpse flowers are due to bloom this twelvemoon aren’t they? Should be just as summer is ending, so any sun now. Not sure if I’m excited for the stench, but I am curious to experience it. They are some of the largest blooms we have in the Greenhouse. But, if I’m honest, I think I prefer the saplings most. They feel like an investment, especially when we go out and plant those that are ready for the orchid.” Harriette was watching Charlette, like she was the student having a meeting with her inspiring teacher. The woman really did need to make more time for herself. “We’re going to do another planting next moon. You should come along, I think you would enjoy it.” A chubby hand pressed thick, short fingers against Harriette’s cheek. “Oh, you are sweet Charlette. Tell you what, I’ll mark it on the calendar and do my best. It sounds like a good way to spend a sun, and maybe we can name a few of them too? Perhaps a nice, straight, grumpy looking one we can call Emille the Second?” She tittered into her hand, pulled out a long quill made from a gauche, colourful feather, and scribbled down a note that she stuck to the calendar hanging on the wall behind her. “Something to look forward to! But, onto why you’re actually here. Can’t always just be tea and fun ideas, hmm? How did the reports go?” Charlette pulled the folder out from under her arm, opening it out on the table and spreading the separate papers she had completed for Harriette. Each section was stacked in neat piles, titles and stamps making it clear which was which. Pride welled in Charlette, how can anyone accuse her of something bad, when being a stickler for the rules created such perfect little pieces of parchment? Harriette pulled her glasses up by the string that hung them around her neck, sliding them down her small, pointed nose. It magnified her eyes by triple, her pupils going from black-beetles to button sized. “Mhm! I missed your sense of order and neatness Charlette dear. Not even Aemeric is this careful with his formats, and as you can see I’ve no time to care at all! Hah!” she waved a hand at her office, almost knocking over one of the stacks of papers. It made a little well of anxiety start to stir in Charlette’s belly. “Thank you. But there’s no need to feel bad about your office. I’ve heard it said chaos is sometimes the kiss of the adroit, wherever they decide to be intelligent.” Another titter, the sound of it reminded Charlette of gossiping girls, it made her feel like one for just a moment. “That’s very nice of you to say. But I don’t feel bad at all! Why should I? It’s my office, and I know what is where. I have a system, you see. It’s called ‘remembering where I last put it’.” That titter became a cackle! Charlette braved a smile of her own “Keep laughing like that, Head Librarian, and we might suspect we’ve a Shroud witch in our midst.” Harriette shook her head, and waved a hand with a limp wrist at Charlette. “Please, don’t let Emille hear you say that. He would never let me hear the end of it. ‘I told you! You’re creating a less than professional image for the blah, blah, blah.’ I would have to convince him the town was under attack to get him to focus on something else.” And with a shake of her head, she picked up the first of Charlette’s reports, gave it a flick so they stood straight in her grip, and started to read. Assignment #4762: The Retrieval Section 1: The Ul’dah Situation As Reported by Order Guardian(Currently Suspended) Charlette Bellamy This was going to be a long, long evening. So Charlette poured herself another cup, took another piece of shortbread, and settled in. She was ready to make her case as soon as Harriet spoke “So, tell me about this Q’talhdi woman.”

[amortentiaboys]

last line challenge

Rules: Share your favorite closing lines from 10 of your stories (if you have less than 10 then list them all!). Feel free to skip any that might be too spoilery. Notice any patterns? Pick your #1 and tell us why you love it. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

i’m pretty late to the party lol so thank you @elvenwinters, @skeptiquewrites, @ohdrarry, @tackytigerfic and @fw00shy for the tags!! i’m super excited to see the patterns (if there are any at all) and if they match up with my first lines post.

1. so hot you’re hurting my feelings: (G, 522) He spent the rest of lunch silently seething and scribbling a second wing for the snitch, a soft snigger and rustle of robes rippling out across the library from the bay window every now and again. Maybe he was finally going mad.

2. harry in winter (T, 800)  Harry later told a rather skeptical Ron that Christmas with the Malfoy’s had been perfectly wonderful, thank you very much.

3. sanctuary (G, 87)  The ink on my forearm disappears in the space between us, my heart light despite the storm outside.

4. what stranger miracles (G, 137)  The winter sundown slid through the window, threading snitch-golden rays through Draco’s hair.

5. troubled water (T, 100) 

You’re lightning, torn aether You’re pure rage, through and through.

I know the storm you weather: I’m drowning in it, too.

6. i’ve learned to lose you (can’t afford to) (G, 273)  Heartbreak tears through you from the inside-out.

7. the trappings of absolution (T, 130)  

With a cry we collapse together, a bloom unsurpassed. Our magic sings in tandem, at home - absolution at last.

8. jubilee (G, 393) The train sparks back into life.

9. gallivanting and other such shenanigans (G, 815) Since you fell in love with him, you cockwomble.

10. warmth (G, 210)  Harry would take this life - the bickering matches that sparked between them over their morning tea, the heated arguments over the things that really matter, the afterglow of being with Draco after a hard day’s work - over the cool peace of King’s Cross any day.

huh, this is much less of a mixed bag than my openings! on the whole they look a lot longer, less dialogue-heavy and are more in the character’s POV. i think my favourites are 4, 5, and 10: 4 because of how it ties everything together and 5 because i was pretty pleased with the structure and draco’s introspection that connects him to harry. i may be biased when it comes to 10 because it’s a) very dear to me and b) written the day after something pretty terrible happened, but the idea of a chaotic, attrition-filled, messy life being infinitely better than a King’s Cross platform is such an important one to me. Because that life is yours, and it’s beautiful, and i like the idea of harry struggling to drag himself back from the platform but he does it anyway.

i think a lot of people have already done this so forgive me if i re-tag you! @floydig, @aneiria-writes, @hullaballoonsie, @lucienneart, @dynazty, @wheezykat, @dracothecupcake, @drarrystan22, @sunflower-swan, @orange-peony

[flamboyant-king]

Hello, have the scripts for comics I wanted to make when I first started using Lewn, got L!Azura, Taku got brave bow+, and Joji ‘retired.’ But, you know, my hands can only draw so much.

So this is context for comics and relations at the moment, in case yall are lost since I didn’t DRAW THESE.

--Jeorge meets Lewyn--

(Game context: During a grand conquest, my units were dying left and right because of poor placement. Lewyn was trapped behind a wall so he would only defeat the units that spawned right in front of it. Jeorge got closest to the fortress, but he couldn’t kill the Corrin standing there in one hit. So I used his turn to break down the wall and Lewyn hath been released.)

Jeorge: [running towards the fort] Where the Hel is everyone.

[aims at Corrin]

Jeorge: Damn. [Stops in front of a wall] Her defense is too high.

[melody playing from behind the wall]

Jeorge: ...Lewyn?

Lewyn: How are you, Jeorge?

Jeorge: Have you been hiding there this whole time?

Lewyn: I can’t believe you think that lowly of me.

Lewyn: The area you’re standing in is empty because of me.

Jeorge: [patting the wall] Well, I need more than one area cleared by you.

[one brick pushed out and the wall crumbles]

Lewyn: Now, why did you go and do that...

Jeorge: [pointing behind to Corrin] Get rid of her, please. 

Lewyn: Only because you asked so nicely~

[meanwhile]

--New Bow--

(Game context: I gave Taku brave bow because... Idk seemed like a good idea. he’s like not fast at all but I was giving him a lot of bows)

Gordin: KOUHAI! TAKUMI KOUHAI!

Takumi: I told you not to call me that.

Gordin: Then what do I call you?

Takumi: MY NAME.

Gordin: Okay! I have gift for you, from senpai to Takumi!

Takumi: Brave bow?

Gordin: You said that you’re fighting for two. That means twice as many arrows!

Takumi: Oh...thanks. I’ve never really used this before.

Gordin: [GASP] THAT MEANS I HAVE TO TEACH YOU!

Takumi: No, you do--

Gordin: I AM YOUR SENSEI, YOU ARE MY STUDENT! 

Takumi: He’s not listening...

--New Training--

Gordin: [pacing about] This is all so sudden. From senpai to sensei in a blink of an eye. 

[turns around]

Gordin: Since you know all the things Mr. Jeorge has taught me, that means I have to teach you my own methods!

Takumi: Yippee?

Gordin: [rubbing chin] The leaf thing is outdated. That means I must make a new curriculum.

Gordin: Shoot through here. [okay hand]

Takumi: What?

Gordin: It’s just like a target except with the risk of injury.

Takumi: I��m not doing that.

Gordin: Do you have confidence in your aim!

Takumi: I do but the risks are to--

Gordin: DO IT!

[shoots arrow right into gordin’s palm]

Gordin: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Takumi: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[Gordin and Takumi screaming in the background]

Niles: [behind a tree] Ah, so Jeorge was actually a babysitter...

--The Real Doubler--

Lucius: What are you two doing? You’re lucky Leon came and got me!

Leon: If I didn’t get you, Niles would have just let them stand there screaming for hours.

Niles: And I would be laughing for all those hours.

Gordin: [sobbing] I’m sorry Takumi, I’m a terrible teacher. How can I teach without my good hand!?

Takumi: Eh...you were just excited to help me. I really appreciate you giving me your bow. Maybe we can train together when you’re all better.

Takumi: As equals, not student and...sensei.

Gordin: That sounds nice. But if I can’t teach you won’t be able to shoot double the arrows.

Kravice: [offscreen] That’s where you’re wrong!

Kravice: [on Legendary Azura’s ride] Sup guys, guess who finally learned the importance of dancers!

[a day, maybe, later]

--Aether Keep Rearrangement--

(Game context: Aether Keep editing is fun, just nothing but traps.)

Lewyn: Hello, Jeorge, enjoying your “break?”

Jeorge: Barely. I still hold the job as representative, so I still have to deliver messages to other realms, assist in gauntlets, and defend this place from invaders.

Lewyn: At least it’s cozy up here. [counting on his fingers] Got an inn, a park, places to shop, hot springs, and a library. What’s really missing is somewhere to eat.

Jeorge: It’s far from relaxing. The set up of this place changes constantly. Not to mention the traps.

Lewyn: What tra-- [Lewyn promptly falling through a trap door]

Jeorge: Lewyn!

--

Lewyn: [freaking out] WHY IS THAT THERE!? WHY IS THAT JUST THERE!?

Jeorge: Blame Kravice. He says it’s ‘fun.’

Kravice: [offscreen] I actually said ‘funny.’ 

Kravice: [on Azura’s ride] I get a lot of great snap shots with all my set ups.

Kravice: [turning around the tacticians tablet revealing a photo of Lewyn on top of Jeorge] Who do you think would benefit more from this? Anna or Nina?

Lewyn & Jeorge: >:^\

[A week or so later]

--Quadrupler--

[four arrows in the target]

Gordin: And in one swift motion you’ve shot 4 arrows into your foe’s back!

Takumi: I honestly thought my hands would be too small to hold all the arrows.

Gordin: If I can do it, so can you! [jazz hands]

Kravice: [offscreen] Taku!

Kravice: [Azura safely lands her horsey] I need you to come with me!

Takumi: You...need me for something?

Kravice: I’m gonna nab me another Michalis, so I need some fliers

Takumi: But we learned last time that arrows have no effect on him.

Kravice: [sparkle] That’s why we have Azura.

--XD--

[in the skies]

Ryoma: Takumi, you’ll have to take care of Michalis.

Takumi: But why? You’re more suited for this.

Ryoma: Look around you, Takumi, this is the only viable option.

[cuts to Michalis covered in arrows with hp bar at exactly half] 

Takumi: Even with Azura’s boost and all these arrows, I barely got him to half HP

Azura: <:^) Cheer up, okay. [gives taku another turn]

Takumi: [zoom in on stats] :0

Takumi: [turns to azura] XD

Azura: ....Okay, maybe tone it down a bit. [that finger pinch thing]

(game context: I have a video of a damaged taku getting danced by azura and it’s just exactly this)

--New Rep--

[Krav barging through the front doors, triumphant]

Kravice: Oh baby! I can’t believe my strategy actually worked! Good job out there, Taku!

Takumi: I...I gotta go! [runs away, redfaced]

Kravice: Compliments really do drive him crazy...

Alfonse: Kravice, I have urgent news.

Kravice: Okay? What is it.

Alfonse: Jeorge is stepping down as our representative.

Kravice: WHAT! BUT WHY!

Alfonse: He said...he’s tired of you.

Kravice: ...ouch...

Alfonse: We need a new representative. Someone who can bring up morale and encompasses the spirit of our castle!

--Camus’s Tit--

Kravice: [pacing the tactic’s room] I started learning to strategize for him and now he’s bailing like that!

Alfonse: I don’t think your tactics are the only reason. 

Kravice: I’ve done nothing but give him the worlds!

Alfonse: Well you’ve also killed him over two hundred times and fatally injured him twice that much

Kravice: But that’s less frequent now that I’m strategizing!

Alfonse: To be honest, Jeorge tolerated you much longer than I could’ve under your orders.

Kravice: What are you trying to say, Al.

Alfonse: You are...you...should really consider finding a new representative.

Kravice: Fucking! Camus’s Tit!

(context: That was my ingame name for a bit pshs)

--

[nowaki’s castle]

Nowaki: Hello--

Camus: [one(1) boob exposed] I have come with greetings from afar.

Nowaki: [slowly closes door]

--

(watching from afar)

Alfonse: I don’t think--

Kravice: Why do you take things so literally! 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I didn’t write a script for these next parts but here’s what was gonna happen:

Sentimental stuff, Jeorge passes the torch of representative to Taku, Krav approves, big ol ModFam moment and Party.

Month or so later, Jeorge starts getting bored just relaxing in the Aether keep and wants to travel still. He finds out he’s going to be in a gauntlet, and since Taku is representative at the moment, he’s the one to assist Jeorge in the gauntlet. You all know what happened with the gauntlet. <3

Jeorge comes back out of retirement but only for guantlets and just scouting worlds. He has an attachment to gauntlets pssh. Taku vows to protect him from getting hurt. They agree to be equals and protect each other when Jeorge decides to join battle.

For now, Jeorge chills in the Aether Keep with the Reserves (Lucius, BK, Lewn, L!Azura, etc) aka: units I use when I have to because they’re actually kind of built. Although, I’m using Lewn more and more because of his stupid infinite.

That’s how the plot/timeline is going so far. I have so much story to tell but agh my hands, but I hope these scripts are good enough context for why character focus and groupings are shifting and stuff.

[dappertron]

Showing off a small hypothetical cutscene for when Eszett defeats a boss and finds a cool plot rock - as of now, it's all editing tricks though it should work as a good blueprint when the time comes. The crux of these scenes are the collection of so-called Books, glassy crystal cubes that can beam hyper-realistic recordings of the past in the mind of its 'reader.' The eponymous Infinite Library supposedly created and curated them, and it is the hope of Eszett that gathering them may reveal its location. The close up is also organized in such a way that changing her facial expression is very easy, so in our mind's eye we see Eszett collecting a book, watch it rise up, waiting with glee for it to descend onto her hands, and then hfw it don't:

[rhotano-rose]

The Lines I’ll Cross

The Great Gubal Library of old, crumbling Sharlayan was certainly a place to be feared. It attracted both foolhardy adventurers and those with the well-earned title of 'hero' alike. And no matter who dared step inside its halls, no matter their experience or lack thereof, the cursed repository confronted them all with creatures beyond the norm of imagining, beings hailing from twisted dimensions of depravity.

Despite the terrors and dangers housed within, the promise of nigh-infinite knowledge was ever an attractive one. Rare were the reckless few who managed to smuggle out anything truly worth all the trouble. As was often the case with any reputable archive, the quality material was always to be found in the back. In the safety of the shadows, easily overlooked by the clumsy, half-witted masses.

Yet Rosa walked with purpose through the dark; she did not fear it, not anymore. Though the thick dust and musty scent of aging leather and parchment did a number on her eyes and airways. As she traversed the marble halls and long stairways, the dying sputter of oil lamps barely provided enough of a glow to light her path. More often than not, she was simply following the weak, muddled rays from towering windows upon the walls and overhead, betwixt innumerable shelves of long-forgotten texts.

From the blackness came the wretches of the void to deter her, and from the crystalline focus of her staff came blinding, scouring light to cast them back. Wild, deafeningly shrill cries echoed, echoed, and faded.. Yet she could feel them watching. So very many eyes hungered after the White Mage, as the purity she wielded steadily carved a pristine path through the gloom.

A previous escapade through the expansive corridors - many moons past - served to help in leading her to the section she sought. A dark, unassuming chamber. Yet the moment Rosa passed beyond the threshold, the air within shifted, seemed to thicken, a shawl of invisible weight borne upon her shoulders. As foreboding as the rest of the place had felt, the room she had entered easily tipped the scale.

Reality and awareness as she knew them seemed to waver here. Akin to stepping into a lucid dream, she stood within a corporeal vision where her surroundings could easily dissipate if she dared to question their existence. It was as real as she could grasp it to be-- and if it meant she could acquire what she came for, she was content to dream. Thus, taking a breath and focusing upon her goal, she proceeded further in.

The high-reaching shelves against the back wall were host to a myriad of various tomes, scrolls, stray pages separated from their bindings. Rosa caught the writing upon a few of them, and odd, illegible passages met her gaze, symbols crammed together in chaotic scribblings. They were not what she was looking for, thankfully; she didn't envy anyone tasked with transcribing that mess.

With a loft of her hand, motes of light arose into being, floating about like fireflies to illuminate - as well as offer warning to anything that may approach from behind. She could still feel their eyes, and the imposing statues that flanked the room were no exception. For better or worse, she was being watched-- though for the time being, they kept their distance, likely for fear of getting burned.

Titles shifted and blurred upon the spines. Faint whispers of indistinguishable words tried to cling to her hand as it traversed the rows. Whole tomes flickered in and out of being, the thread connecting them to the physical plane frayed to the verge of snapping. All the while Rosa's brow furrowed in her search, not a hint of surprise to be seen upon her features for all the peculiarity. She already understood the purpose of this room, after all.

These texts did not belong, did not originate upon Hydaelyn. The Mother Crystal was not the only world to be; the existence of the void suggested that much. But between late night mirror scryings, and aetherical readings from a certain makeshift altar, the fact of more was only further confirmed. To what extent these other worlds or realms stretched, Rosa didn't know. All too likely she would lose herself in the search for knowledge of them all if she tried. But she only needed one.

Words rung endlessly within her mind, words that challenged her, and ultimately led her to seek the truth. 'You will not find my name in the books or parchments scattered in the lands of Eorzea or this plane.' And it was true. No matter where she looked, no matter what scraps she had scoured for and salvaged.. the Jackal remained a most infuriating enigma she had the misfortune to barely begin to understand, let alone keep in check.

But here, maybe here..

She felt it, more than saw it. A sickly familiarity, like a nightmare she dreaded to remember. The tome her fingers paused before held an unfortunately similar aura, of the wretched creature she had glimpsed upon the first summoning, before it took on the face of its chosen vessel. Her fingers clasped the spine and pulled, unpleasant prickles sent up her arm as she drew it free. Clad in a thick, dark cover made of material she didn't recognize, the front bore no title, no emblem, nothing.. save for a faded name handwritten on the inside. ‘E. Felo'melorn.’

She could only surmise it to be the author’s-- though in truth, the book had the look of a journal or other manner of written account rather than a published work. The pages were yellowed and stiff with age, and Rosa took care in turning them. When she came across a loose one, she gently settled it back against the binding, ensuring it fit with its fellows as she moved on to the next.

She read, and read.. and nearly forgot exactly where she was as names and events slowly came to light. The Land of the Drifting Sands. The prophecy of the Great Maw. The last Pharoah. The Wishmaster. The Jackal.

With great reluctance, Rosa closed the book, and tucked it close, as much as her body protested the presence of it. She did not receive the same sense within the rest of the collection left sitting within the shelves.. at least not for now. She needed to ensure this one clung to the physical realm.. and letting it stay within this space, where the lines of dimensions blurred, could easily jeopardize that.

She turned her back upon the rest, the evidence of the beyond, of knowledge unknown.. and walked her way out of the dream. The book went into her bag the moment she crossed the rift, and swiftly she departed the way she came, with sacred light to guide and protect her as she fled.

And the curious book stayed with her, solid and real; she checked, double and triple-checked to confirm it. She dared not risk taking it with her through the aethernet. The good, old-fashioned way of chocobo-drawn carriage served well enough to ensure her find would not slip elsewhere. But she had to admit, the trip from the cold, rocky mountains of Dravania to the lush forests of the Black Shroud was a lengthy one indeed.

By the time she reached the Lavender Beds, the blanket of night had long-since settled over the land - but it was far from quiet, at least for Rosa's ears. The elementals thoroughly disapproved of the book she bore back to their domain, and made sure she knew it. ‘A blight! A stain! Be rid of it, seal it away!’ "I will, I will," came her weary response to the angry, swirling whispers. She would need to contain the thing properly, and make offering for her transgressions no doubt.. But she would do it on the morrow. She was simply too exhausted now.

A reassuring transmission over her linkpearl to Ajax promised her return before dawnbreak; she had another stop to make first. A quaint cottage upon a hill was her destination, a place she had recently secured to conduct her research without toting the more dangerous acquisitions - such as the one in her bag - to the apartment she shared with her beloved.

Once inside, she drew the tome back out and planted it upon the desk sat nearby, already covered in scattered papers, texts, a long-cold coffee mug.. and an unfamiliar bit of parchment - tattered and incredibly ancient. It had been faced away from her seat on the other side, like a note left by another hand for her to find upon her return. Puzzled, she took it up, eyes scanning the lettering upon it.

Abstract imagery met her gaze, what she could only take to be protective seals. Intricate engravings and symbols she could only barely understand with her rudimentary knowledge of runes and ritualistic circles.. but somehow they were familiar at the same time, tickling at her memory. If she could only remember.. but her tired mind provided little assistance. But the text that accompanied the curious markings did clue her in as to the sender.

Iados was always watching, after all. From the day he had protected her from harm, stood sentinel outside her recovery room, and continued to aid her efforts whenever she needed. Like a silent guardian, she knew he was often in her shadow, and held no doubt he already knew what she was doing. Why he was helping her this time, considering the man's own experience with the traumatizing influence of 'Jack', was a question she couldn't begin to solve.

Perhaps a proper meeting was in order. But again, another matter for a later time. Adrenaline had carried Rosa throughout her journey - along with a fair dash of stubbornness, perhaps. She could feel herself wearing down, and admittedly longed to crawl into bed for what few bells she could before Ajax's own workday began.

With the acquired texts secured within a substantially thick safe behind her desk - and no mirrors for any riddle-tongued demons to peep through - she took her leave of the cottage with the door equally locked behind her. As tired as she was, she expected a long, long rest.

But after that, she had a lot more reading to do.

(mentions: @elibraddock)

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Black Swan

Chapter 13

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5868

Chapter: 13/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Simon seeks the truth

Read on AO3

AN: Heyyyy this chapter is weird, be warned. Just remember is that we may know what's going on but no one else does. Hope you like this :D

———————————————

“I’ve started working on wind control,” Baz said. “I think I’m getting better. You were right, elemental magic is good general practice.” He flicked his wrist and created a mini tornado, tiny green leaves dancing through the sky.

“Cool,” Simon replied, voice distant and unfocused, just like his mind. Fuck, his mind was so far away it could be considered in a foreign traveller in a neighbouring kingdom. He was still reeling from what he saw last night.

The portrait was currently in the deepest, darkest corner of his closet after Simon spent hours studying it. And many hours and days later, it was still so clear. That boy looked exactly like Baz. Which would make Baz a prince. The prince. Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch, late Heir of Watford, who supposedly died in a fire. Just like the one Baz was taken from as a child. Like the one that killed his mother. Like the one that killed Queen Natasha.

On the surface, it made perfect sense. All the pieces fell together to paint a perfect picture. But it was so fucking insane. How could it be true? Baz, his wonderful and strange cursed boy, actually the dead prince. More noble than Simon ever was. His brain still couldn’t process it.

“Snow? Simon, are you there?”

Simon’s head snapped up. Baz was standing over him. When had he gotten so close? Had Simon been that lost to the world? “Huh?”

“You alright, love? You seem a bit out of it tonight.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just...thinking.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

Simon rolled his eyes and tapped his ankle in lieu of an actual kick. “Shut up, arsehole.”

Baz chuckled and put a hand on his hip. A few strands of black hair fell in his grinning face. He looked beautiful. He was perfect. He should know that.

“You’re really amazing,” he blurted out.

Baz’s face did a strange thing. His head pulled back and his lips slightly parted. Simon was never good at reading people, but that seemed like shock and awe. Was Baz awestruck by such a simple statement? He had to know that. He had to know Simon thought he was the most infuriatingly perfect man in the world.

His smirk returned, awe washed from his face. “Why thank you, Snow, I appreciate you stating the obvious.”

He was playing it off like a joke, but it wasn’t. Simon needed him to know how important he was. Long lost prince or cursed boy, he was so fucking incredible. Simon grabbed Baz’s wrist and yanked him down to the ground. Baz wobbled but found his balance on his knees, looking down at Simon with confusion. Simon took him by the back of the neck and kissed him firmly. Well, it was more just him shoving his mouth on Baz’s, no finesse or moving his lips the way he’d learned to over the past weeks. He didn’t want finesse. He wanted to somehow push his feelings into Baz, make him understand how much he cared just through their mouths touching. And when Baz pushed back, Simon wondered if Baz wanted Simon to know the same from him.

They separated with a small breath. Simon held his face tightly, thumbs dragging over his sharp cheekbones. The same cheekbones Natasha Grimm-Pitch apparently had. Simon was so conflicted. He of all people knew how terrible it was to be a prince. But...

“You really want to find your family,” he whispered, “right?”

Baz blinked at him. He sat back on his legs, wand placed carefully on the ground.He had that annoyingly attractive smirk again. “Well, it would be nice to know if I just manifested out of the aether or not.”

“Baz,” Simon half groaned, half sighed. “Please, just...actually answer.”

Baz squeezed his lips together. Simon tried to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead, but it was to no avail. Nothing short of a professional healer could probably soothe out that tension. But Simon tried anyway. He wanted Baz to feel better.

“I do,” Baz said, his voice a choked, small whisper. “I...I think I want to know if there’s someone out there that misses me.”

“I miss you,” Simon blurted out, almost defensive in a way. “I always miss you.”

Baz let out a breathy chuckle, hot air caressing Simon’s face. “I know, love. Thank you. I do appreciate it. It’s just, it’s not exactly the same. If I had a family, I must’ve disappeared on them. And I...I think, I want my absence to have been noticed. I want to know if someone...wants me to come home.” His voice broke slightly as he said it, and Simon’s heart crumbled at the sound. He was so vulnerable and open. Simon just wanted to hold him and protect him forever.

“And I need somewhere to go too, I suppose,” he laughed. “That’s just being practical.”

Simon wrapped both his arms around Baz, pushing Baz’s forehead into the crook of his neck. Baz hugged him back, bunching Simon’s shirt in his grip. He stroked Baz’s hair slowly. He wasn’t sure if he needed the intense comfort, but Simon would give it to him anyway.

Eventually, Baz pulled back, a half smile pulling at his mouth. He looked calmer. And that made Simon feel infinitely better.

“Let’s stop being all deep and sad, please,” Baz said with teasing lilt. “I want us to just be happy for once.”

Simon grinned and tucked a piece of hair behind his pointy ear. “Sure. I’m always happy around you though.”

Baz kissed a mole on his cheek. Simon noticed he liked to kiss that mole. It never failed to make his face flush. “I’m happy around you too.” He pulled back, wand pointed up. “And I want to show you this.”

He quickly jumped to his feet and held the wand to the sky. “A cold winter’s night.”

There was a small crack of thunder, then Simon felt something chilly and wet tickle his nose. His face scrunched up. He looked up, and felt more cold touch his skin. Simon’s eyes went wide. He held out his hand, and little flecks of white fell down, decorating his palm. He laughed breathlessly.

“It doesn’t snow here,” he said under his breath. “It never snows here.”

“Never say never, Snow,” Baz teased. “You must know by now nothing is impossible for us.”

Their eyes met between the falling powder. Yes, Simon thought, you’re right, nothing is impossible for you. Because you’re incredible and so strong. And you deserve to know that people miss you, even if it means having to possibly give you a burden like mine.

Simon stood up but immediately fell against Baz, head resting on his shoulder. One of Baz’s strong arms wrapped around his waist. They held each other in the soft snow. Baz was so solid and comforting. Simon stood in the cold shower and hoped that once Baz knew, this wouldn’t end in flames.

———————————————

Simon banged on the door as nicely as he could. He was impatient, but he wanted to stay on Penny’s good side. He especially needed to right now. And soon enough, the door swung open, with Penelope Bunce on the other side.

“This is becoming repetitive, Si,” she said, but she was still smiling.

“What, you don’t want to see me?” he asked

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, arsehole, you know I do.” She waved him inside and closed the door behind them. “But recently, every time you come to my door, you drop some sort of weird question or astounding revelation on me.”

Simon chewed on his lip. Well, he knew this was going to be weird. Now it was just going to be weirder. “Yeah, about that...”

Penny let out a loud sigh and threw herself on the couch. “What is it now, Si? Is Agatha turning into a dragon? Have Baz’s eyes gotten prettier?”

“Uh, no,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Actually...it’s a bit more serious than that. And a bit more real.” He plopped him on the couch next to Penny, rucksack in his lap. “I found something, and I need your help proving I’m not crazy.”

Her brows pulled together. “Okay...”

Simon took a deep calming breath, then opened his rucksack. “I was in the library late at night, researching stuff, trying to find Baz’s family, so he has somewhere to go after the curse is broken. But I didn’t find anything, so I decided to try going further back. And something...weird happened. I found this secret room with lots of expensive stuff in it. I also found this.”

Simon pulled the portrait out of his bag and shoved it at Penny. She jolted back, blinking rapidly. She took it cautiously and adjusted her glasses, examining every detail. “Okay,” she said slowly, “this is definitely noteworthy. I didn’t think that any of portraits of the Queen survived, let alone one of the Prince.”

“Yeah, I know, so did I. But also, the thing is...it took me a second to figure it out, but...” He reached over and tapped Tyrannus’ small, pudgy face. “That kid, looks exactly like Baz.”

Penny’s eyes went incredibly wide. “Wait, you mean...”

“I think Baz is Prince Tyrannus,” he blurted out.

Penny looked at him with a gaping mouth. “You think, that your cursed lover boy, is the dead son of Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch?”

Simon nodded slowly, fiddling with shaking hands quite a bit. “Y-Yeah, I think he is”

“But, Simon, the prince is dead! He died in the fire!”

“Yeah, yeah I know, Pen, but just hear me out.” He turned to Penny and looked her right in the eye. “Baz was kidnapped from a burning building when he was five. Someone took him and killed his mother, probably the same guy who cursed him. Maybe Prince Tyrannus was taken from the burning palace and everyone just thought he was dead. And that’s Baz.”

“But Prince Tyrannus isn’t missing,” Penny grumbled. “He died along with Queen Natasha in the fire. And how do you know all this about Baz and a fire? Does Baz really remember all these details from when he was five?”

Simon rubbed at the back of his neck, shrugging up to his ear. “Uh, Baz doesn’t remember that well. I actually...dreamed about all of it. Psychic visions and all that...”

Penny gave him a very particular look over her glasses. Simon recognised it from school when they were studying and he said something dumb or impulsive. “Simon, dreams aren’t reliab-”

“I know,” he groaned. “But I’ve been having them over and over for months. And they’re super consistent. And in it, a woman calls the boy I see ‘little puff’. That’s what Baz’s old caregiver called him. It’s too unusual to be a coincidence. And Penny, just look,” he pointed insistently at the picture again, “Baz looks exactly like the prince. Same hair, eyes, skin tone. They’re bloody identical!”

“I guess so...”

“You’ve seen Baz, Pen. Can’t you tell?”

“I’ve only seen him once, Si! From behind a mask and a headscarf! I mean, I’ll take your word for it, I trust your judgement.” He ran her thumb over the fancy frame, twisting her lip. “But, from what you’ve said about him, I don’t think this and your dreams will be enough to convince Baz he’s a bloody lost prince.”

“Yeah, I know. Which is why I was hoping I could look through your library. Your parents have stuff from before the castle burned down, right?”

Penelope sighed, then pushed herself to her feet. “Yes, most definitely. For once it’s probably good my parents are literary pack rats.”

She offered her hand, and Simon gladly took it, letting her pull him up. “Thank the Gods for book hoarding teachers.”

They both chuckled as they walked up the stairs together. The Bunce family library sat right next to Mitali and Martin’s bedroom. It wasn’t that big, and certainly wasn’t big enough to hold all their books. There were so many ceiling high shelves that you couldn’t see the walls. Simon had to tiptoe around precarious stacks of volumes and loose papers. Penny was already standing at a shelf, eyes scanning over the books.

“So what should we look for, Si?” Penny asked. Simon shrugged, and his friend glared. “We can’t sort through everything, Simon. We need somewhere to start.”

Simon scratched the top of his head. He asked himself, where would Baz start? “Um, how about stuff about the fire? I never learned any specifics about it.”

“None of us did, Si. King David took it out the history curriculum. He doesn’t want us to remember there was a royal family before you and him.”

Simon made a “humph” noise. King David and his bloody crown, always fucking everything up for him. “So there are no history books on the fire?”

Penelope shook her head. “Probably not.”

He twisted his mouth, rattling off possibilities in his head. So nothing made after the fire would have information it. But, what about something from when it first happened? Before David was in power. “Was there an announcement? Right after the fire happened?”

There was a pause. Simon wondered for a moment if he’d said something wrong. But then he heard a rustling, and when he turned around, Penny was on her knees, looking through a stack of scrolls. Simon stepped over book stacks to stand next to her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Well for one, thanking the Gods that my parents insist on keeping every town wide proclamation in case the royals try to contradict themselves,” she said. “Also, you’re a genius, Simon Snow, bloody genius.”

Simon blushed and shrugged. “Thanks, Pen.”

She kept sorting through the pile. Simon leaned down and helped her. Most of the scrolls had a green wax seal with a sword imprinted on it, the crest of House Owens. He tossed those away immediately. But once they made it through the top layer, the seal was a red flame, the symbol of House Pitch. Simon opened them and scanned the words as fast as he could. Most of them were boring. Tax increase this, district redraw that, blah blah blah. But then he found the words “tragic passing”. He hit Penny rapidly on the shoulder.

“Pen, Pen,” he said, “I think I found it.”

Penny scooted closer to him. Simon slowly unrolled the old paper. Luckily, the ink was still solid enough to read.

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE KINGDOM OF WATFORD: TRAGIC PASSING OF THE QUEEN AND CROWN PRINCE

August 2nd, 1102

It is with heavy hearts that the Royal Court of Watford must announce the tragic deaths of Her Majesty, Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch, and His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch. Both sadly perished in the disastrous fire that destroyed Watford Castle. The Queen and Prince are survived by His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Malcolm Grimm, and Lady Fiona of House Pitch. The castle shall be rebuilt in due time. The Court shall handle all royal duties until a new ruler is crowned. A vigil shall be held in Watford Town Square in two days time to honour the late Queen and Prince. May they both rest in peace.

“Pretty standard stuff,” Penny grumbled. “Poor Lord Grimm and Lady Pitch, though. They’re stuck up pricks, but they didn’t deserve to lose their whole family.”

Simon’s brow furrowed, contemplative frown pulling at his mouth. “1002,” he said slowly. “We would’ve been five then, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Baz is the same age as us. He would’ve been five when Watford Castle burned down, the same age he was brought to the lake.”

Penelope’s face scrunched up. Not on confusion though, more in thought. “You know his birthday?”

“Yeah. February 24th, 997.”

An toothy grin spread across her face. It was how she looked whenever she solved a problem. “Si, if there was a royal proclamation of the Prince’s death, there has to be one of his birth.”

Simon grinned as well. He grabbed her face and put a big wet kiss on her forehead. “You’re a genius too, Penelope Bunce.”

“Thank you, thank you. Now let’s look.”

They sorted through the scrolls again. It was harder now that they were in the Grimm-Pitch ones. Simon had to look over each one before tossing it away. It made everything take twice as long. What a weird thing to complain about.

“Got it!” Penny shouted. “I got it.”

Simon leaned over her shoulder as they read the words.

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE KINGDOM OF WATFORD: BIRTH OF CROWN PRINCE

February 25th, 997

It is with great pride that Her Majesty, Queen Natasha Grimm-Pitch and His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Malcolm Grimm announce the birth of their son, His Royal Highness, Prince Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch. He was born late last night at a healthy weight with no complications. Her Majesty is perfectly well after the birth. Prince Tyrannus shall be officially declared Heir to the Throne of Watford in one week’s time. Long may he thrive.

“Wait what’s this?” Simon asked, furiously tapping at the bottom of the page. Unlike the other announcement, there were two large symbols stamped on the bottom of the page. One was clearly the flames of House Pitch. But the other was familiar in a different way; it was of three wheat stalks on a field.

“Um.” Penny brought the parchment closer, squinting her eyes. “I think that’s the crest of House Grimm. They’re descended from farmers, it makes sense.”

Simon tapped it even more insistently. “That symbol, Baz, he-he has it, he has it!”

Penny looked at Simon like he was a few tarts short of a banquet. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I-It means, Baz he, he has this necklace, he’s had it his whole life. It’s got his birthday on one side, and on the other is this symbol. And you say it’s the crest of House Grimm. So that means...”

“He might have some connection to House Grimm,” Penny said, voice quiet, completely disbelieving.

“Like it being the house of his father!’ Simon bounced to his feet, nearly knocking over some book stacks with his waving arms. “This is it! It’s the same birthday, his necklace symbol. It’s proof that Baz is the prince!”

Simon felt like he was buzzing with delight. And he wanted Penelope to be jumping for joy like him. But she looked unconvinced. In fact, she looked almost sad. Simon immediately deflated.

“You don’t think so,” he said, voice bordering on a whine.

Penelope sighed and looked at Simon with sympathetic eyes. “I want to, Si, I really do. But, I just can’t get past one thing.”

“What?”

“The prince is dead.” She held up the first scroll towards him. “Look at the proclamation, Si. Tyrannus was uncategorically called deceased, after a horrible fire! Why would he be declared dead if he was just missing? Wouldn’t Lord Grimm, Lady Pitch, and everyone else in the bloody kingdom want to have hope that the son of Queen Natasha and heir to the throne was alive?”

Simon opened his mouth to argue, but unfortunately, Penny had a point. They wouldn’t declare a crown prince dead if there was a chance he was alive. “Maybe they made a mistake?” Simon said nervously.

“About the heir to throne?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s possible, right?”

Penny fiddled glasses, mouth shifting back and forth. “I guess. The person who examined the bodies might’ve mistaken someone else for the prince.”

“Who examined the people after the fire?”

“The court physician, I guess.” Penny’s eyes went wide. She lifted her eyes to meet Simon’s. “Who’s still Lord Wellbelove.”

Simon grinned once more. His heart was beating so fast he could hear the blood in his ears. Everything felt electrified. Even his skin somehow tingled. Hope was such a strange, wonderful sensation. “We have to go see Agatha.”

———————————————

“Remind me again why we need to get into my father’s office?” Agatha said as she fiddled with the keys. Simon and Penny stood behind her. They were all very lucky Lord Wellbelove was with Lady Wellbelove, both of them stuck in another meeting with King David. They had to hammer out final terms before the winter ball tomorrow. It sounded like hell. Simon hoped to save all of them from that hell very soon.

“It’s a very long story,” Simon said. “And I promise to explain it all to you later when everything calms down.”

She gave him a look over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Simon gave her his brightest, kindest smile. And thankfully, Agatha just sighed and shook her head. “Alright. I trust you, and I'll hold you to that full story later.”

Simon pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Aggie, you’re the best.”

Agatha made a “yuck” noise and wiped her face. “Yes yes, I know.” The key finally turned, a loud click resonating down the stone hallway. “And I’m the keymaster too.”

She pushed the door open. The hinges squealed like a rat’s who’s tail had been stepped on. Penny used her ring to light the torches along the wall. Lord Wellbelove kept a very organised office, thank the Gods. His oak desk was immaculate, with notepaper, a quill, and ink. Shelves were filled with identical versions of brown leather journals. The cabinets were labelled with initial ranges of what Simon had to assume referred to patient names.

“Your father is a neat freak, I see,” Penelope said, taking a torch to scan over the perfectly alphabetized files.

“Yeah,” Agatha sighed. “Something about ‘tidy room, tidy mind’, I think. Don’t ask me, my room looks like a tornado hit it.”

“C’mon, c’mon, we have to look!” Simon said. He threw open the filing cabinet drawer, flipping through the papers as fast as he could without messing it up.

Agatha stood over him with one hand on her hip. “And what the hell are we looking for, Si?”

“Uh, anything about the big palace fire. The one that killed Queen Natasha and Prince Tyrannus.”

“Oh, alright. You can check those files, but I doubt you’ll find anything about that in there.”

Simon spun around, looking up with her with utter confusion and desperation. “Why not?”

“Because,” she sighed, “he wouldn’t be able to keep a record that sensitive, the Court would take it. But even you wouldn’t be able to get into the Court records. They’re under heavy magical lock and key. Father is always complaining about it when he wants to learn from old cases.”

Simon’s whole body and soul deflated. “Oh. That sucks.”

“But,” Agatha walked towards the shelf of leather bound books, “I bet my father made notes in his journals. He’s obsessive about those things.”

“Yes, yes!” Simon suddenly felt alive again. He scrambled to his feet and followed her. “I remember, he was even writing in it during our graduation ceremony.”

Agatha sighed as she ran a finger over the journal’s spines, each branded with a date range. “Exactly. Mother and I were ready to kill him that day. What date are you looking for?”

“Uh, August 1002.” And like it was sent from the heavens, Simon saw that exact month and year stamped on the journal right in front of him. “Like this one says!”

He plucked it off the shelf and rushed over to the desk. Agatha stood behind him while Penny sat on the desk. Simon furiously flipped through the pages. It was a bit hard to read Lord Wellbelove’s chicken scratch writing (like Simon was one to talk). But soon he saw the word “fire”, and stopped dead.

August 10th, 1002, Final Conclusions from Palace Fire

After a thorough examination of the debris, I can conclude that Queen Natasha and Prince Tyrannus were the only deaths from the fire. Everyone else suffered mild to severe injuries, but are recovering well. Final conclusions:

H.S Queen Natasha O. Grimm-Pitch: Death by asphyxiation, most likely from smoke inhalation, body burnt but recognizable

H.R.H Prince Tyrannus B. Grimm-Pitch: Assumed deceased, body most likely too buried beneath too much debris

Despite the Prince’s body being unfound, Lord Grimm has said there is no hope his son is alive. He is too grief stricken and morose to continue. Agreed with King Presumptive David to cease debris search. Tyrannus will be declared officially deceased. My findings will be put in Court records. Hopefully the prince’s body will be found one day so I can examine it properly.

Simon’s jaw was firmly on the ground. And the ground felt like it had fallen out from underneath him so he hit the centre of the world. He read the words over and over, but it stayed the same. The proof before felt like poor, dirty scraps compared to this.

“Holy shit,” Penny whispered, “his body was never found.”

“Yeah,” Simon said, voice shaky.

“Why is that important?” Agatha asked as she leaned on Simon’s shoulder.

“It’s, uh, part of that long story, Ags.” Simon twisted his head to her. “Think your dad would notice if this journal went missing for a couple days?”

Agatha shook her head. “Definitely not. He’s too busy right now, he hasn’t been in this office in days. And I really do expect a long explanation later, Si.”

“Of course, of course.” He squeezed her hand with a big smile on his face. “Thank you, Agatha.” He looked back at the journal, and something caught his attention. He tapped Penny’s knee. “Pen, look, the Prince’s middle initial.”

He held up the journal to her, tapping his name. She took it and squinted, then chuckled under her breath. “Wow, that’s...quite the coincidence. It’s just an initial though. Agatha, do you know what the Prince’s full middle name is?”

“No, no clue. My father would know, I guess, but he’s still in the meeting with King David”

“Dammit,” Simon grumbled, picking at his nails. He wanted to see Baz tonight, before the Winter Ball. Before this damn engagement was announced before every member of the court.

Simon’s head bolted up. “Aren’t Lady Pitch and Lord Grimm here today? For the ball tomorrow night?”

“Um, they should be,” Agatha said. “No clue where they are though.”

Simon snapped the journal shut, the sharp sound reverberating in the quiet room. “I might know. And I have to talk to one of them.”

“Well, I have to get to work,” Penny said, jumping off the desk. She put a comforting hand on Simon’s arm. “Good luck with all this, Si.”

Simon squeezed her wrist. “Thanks, Pen.” He stood up and immediately pulled Agatha into a tight hug. She hugged him back, though with a bit of hesitation, which Simon understood. She had no idea what was going on, but she was willing to help him anyway. And he really loved her for it. He would tell her absolutely everything later. “Thank you, Aggie. You’ve really helped.”

“Welcome, Si,” she said. “Whatever this is, I hope you solve it.”

He chuckled as he pulled back. “Me too. I gotta run. I’ll see you later, alright?”

She nodded and delicately patted his shoulder. “You certainly will.”

Simon nodded back, then dashed out through the door. He had a vague idea where he wanted to go. And weirdly enough, his vague ideas were usually helpful. Hopefully this one was too.

———————————————

Simon was damn tired. He’d been wandering the guest wing for almost half an hour now and still no sign of Lord Grimm or Lady Pitch. Lord Grimm was probably holed up somewhere. He was notoriously anti-social at these sort of events, only coming out of obligation, and Lady Pitch wasn’t much better. Simon barely knew what Lady Pitch looked like, anyway. She made a point of coming to the castle as little as possible, and was probably only here after begging from Lord Grimm to be there for support during the Winter Ball. Simon guessed she looked like Queen Natasha and Baz. But even if that was true, this castle was so huge.

He turned a corner and slumped against the wall. This felt hopeless. It seemed only fair that after so many victories he’d get one defeat. It was just sad that he had come to a screeching halt this close to the end. This close to what he hoped was the final confirmation, the last clue that Baz was Prince Tyrannus, that he had a family. All he needed was to talk to one of the Grimm-Pitches. If only they weren’t so dark and mysterious and hard to find. Cook Pritchard was a Pitch cousin or something right? Maybe that would be easier. Maybe his feet would hurt less.

“This place is disgusting,” a woman’s voice grumbled. “Malcolm owes me big time.”

The voice’s owner turned the corner Simon was hiding in. She was a bit shorter than Simon, with reddish-gold skin and black hair, save for a single stark blonde streak. Simon caught a glimpse of her deep sea grey eye.

“Lady Pitch!” he shouted, rushing towards her.

Lady Pitch jumped and spun around, eyes wide and hands in a defensive position. Her mouth morphed into a scowl she fully took in who Simon was. She put a hand on the hip of her black trousers. (She was also known for openly flouting social conventions, especially when it came to clothes.)

“Well,” she growled, “if it isn’t Davy’s little exploding orphan princeling.”

Simon instinctively pulled in on himself. “Y-Yeah, it’s me. It’s an honour to meet you Lady Pitch, we’ve...never met me before, I think.”

“No. Because I didn’t want to.” Simon flinched slightly. She took a step forward, looming over him even with her lesser height. “Why are you bothering me, princeling? Don’t you have another family’s dignity to steal?”

“Um, I, uh, I, have a question actually, that I think you could answer, maybe.”

“Oh? I thought the Pitches had nothing to offer except taxes and a ready made kingdom for your father to snatch.”

Simon rubbed his burning neck. “Uh, he’s not technically my father...”

“Whatever,” she spat. “Your adopted father. Doesn’t change that you’re his heir and lackey.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess...”

She took another menacing step forward, both hands on her hips now. “So, what in the gods’ names would you want from me? Or do you get off on wasting my damn time?”

Simon gulped. And he thought Baz could be intimidating. He clutched the journal to his chest, the closest thing he had to a security blanket right now. “I wanted to ask you something about your nephew. Prince Tyrannus, I mean.”

“I only hav- had one nephew, princeling,” Fiona growled, arms crossing over her chest as she shoved her face forward. “Why the Hell do want to know about him? Your King has made it his mission to erase my sister and nephew from history. Looking for some way to resurrect their memory so you can desecrate it?”

Simon violently shook his head. “No! No, of course not, I-”

“Then what? Think my dead family is a fun little curiosity for you to play with?!”

“No! Just...” He took a deep breath. He was this close to blurting out the truth, but that would probably make Lady Pitch even more angry. She would accuse Simon of lying, and that was obviously incredibly counter productive. He took another breath and kept his eyes shut, focusing on his words. “I’m...I’m not like King David. I don’t want to forget the past. I-I want to learn about it. And from what I know about Queen Natasha, she’s someone I could learn from. I could learn from her ideas. And Prince Tyrannus was only five when he...died. He doesn’t deserve to be forgotten, I-I think.”

Simon looked at the ground as the silence stretched between them. It filled the space with an invisible weight the crushed Simon’s lungs and dried out his throat. Eventually, with a lot of built up courage, Simon lifted his head. Surprisingly, Lady Pitch didn’t look angry. Her eyes were narrowed, mouth a thin line. It was critical, but not in a malicious way. Just a curious way, trying to figure Simon out. Simon was familiar with that look. From Penny, from Baz, from lots of people trying to understand him. Few people did. He hoped Lady Pitch would be one of them.

“What do you want to know?” She asked, voice biting. But she still asked.

Simon let out a small sigh of relief. His grip on the journal loosened. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me before you ask, I may not have the answer. Now ask me your question before I change my mind.”

Simon nodded vigorously. “Right, right, sorry.” He rubbed at his neck, gulping before mustering up the words. “Uh, I was looking at old stuff about Prince Tyrannus, and I noticed that he was sometimes called ‘Tyrannus B. Grimm-Pitch’. So I was wondering what the B stood for...?”

The silence resumed. Lady Pitch didn’t look critical though. Instead, she looked very, very confused. “That’s what you want to know about? What my dead nephew’s middle name was? Really?”

Simon’s cheeks heated up. He went back to clutching the book. “Y-Yeah, I was just...curious. I can’t find his full name. He...he seemed like a nice kid. I was wondering what his full middle name was...” Lady Pitch was still looking at him like he was insane. Simon’s entire face was flushed. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just go now. Thank you for your time, Lady Pitch.”

Simon spun on his feels and started speed walking away. This was a dumb idea. He had enough proof anyway. This was just some sort of stupid desperate act for one more confirmation, he supposed. He didn’t need to know. He-

“Basilton.”

Simon stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. Lady Pitch was still standing there with arms over her chest. But she didn’t look angry, or sad, or anything really. Just neutral. Which was honestly better than the other options.

“What?” Simon said stupidly. He was still processing.

“Prince Tyrannus’ middle name,” she said with a hint of bite. “It was Basilton, or Basil for short. That’s what we in the castle usually called him. Does that answer your question?”

Simon stayed frozen for a moment, but once his brain came back to life, he nodded rapidly. “Yes, yes, thank you, very much.”

She didn’t say you’re welcome. Simon didn’t expect her to. But she did nod once, and that was the closest Simon knew he’d get to those actual words. “Hope you end up being better than Davy, princeling.”

“Uh, I’ll try.”

“Good.” She turned on her heels and walked away. And that was that.

Simon let out a long breath, resisting the urge to collapse to the floor. He was both filled with relief and buzzing with excitement. That was it. That had to be it. There was absolutely no denying it; Prince Tyrannus was not dead. He was very much breathing, cursed but otherwise well. And he damn well wouldn’t be cursed for much longer.

———————————————

AN: Fiona would've probably fought Simon right there if she could lol. Hope you liked that! I know this is a weird chapter. I'm nervous about publishing it. It was originally linked with chapter 14 but then it would've been like 27 pages long so I had to split them. I might publish chapter 14 a bit early, depending on how much of my essay I get done. Either way, see you guys next time :)

[mtgbracket]

The Top 256, provisionally ranked

So, we finally got to the stage where I can list all the remaining cards in the bracket in one post.

I have ordered the remaining cards according to a strength statistic of my own design; the details are in the results spreadsheet.

Here are the projected Top 8:

1. Lightning Bolt 2. Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite 3. Dark Confidant 4. Crucible of Worlds 5. Snapcaster Mage 6. Fact or Fiction 7. Jace, the Mind Sculptor 8. Liliana of the Veil

The projected Top 16:

9. Birds of Paradise 10. Swords to Plowshares 11. Force of Will 12. Ancestral Recall 13. Wrath of God 14. Emrakul, the Aeons Torn 15. Thoughtseize 16. Kiki-Jiki, Mirror Breaker

Projected Top 32:

17. Cryptic Command 18. Primeval Titan 19. Damnation 20. Mulldrifter 21. Ugin, the Spirit Dragon 22. Wheel of Fortune 23. Griselbrand 24. Deathrite Shaman 25. Delver of Secrets 26. Eternal Witness 27. Vindicate 28. Doran, the Siege Tower 29. Time Walk 30. Counterspell 31. Mother of Runes 32. Stoneforge Mystic

Projected Top 64:

33. Dark Ritual 34. Brainstorm 35. Gaea's Cradle 36. Path to Exile 37. Necropotence 38. Young Pyromancer 39. Channel 40. Aether Vial 41. Sakura-Tribe Elder 42. Blood Moon 43. Mindslaver 44. Knight of the Reliquary 45. Vendilion Clique 46. Sol Ring 47. Survival of the Fittest 48. Sylvan Library 49. Treasure Cruise 50. Umezawa's Jitte 51. Phyrexian Arena 52. Lingering Souls 53. Llanowar Elves 54. Black Lotus 55. Sword of Fire and Ice 56. Natural Order 57. Supreme Verdict 58. Monastery Mentor 59. Bitterblossom 60. Baleful Strix 61. Meddling Mage 62. Yawgmoth's Will 63. Gilded Lotus 64. Demonic Tutor

Projected Top 128:

65. Rancor 66. Phage the Untouchable 67. Elspeth, Sun's Champion 68. Abrupt Decay 69. Island 70. Gush 71. Karn Liberated 72. Wurmcoil Engine 73. Cruel Ultimatum 74. Platinum Angel 75. Tooth and Nail 76. Tolarian Academy 77. Tarmogoyf 78. Faithless Looting 79. Terminate 80. Entomb 81. Kitchen Finks 82. Hymn to Tourach 83. Cabal Therapy 84. Serra Angel 85. Doubling Season 86. Time Spiral 87. Birthing Pod 88. Solemn Simulacrum 89. Bloodbraid Elf 90. Progenitus 91. Sun Titan 92. Nicol Bolas, Planeswalker 93. Nicol Bolas 94. Library of Alexandria 95. Splinter Twin 96. Restoration Angel 97. Omniscience 98. Baneslayer Angel 99. Bribery 100. Strip Mine 101. Figure of Destiny 102. Treachery 103. Thalia, Guardian of Thraben 104. Tinker 105. Kolaghan's Command 106. The Gitrog Monster 107. Show and Tell 108. Grave Titan 109. Skullclamp 110. Pack Rat 111. Balance 112. Garruk Wildspeaker 113. Nevinyrral's Disk 114. Recurring Nightmare 115. Exploration 116. Mox Ruby 117. Sphinx's Revelation 118. Remand 119. Green Sun's Zenith 120. Enlightened Tutor 121. Lion's Eye Diamond 122. Dack Fayden 123. Geist of Saint Traft 124. Doomsday 125. Isochron Scepter 126. Mox Sapphire 127. Elvish Visionary 128. Consecrated Sphinx

And the remaining cards in the actual Top 256:

129. Glimpse of Nature 130. Avacyn, Angel of Hope 131. Monastery Swiftspear 132. Deranged Hermit 133. Cavern of Souls 134. Chandra, Torch of Defiance 135. Noble Hierarch 136. Goblin Grenade 137. Death's Shadow 138. Tireless Tracker 139. Yawgmoth's Bargain 140. Ensnaring Bridge 141. Krenko, Mob Boss 142. Life from the Loam 143. Phyrexian Obliterator 144. Flametongue Kavu 145. Fastbond 146. Entreat the Angels 147. Howling Mine 148. Niv-Mizzet, the Firemind 149. Terminus 150. Grave Pact 151. Time Vault 152. Exhume 153. Maze of Ith 154. Voice of Resurgence 155. Blood Artist 156. Oracle of Mul Daya 157. Mox Emerald 158. Pernicious Deed 159. Duress 160. Nykthos, Shrine to Nyx 161. Liliana, Heretical Healer 162. Mana Vault 163. Inferno Titan 164. Dryad Arbor 165. Armadillo Cloak 166. Jace, Vryn's Prodigy 167. Seedborn Muse 168. Horizon Canopy 169. Forest 170. Narcomoeba 171. Captain Sisay 172. Sheoldred, Whispering One 173. Mountain 174. Animate Dead 175. Rampant Growth 176. Sword of Feast and Famine 177. Trinisphere 178. Panharmonicon 179. Shardless Agent 180. Shivan Dragon 181. Fireball 182. Gisela, the Broken Blade 183. Stifle 184. Chalice of the Void 185. Ghost Quarter 186. Berserk 187. Terror 188. Swamp 189. Toxic Deluge 190. Through the Breach 191. Reflector Mage 192. Imperial Recruiter 193. Blightsteel Colossus 194. Spellskite 195. Polluted Delta 196. Linvala, Keeper of Silence 197. Venser, the Sojourner 198. Karakas 199. Grizzly Bears 200. Oblivion Ring 201. Sword of Body and Mind 202. Kozilek, Butcher of Truth 203. Anguished Unmaking 204. Nahiri, the Harbinger 205. Thrun, the Last Troll 206. Ashnod's Altar 207. Stasis 208. Morphling 209. Grove of the Burnwillows 210. Flickerwisp 211. Everflowing Chalice 212. Coalition Relic 213. Engineered Explosives 214. Academy Rector 215. Merciless Eviction 216. Master of Waves 217. Krosan Grip 218. Leyline of Sanctity 219. Serra's Sanctum 220. All Is Dust 221. Rite of Replication 222. Basking Rootwalla 223. Jace Beleren 224. Smokestack 225. Force Spike 226. Inquisition of Kozilek 227. Edric, Spymaster of Trest 228. Golgari Grave-Troll 229. Summer Bloom 230. Explore 231. Scroll Rack 232. Murderous Cut 233. Donate 234. Faerie Conclave 235. Infernal Tutor 236. Mimic Vat 237. Sphere of Resistance 238. Sundial of the Infinite 239. Azami, Lady of Scrolls 240. Atog 241. Badlands 242. Farseek 243. Goblin Warchief 244. Wildfire 245. Spell Queller 246. Frantic Search 247. Street Wraith 248. Terastodon 249. Polymorph 250. Karn, Silver Golem 251. Telling Time 252. Savannah Lions 253. Turnabout 254. White Knight 255. Rites of Flourishing 256. Hydroblast

[s4turns-rings]

the beginning of everything

the cyclical universe is a universe that exists in phases, or ‘cycles’. in each of these cycles, different spirits, or aspects of life (creativity, freedom, structure, recovery, etc), head these cycles and are the ones who shape the different worlds. naturally, cycles die out on their own with time. however, different stressors or the death of the spirit’s vessels (extremely uncommon but has occurred before -- does not kill the spirit itself, only the body it inhabited during that cycle) will end a cycle prematurely.

an infinite amount of cycles can exist, however, they occur sequentially and can take trillions of years to end so only so many exist at once due to their length.

and above the cycles system, an aether exists which is where all the other spirits which are not at work in the current cycle reside, alongside the cycles’s shared afterlife and the ‘infinite library’, a location where the happenings of every cycle that has existed are kept.

[black-omen-born]

This follows straight from some plot RP I did LIKE A WEEK AGO i’m slow and this is a clunkfest but i haven’t been writing a lot so i’m outta practice

Rinha’li sleeps, Rinha’li dreams, the book he carries isn’t entirely what it seems -- at least not anymore. @moralistcyclops @saerdha @sedatayuun @goldengridanian i think all have a mention at least

It was not the first time Rinha’li had ended an encounter in a dead faint, and it was unlikely to be the last. The calculations that arcanists employed to arrange their aether-flows into finely balanced perpetual motion machines allowed them to channel nigh infinitely -- a clever trick, but paid for in almost guaranteed aether-sickness that no amount of mathematical tinkering could avoid. Caution might keep one safe, but Rinha’li still disliked violence intensely and found it easier to suppress the urge to flee if he threw caution to the winds and poured every ounce of his nerve into his magic, heedless of any limits.

It was a dreamless swoon at first, as it usually was -- pure oblivion, lit up occasionally by flashes of incomprehensible sensation. At some point his consciousness re-asserted itself, as Rinha’li became dimly aware that someone was carrying him, and that there were familiar voices all around.

His hands were empty, his arms loosely folded across his body. His fingers twitched, reaching for something that was not there.

“My grimoire,” he finally said. It took many tries for the words to leave his thoughts and reach his tongue. “Get...grimoire...” And then, having gotten across what was currently the most important thing on his mind, he fell back into darkness again.

* * *

Rinha’li is ten years old again, sitting and watching as his cousin digs in the dirt with a wrapped flint knife. His first real friend, she often appears in his dreams now that she is long dead. The hole her idle digging has stirred up is completely filled with squirming black worms.

“Do you miss me?” Lhira plucks one of the worms from the tiny pit and holds it up so it thrashes wildly between her fingers. “Now that you’ve left the Forest?”

Rinha’li thinks about the question, and about all he has now. “I don’t really know,” he says.

His cousin squeezes the worm in her hand until it bursts violently, its putrid insides gushing over her hand.

* * *

He might be officially registered as S'aerdha's pupil by now -- he hasn't seen the paperwork himself, so he isn't sure -- but Rinha'li is still reasonably certain he isn't supposed to be in this part of the Ossuary. The walls are carved with warding sigils, and there are temporary ones painted over those in faintly glowing ink. The floor is bare stone, but most of the small square chamber is taken up with a circle of salt, poured in intricate spirals. The air smells like every kind of perfume and Rinha'li can see S'aerdha hunched over in the center of the circle, prowling around on his hands and knees like he can't stand up straight. He's dressed like always -- showing off his expensive taste with vivid silks and delicate gold filigree -- but he won't speak. "You can just step over it, you know. The salt." Rinha'li sits down outside the circle, and S'aerdha looks up at him and hisses with his needle fangs bared, and Rinha'li isn't quite so certain it's S'aerdha in the circle anymore.

* * * The place is beautiful, like all Ishgardian cathedrals are. Rinha'li wanders among the silent corridors, nearly falling over trying to crane his neck upwards to see the endless arches, finding alcove after alcove dedicated to saints he does not know the name of -- room after room of heroic deeds and tragic martyrdoms that seem to have no end. Every door he tries leads to a new nave, with enough pews to seat an army and an altar to the Fury more awe-inspiring than the last. He slips through tiny side gates into  long hallways lined with offices, memorials, little private libraries and counting-houses and studios meant for scribes. "Pardon me," he finally works up the courage to ask a passing priest. "Which way leads outside?" The priest looks at Rinha'li as though he is speaking an unfamiliar language. After a moment, Rinha'li realizes he has been talking to a marble statue.

* * * The woman's rage is almost palpable but she can't fight against stone -- not here, anyway, with the walls warded. The alabaster cherubim will not move under anyone's command but their master's; there are four of them pinning her fast and her magic will not obey. She struggles, curses, rages, spits. "Idiot," she hisses. "Fool. You cannot close the door once it has been opened. Mhach will--" "Mhach!" the other woman barks. Rinha'li is watching this scene play out but he can feel this other voice's contempt on his own tongue, somehow. "What does Mhach have? Parlor tricks and disobedient little pets. We have power over all life and death, mage of the black. Nothing walks upon Eorzea save that we will it. You are nothing." The Mhachi mage opened her mouth to say something, but her words were choked out as flowers took root and burst forth from her throat, filling her mouth with blood and violets.

* * * Rinha'li awoke with a start, sat up, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea hit him full force. He doubled over, retching helplessly, and felt some soothing hand on the back of his head. "Oh, that's good," Atlan said breezily. "I didn't want to wake you up, but if you were sleeping much longer we'd start to worry." "How long was I out?" Rinha'li asked faintly. He swallowed hard; the violent sense of sickness was starting to subside a bit, but his stomach was still twisted up in dreadful knots. "A little over a day. Vallen brought you some honeycomb when you're up for it." "Is everyone...?" "Right as rain, for the most part -- Kodaro got a bit singed but I think he's had worse." Atlan tapped his brow with one finger, right over the side where Kodaro wore his eyepatch. Rinha'li winced sympathetically. "S'aerdha's recovering and doing a lot of thinking." Carefully, Rinha'li straighted up, his head still swimming. Beyond all expectations, Atlan looked as cheerful as ever. "...where d-did...did you put my grimoire after..." Rinha'li began, but Atlan seemed to have anticipated the question. "Oh, it's right here, don't worry." On the nightstand, right by Rinha'li's head as he slept. Carefully, he opened the book to the last page he could recall casting from, hoping the flood of black ink that had accompanied his experimental spell had been a spontaneous aether manifestation and not a permanent feature. Luckily, the pages were pristine. His hand still shaking, he turned to what should have been the next blank page, recently prepared to accept a new geometric variant, once he finished perfecting it. This page was stained with black and red ink, smeared haphazardly into the shape of a single violet blossom. Rinha'li let out a breath. "Atlan," he said softly, "c-can you take dicatation for me? I had...a most evocative dream."

[dappertron]

Neither rain nor snow nor gloom of evil will stay this courier from her appointed rounds