#all four maiden realized the power

[candycandy00]

The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 1

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Any feedback whatsoever is greatly loved! If you’d like to be tagged when I post another part, comment to let me know. You must have your age in your bio or pinned post and be 18+ to be tagged.

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex. Blood. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader.

Your forehead touched the ground, your entire body bent to bow as low as possible as the honored guest of the festival passed by. You didn’t dare look up at him. You’d heard stories of villagers being instantly beheaded by invisible blades for such an offense. 

Even when he was gone, climbing up the steps to the shrine your people had built for him several years ago, you kept your head pressed to the ground. There you and all the other villagers remained until someone announced that Lord Sukuna, your village’s living deity, had gone inside the shrine. 

Every year your village held a festival in Lord Sukuna’s honor. It was a week long affair, and each night generous offerings were left at the shrine’s doors for him to partake of. Sumptuous fruits, tender cooked meats, fragrant oils, delicate trinkets made of precious metals, sake of various types, and of course, beautiful women. 

Lord Sukuna remained inside the shrine for the entire seven days and nights, then left until the next year, when the process began again. The women offered to him were never seen again. 

On the fifth day, you were helping your mother prepare a basket of fruit for an offering. There were juicy pomegranates, glossy apples, and ripe peaches. They smelled heavenly, and you smiled as you arranged them to look as beautiful as possible. 

A sudden voice at the entrance to your home caught your attention, a man speaking to your father. “Please try to stay calm,” the man was saying, “but your daughter has been selected to be tonight’s offering.”

Your mother wailed beside you, clutching you in her arms as if she could keep you from being taken. Your father turned to look at you with an anguished expression. You yourself simply felt numb. A part of you knew this could happen. You were of age, unmarried, and had been told you were pleasing to look at. It was only a matter of time, really. 

So you stood in your home, your sobbing mother still holding you, as three shrine maidens walked in. They were quiet, older women dressed in white robes with downcast faces. They bowed to your parents, as if thanking them for their involuntary sacrifice, then took you by the hands. One of them helped your father pry your mother’s arms away from you as the other two led you outside. You didn’t even have time to say goodbye to your parents. 

You went with the shrine maidens willingly. To struggle or resist would mean death for you and your family, and then another girl would be in your place, being pulled out of her home while her parents cried. It would happen to someone regardless tomorrow night, but at least this would spare one family the misery. 

The shrine maidens took you to a small temple that sat at the base of Sukuna’s shrine. There they removed your simple garments and had you step into a large, warm bath. Floating in the water were near countless cherry blossoms, giving the entire room a sweet fragrance. You looked at the pretty pink flowers and, upon realizing this was the last time you would see them, began to cry. 

One of the women came closer and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. You looked up at her in surprise. The shrine maidens were normally quite stoic, keeping to themselves, maintaining Sukuna’s shrine between festivals, and helping to prepare offerings and see to the Lord’s needs while he was there. From your understanding, they were the only people besides the village elders who were allowed to have any contact with Lord Sukuna at all. 

“Try to keep your head down,” the shrine maiden whispered, “and don’t look at Lord Sukuna until he tells you to. In fact, don’t do anything until he tells you to. Try to please him in whatever way he asks.”

You wiped your tears with your hands and looked at her sadly. “Does it even matter? Has any woman pleased him enough to survive?”

The shrine maiden’s grip on your shoulder became slightly more firm. “It does matter! If you please him, he might give you a quick death. We’ve been forced to clean up the remains of many women who displeased him. Believe me, you don’t want to be among their number. There are far worse fates than being beheaded.”

You shivered at her warning, but decided on the spot to follow her advice. Although the shrine maidens had remained silent about what happened to the other offered women, only confirming their deaths, rumors had drifted among the village for years. Stories of women being skinned alive, having their eyes ripped out of their sockets, having every bone in their bodies broken and their mangled limbs twisted into nightmarish shapes. You’d always hoped they were merely stories made up by the more morbidly curious villagers. 

You composed yourself and then asked the older woman a question. “What is he like?”

The woman glanced back at the other shrine maidens who were preparing a garment for you to wear, then said in a low voice, “Lord Sukuna is cruel. He has no mercy for anyone. He is a monster.”

You felt your heart sink. You would be taken by this man tonight, and you’d never even laid eyes upon him. 

When the bath was finished, you stepped out and were dried off by the women. They then dressed you in an extremely thin white robe. It was so thin that you were certain anyone could see right through it, making you feel embarrassed at the thought of walking into the shrine this way. Then you reminded yourself that he would probably rip it from your body anyway. 

They lightly painted your face and combed out your hair, leaving it unadorned. Then they opened the doors and motioned for you to follow. 

As you climbed the steps to the shrine, the shrine maiden who had spoken to you before gave you instructions. 

“When you enter, keep your eyes down toward the floor. Lord Sukuna will be seated on a dais before you, but you must not look up at him until you are given permission. Once you reach the dais, bow down as low as possible and remain that way until commanded otherwise.”

Your heart was pounding as you neared the end of the stone steps, and the end of your life. You stopped in front of the doors and took several deep breaths to try and steady yourself, then you lowered your gaze to the space in front of your bare feet as the women opened the shrine. 

You could feel his eyes upon you from the moment you stepped inside. The shrine maidens did not accompany you, and closed the doors behind you, leaving you to your fate. You slowly walked forward, keeping your eyes down, feeling a terrifying sense of pressure emanating from the dais that was supposed to be in front of you. 

The walk toward the dais was nerve wracking. You didn’t know how close or far it was, and you felt naked in the sheer robe, your cheeks no doubt burning red at the thought of this man staring at you. 

When you saw the edge of the dais come into view, you stopped and immediately knelt down, pressing your face to the floor as you always did with the other villagers every year. Then you waited. 

For several minutes, you heard nothing. No breathing, no movement. Then a smooth, deep voice said, “You may look up now.”

You shuddered, then worked up the courage to raise your head slightly while maintaining a posture of submission. When you did, your vision was suddenly full of the man your village worshipped, the dreaded monster called Sukuna. 

He was a man, not a beast, and you were shocked by how handsome he was. He sat not on his chair but across it, one leg drawn up at his side and the other hanging down, in a surprisingly casual pose. He wore white robes, the front open to his waist to reveal a muscular torso that drew your eye. 

His face was lined with strange tattoos, and in his eyes there was an intensity that nearly took your breath away. You remained perfectly still even as your heart thundered in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening, why you suddenly felt drawn to this man. You could feel the danger, you had the sense that he would rip you to shreds without a second thought, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Something about the terror he provoked also excited you. With a spike of alarm, you realized you wanted to touch him. 

When he spoke again, his voice had a silky texture that made you feel weak. 

“There are three types of women who end up here,” he began, looking down at you as if you were an insect he was about to stomp on. “There are those foolish enough to think they can seduce me. They feign love, and I let them live in their delusions, right up until I take them to my bed. The delusions shatter pretty quickly then.”

His lips curved up into a fiendish smirk, and you were left wondering what terrible things he did to those women in his bed. 

“Then there are the pathetic ones who cry and beg for mercy from the start” he went on. “Unfortunately this is the most common type. I have my way with them and then utterly destroy them. It’s what they deserve for boring me.”

Were these the women who displeased him? The ones who received the most brutal deaths? The cruelty of it stunned you, that the weakest and most frightened women were given the most horrific fates. 

“The last type is my favorite,” he said with a haunting grin, “the ones who fight and scream and claw. These provide me with the most amusement, but sadly are the most rare. It’s hilarious, you see, to watch them slowly realize they never had a chance in the first place. I enjoy breaking their bodies and their spirits. And to reward them for the entertainment, I have them on my plate after having them in my bed.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in. Plate? Meaning he ate them? He kept grinning, perhaps guessing what you were thinking. You felt a wave of nausea hit your stomach, but you kept your breakfast from coming back up through sheer force of will. 

“I wonder what type you are,” he said, his red eyes boring into you, his unusually sharp teeth bared in his smile. “Try not to disappoint me.”

He stood up then, and his height was imposing, even more so because you were still kneeling on the floor. 

You kept your expression blank, but your mind was racing. What type were you? None of the three he described matched how you felt. You had initially resigned yourself to your fate, and had planned to simply be quiet and obedient until he tired of you and killed you. But now that you were in his overwhelming presence, you couldn’t suppress the thrill you felt, the animal-like attraction to this brutal yet beautiful man. 

The rational part of your brain was filled with terror and dread. Lord Sukuna was going to do indescribably awful things to you this night, then murder you and discard you as if you were nothing. But a bizarre little piece of your brain, one you’d never realized was there before now, was growing more excited by the moment. 

“Stand,” he commanded, and you hurriedly got to your feet. You felt your face burning again when his eyes roamed over your barely concealed body. He turned and walked toward the back of the shrine, looking over his shoulder at you to say, “Follow.”  

You obeyed, walking after him, careful to remain several steps behind. You soon came to a room marked off by sheer curtains, which Lord Sukuna pulled back to reveal the most lavish, ornate bed you had ever seen. Unlike the thin futon you were used to, this bed was thick and elevated off the floor. There were silk pillows and a satin-lined blanket, and the fabrics had apparently been perfumed, as they carried a heady, floral scent. 

When Sukuna reached the bed, he stood beside it and turned to face you. “Remove your robe,” he said in his rich voice. 

You nearly buckled right then and there. The fear and shame were mixing with arousal, and you thought you might collapse. With shaking fingers, you untied the thin sash around your waist. Then, with Sukuna watching intently, you opened the robe and slipped it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. 

You’d never been bare in front of a man before, and it felt as if your skin burned wherever his gaze fell as his eyes moved up and down your form. 

He stepped closer and looked down at you, into your eyes. Did he see the turmoil inside you? The raging war between horror and lust? 

His hands fell upon your trembling shoulders, and his touch felt electric. Finally, his hands on your skin! But then he jerked your body around so that you faced away from him, and those hands roughly explored your exposed flesh. One of them squeezed your right breast while the other moved down to grope between your legs. You gasped at the sensations, at being touched in this way for the first time, at the realization that you didn’t hate it even though his touch was harsh. 

One of his fingers slipped into your folds, and  your breath hitched in your throat as he grazed over a particularly sensitive spot. You felt him pause, both hands going still, and then he suddenly turned you back around to face him. He seemed to study your face for a moment, and then a smirk spread across his features. 

All at once you were thrown onto the bed, your little cry of surprise ignored as Lord Sukuna slowly climbed on top of you. His hands were upon you again, grabbing and kneading the soft, plush areas of your body, his grip strong and bruising. He moved down, then pushed your knees up toward your chest, opening your thighs obscenely wide apart. 

There was a strange look in his eyes as he gazed down at your most private place, and again that smirk. He bent down, his face getting so close to your body that you could feel his breath. You couldn’t help blushing at the closeness, and then you felt something warm and wet glide up your slit. When you looked down, his tongue was extended from his mouth, a string of clear fluid attaching it to your body. 

A shudder rippled through you as he dove back in, this time pressing his tongue in between the folds of flesh to lick your swollen and sensitive clit. “Ah… ahh!” The small quick moans escaped your lips before you could stop them, and you felt a stab of fear when Sukuna looked up at your face. You were told not to do anything without his permission, so you had refrained from speaking. You didn’t want to displease him in any way, so you were trying to be completely silent. But when his tongue returned to your clit, circling it and then pressing into the top corner, even more moans came out. 

Lord Sukuna continued until your body stiffened, your hands gripping the silken sheets as pleasure shot through you and one last, long moan broke free. He pulled away from you and looked down, watching you pant as you started to drop your tired legs back down. He grabbed them before they could straighten and touch the bed, pressing your knees back up. 

You looked at him just as he opened his own robe, revealing the same pattern of black tattoos all over his body. It was a strangely alluring sight, but your eyes were quickly drawn to the very large and imposing organ between his legs. It stood stiff and ready, and you knew what was about to happen. 

Sukuna looked you in the eyes as he shoved himself inside you, so deep and so hard that you could only describe the motion as violent. He didn’t give you even a moment to adjust before he was thrusting viciously into you. It hurt, and even as naive as you were, you understood that he wanted it to hurt. He was clearly being as rough as he possibly could without literally tearing you apart, and tears stung your eyes as you bit back a scream, using one hand to cover your own mouth. 

Sukuna pulled your hand away from your face, then leaned down close and spoke into your ear, a whisper that that sent shivers through you despite the pain you were in, “Cry for me. I’ll allow it. Let me hear your voice.”

Hearing that, you let out a cry of pain before beginning to sob. You looked up him with wet eyes and found him grinning, enjoying your suffering. He truly was a monstrous man. His motions only became rougher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you thought he might crush them. 

“Please… L-lord Sukuna…” you managed to cry out.

“Please what?” Again, that voice in your ear, that self-satisfied smile while watching you cry. 

“I-I don’t… I don’t know…” You didn’t know what you wanted. Did you want him to stop? You wanted the pain to end, but you didn’t want him to climb off you. 

“Really? Then I won’t let up.”

Unbelievably, he was thrusting even harder, even deeper. When you could no longer bear it, your hands that had been clenched at your sides flew up to wrap around his neck. He would probably kill you for touching him without permission, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Clutching him in your arms somehow made the agony between your legs subside just a little. 

If he was angered by your touch, he didn’t show it. Instead, he laughed as if he were amused by your desperation. 

Finally, when you were nearly at the limit of what you could withstand, you felt Sukuna’s cock twitch, his body go tense, and then  warm, sticky fluid shoot inside you. Your arms slipped down from his neck as he pulled out of you and let your sore legs fall to the bed. Somewhere in your dazed mind you knew this was the end. He’d had his fun with you and now he would kill you, just like all the others. You saw him stand up from the bed and wrap his robe around himself, but before he could even turn around, you passed out. 

*****

Sukuna looked down at the offering, feeling slightly annoyed that she had given out so quickly. She had held out better than most, however. 

Despite what he’d told her earlier, over half the women offered to him never even made it to his bed. They were crying too loudly or shoving their fake affection in his face or even having the gall to try to attack him. They ended up as chunks of meat in front of the dais. 

But this girl had been frustratingly blank and silent. He’d considered beheading her, but on a whim had decided to force a reaction out of her, thinking she could provide some entertainment. The reaction he got was not what he’d expected. 

Sukuna was fully capable of making a woman become aroused, but it was always after applying plenty of stimulation to certain areas, not because he wanted to pleasure them, but because fucking them felt better for him when they were wet. This girl, however, was practically dripping from the moment he first touched her. And when he’d looked at her face, he’d seen reddened cheeks and lusty, glazed eyes. He also saw fear, and that mixture was too delicious to waste. 

Those sounds she’d made, from the little hitching breaths to the soft moans she’d struggled to hold back, to the screams and cries of pain, had all been irresistible. He wanted to hear more of them. 

He stood looming over the bed, watching the growing red stain beneath her naked, still open thighs, and wondered what he should do with her. He could kill her right then and there as she slept, but that would be boring. Much better to listen to her sweet death cries. 

He reached up and absently touched the back of his neck. He could still feel her weak arms clinging to him. He stared down at the bruised and bleeding girl in his bed, at her sleeping tear-streaked face, and came to a decision. 

He summoned one of the shrine maidens, who entered the room with her eyes on the floor. She pointedly avoided looking toward the bed, probably afraid of what she would see. 

“Inform the village I won’t be needing a woman tomorrow night,” Sukuna told her. “I’m not finished with this one yet.”

The shrine maiden’s face lifted very slightly, the shock so much that she nearly forgot her manners. She quickly bowed again and said, “Yes, Lord Sukuna,” before hurrying out of the room. 

He sat down on the bed, then sighed before pulling a thin silken sheet up and draping it over the offering’s body. 

“Sleep while you can,” he murmured, a wicked grin returning to his face. “Tomorrow you’ll be entertaining me again.”

[fairysluna]

unrequited.

Aegon was unable to keep his love for you as a secret, but he did not expect for you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader.

TAGS — angst, unrequited love, inspired by THAT scene from little women, hurt/no comfort, a bit of miscommunication, one sided love, a lot of crying, guilt, cursing, aegon was named heir. If something is missing, let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — i was sad, i was watching little women, and then i remembered that i haven't written angst in a very long time. It's short, but well, it is what it is. I'm trying to escape the writer's block so bear with me if this isn't perfect, hope you all like it!🤍

WORD COUNT — 1.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

There was something in the way his eyes looked at you that should have warned you about what was going to happen. Maybe the way his company felt slightly different, or the way he purposely brushed his hand as he walked beside you along the shore of Dragonstone.

A peaceful silence reigned between you two, where only the sound of the sea and seagulls were heard. There was never a need to be talkative whenever you were with him, you two did not need words to express to one another, just a single glance at him and you would be able to read him as if he was a book. It had always been that way. Aegon had never attempted to hide how much he enjoyed your company; no matter how many duties and responsibilities his position might have, he would always find some time during the day to make you company. The mere sound of your cheerful laughter was enough for him to feel whole. Happy.

Your friendship with Aegon began unexpectedly; you were a Lady of a small house, bannermen of the Tyrells. Not even in a million years you would have thought you were going to be one of the heir's closest friends. But you were, and Aegon loved it. You were not like other maidens, you always saw beyond his royal title, beyond the power he would once hold. You saw him as Aegon, Egg as you would sometimes prefer to call him. He loved that you were a breeze of fresh air that would wake him up from his torment every time he felt too overwhelmed.

You were everything for him, an escape of the four wall prison that would often be disguised as a castle. You set him free.

Aegon, inevitably, fell for you in the most beautiful of ways; slowly and unexpectedly. One day he woke up and felt the urge to hold you in his arms each morning; he could not stand another minute without you by his side - it felt almost unnatural to be without your company. His heart found a reason to beat with your presence, his brain would often overshadow his thoughts with silly daydreams about you.

You, you, you. It's always you. It has always been you.

Now, as you were complaining about your Septa scolding you that same morning, Aegon was in awe, mesmerized by you doing such a mundane thing like talking. And, bewitched by the way your lips moved, he stopped his pace. Salty air filling his lungs as he encouraged himself to say what he has been dying to say to you.

You did not realize about it until you were a few steps further than him, and you turned around. He was just looking at you; his puppy, lilac eyes staring at your face almost without blinking. You chuckled nervously, confused about what was happening. You smiled awkwardly, feeling a bit too exposed all of the sudden.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, frowning.

He did not reply, but you saw it in his eyes.

Your smile slowly faded away once the realization hit you, and the atmosphere changed immediately.

“Aegon…” You mentioned his name so differently, it felt almost foreign due to the way it left your lips. It was a plea, you were begging him to not say the words that were about to be pronounced.

He took a step closer; the dreamy glow in his eyes was still there, as if he had not seen the look on your face yet.

“Please, don't,” you managed to say, breathlessly. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt tired. Exhausted, even. You desperately tried to stop it before it was too late.

But you failed.

The weight in your chest became heavier, almost unbearable. Your lower lip was shaking, your legs trembling. You were heartbroken because you knew what you would have to do. Shaking your head, you refused to let him speak, both of you interrupted your words as a desperate attempt to silence each other.

“You need to hear me-”

“-stop this, Aegon-”

“-there’s no use to keep hiding it-”

“-don’t do this-”

“-you know what I'm about to say-”

“-Aegon, please-”

“-I love you.”

The heat of the burning sun was not enough to vanish the coldness that suddenly grew between you two. You closed your eyes, defeated. The silence became painfully awkward, and in that moment Aegon knew the truth.

His heart shattered.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes; they were covered by a layer of tears that were reluctant to escape. He was trying so hard not to fall apart, almost shaking as he stood as stiff as a rock.

“I love you,” he repeated in a whisper, thinking you might have not heard it the first time. “Please… please say it back.”

“Aegon-”

“Please,” he pleaded. His voice was broken and weak, trembling as he choked on a sob. “Please, say it.”

“You cannot do this to me-”

“I have loved you since the first day,” he confessed. “I’ve been trying to deny my feelings, trying to convince myself that it was nothing more, but it is. I need you, I love you more than words could tell, and my heart cannot bear another day without you being mine.”

“Aegon, I don't- I can't-”

“I want you to be my queen, my life companion,” he continued, watching you as you kept shaking your head. “My love, I want everything with you. I want to rule this fucking kingdom with you by my side. Please…”

“Aegon, I'm not fit to rule-”

“Me neither, but we can be a great team, I- I know that-”

“I can't be a queen, I can't marry you,” you interrupted him, trying to make understand your point.

You hated the prohibitions of a title. You see how Aegon was trapped in an invisible cage without escape, and you did not want that for yourself. You wanted freedom, you wanted to travel, to cross the Narrow Sea and meet foreign lands. As a queen, you would be caged; and as a wife to a king, you would be forced to provide him with heirs you do not wish to have yet.

It was selfish, you thought, but it was the thing that would make you happy.

“Aegon, this would never work,” she murmured as she grabbed his hands. He took a sharp breath when he felt your touch. “We're too different, we do not wish for the same things.”

“I know you love me too…. I know you do,” he told you. Some part of himself knew that it was a desperate attempt to try and convince himself that his words were true. But, deep inside, he knew it was not the case; one single glance at you would tell him what he's too afraid to accept.

“You are my best friend, you are the person that I trust the most, you-”

“Because you love me!” he raised his voice.

“I don't, Aegon…” you stopped him before he could say more. His nostrils twitched once he felt the itch on his nose, his lips trembling. “I don't love you like that.”

There was another silence. It was torturous. Aegon pulled his hands away from you. You quickly wiped the rebel tear that fell down your cheek.

“I know you think I'm the one, but I'm not. We would never work, this would only make you miserable-”

“You're the one for me,” he murmured, his eyes lost in the ground.

“I'm not,” you said, trying to reach him, but he just took another step back. “You'll find someone who will love you, who truly deserves you-”

“Am I not worthy of your love?” He suddenly asked, your heart aching at his broken voice.

Gods, you were about to explode.

“You're much more than what I truly deserve, Aegon, you're way better than-”

“I want you, I don't want another. I love you, I could never love anyone else the way I love you!”

“But you will!” you raised your voice to match his. “You will love someone else, and you will forget about me.”

“I can't ever forget about you,” he muttered. He remained quiet for a while before he looked down at you, noticing your teary eyes; a part of him hated himself for making you cry. After a few seconds he said, “I figured you would love me too… After everything we've lived and felt together. I thought we were gonna be happy-”

“You will be happy, Aegon. You'll find a fine young maiden who will give your life a purpose, but that is not me. It cannot be me.”

“You were my purpose,” he murmured, his face covered in tears as his puppy eyes would not look at you.

He felt embarrassed for how broken he was. For how naive he had been to even dare to believe you could possibly love him back. He wondered how he could be so foolish.

“I wish I could be the woman you want, I wish I didn't have to say these things- Aegon!”

He walked away, not wanting to hear any other of your excuses. It hurted enough as it is, your words would only wound him even more.

You tried to stop him, to grab his arm, yelling his name, and try to make him understand you, but he just walked away leaving his footprint on the wet sand as you stood there.

Tears were streaming down your face as you watched him go, one of your hands pressed against your chest as if you were trying to take the pain away. It hurted you to see him so broken, especially when you know it was you the one who caused it.

You had just lost your best friend, and there was no returning point from that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤfollow @by-fairysluna for more updates!

[bestworstcase]

penny was the winter maiden for two days.

ozma has been reincarnating for centuries, if not thousands of years.

assuming that the maiden cycle depends on the exact same metaphysical process (which is in itself textually uncertain, given that the maidens are non-conscious entities said to separate from the host’s aura at death and cleave to another whereas ozma’s reincarnation works by combination of his aura with another—as described, these are explicitly different mechanisms, and because the different outcome of the two cycles (one overwrites the host, one doesn’t) are explained by this difference in mechanism, i see no real reason to question the overtly-stated differences in what is happening when a maiden finds a new host vs when ozma is bound to one), the notion that penny could have—in two days—achieved some mastery over the reincarnation process that has eluded ozma for, again, thousands of years, is… nonsense?

it’s the most grasping-at-straws out of a lot of very straw-grasping penny 3.0 theories and the premise is, more or less, “ozma has been needlessly murdering his hosts for thousands of years because he’s too stupid to realize that he doesn’t have to do that.”

when like. ok. listen to me.

in the lost fable, ozma takes control within seconds of landing in the new guy’s head. he’s not able to answer the question “what’s your name,” because he doesn’t know. jinn talks about ozma traveling for years before seeking out salem. he’s with her for years; they found a kingdom and have children. through all of this time, there is nothing to suggest that ozma has another presence in his head—until his reflection speaks to him, and he physically recoils in pure shock.

i think, when this began, there was no “merge.” ozma just landed in someone’s head and erased them, almost completely, right away.

in v8, oscar says he doesn’t like using magic because it makes the “merge” happen faster, and oz answers “i don’t blame you.”

many lifetimes ago, ozma either divided his magic or carved the divine blessings out of his soul and gave them to four young women who had helped him. the maidens persist as non-conscious entities who confer magical powers upon their host without, in any way, corrupting or taking over the host consciousness. meanwhile oscar is still holding on—by his fingernails, perhaps, but he’s still alive and himself—and he feels that using magic erodes him faster.

do the math.

at some point, ozma worked out that the divine magic he carried was killing his hosts, leaving behind just a reflection that monitored him to keep him in line. so he tried to get rid of it, by giving portions of that magic away, and it worked, even if not to the extent he might have hoped. the maidens are ozma’s best effort at sparing the lives of his hosts.

(reading between the lines of how oz phrases it to the kids—“i reincarnate, but my memories stay with me”—in combination with his obvious projection of his own suicidality onto salem? i’d bet that ozma was hoping to destroy his own consciousness when he did this, too, so that his future hosts would receive his remaining powers and inherit the task but not him.)

it’s a mistake to look at the resigned acceptance ozpin has now and assume that it’s representative of how ozma has always felt about his curse; the whole point of him as a character is that he’s been ground down and slowly corrupted in the gristmill of this curse over thousands of years.

and it’s also, frankly, a mistake to take penny clocking blake as a faunus because she saw blake’s ears through the bow in infrared or penny figuring out that ruby can carry people with her semblance after 1. ruby flew with penny in volume two and 2. several months of ruby demonstrating abilities in training that she’s been doing since v4 without consciously registering that she’s doing them, like splitting to go around obstacles, to mean that penny is uniquely insightful or good at “figuring things out” in general. she has superhuman sensory capabilities (infrared vision, aura-scanning) that give her an advantage in perception of certain situations, and she’s fairly book-smart.

that doesn’t make her capable of solving ozma’s Divine Curse after sitting with the maiden powers for Two Days in a war zone. lmfao

[the-wayward-arc]

What about the maiden powers and the relics?

Maybe the relics could be trapped benevolent warp identities.

Jinn could be “interested” in magnus

The relics were taken off world;

The relic of knowledge was gifted to Magnus by Jaune since something like that would benefit him.

The relic of creation was left alone due to the fact that its the only thing keeping Atlas up, Atlas however is no longer a place to live but a place of forges used by the Remnant Knights, Salamanders and Iron Warriors that siphon off the power of the relic to create amazing things.

The relic of choice was taken secretly by the Alpha Legion under the guise of a meeting between the Primarchs Magnus, Alpharius Omegon and Jaune. Why it was done and why so secretly is only known to those Primarchs.

The Relic of destruction was supposed to go to Horus as a gift but the events of the heresy however made Jaune realize it was needed on Remnant incase of an invasion.

The four maidens were located, all of them and due to their extraordinary power, they are still kept secret. But they can live in peace instead of constant traveling/fear of their lives. Jaune keeps close observation on them and protects them but they are told if Remnant is in need of their aid, they will answer and they will fight.

[didyoutrydynamite]

So what even is “Renegade Au?”

So people have been wondering what exactly the Renegade Au is, the very short of it is basically “What if Jaune and Cinder bonded during Beacon?” With the exception of a few character changes, the Renegade Au follows closely to the canon story line up until after the Batlle of Haven. (Had to dial Adam WAY back from his original canon writing in order for him to work in this lol In Renegades he’s less of a psychotic abusive ex boyfriend and more like the love child of Prince Zuko and Kevin Eleven.)

This Au was something I used to think about all the time back in the day when Volume Six was just coming out, but I didn’t have the skills or time to write about it. I eventually put it to the back of my mind and eventually was inspired to write JNRZ Au!

The Renegade Au is mentally stored away in eight different parts, and the posts I’ve recently been making with Jaune, Cinder, Adam, and Neo, this takes place in Part 4 smack dab in the middle of the whole story. Now, these are going to be massively edited summaries of the first four parts of the Au, and will be missing a whole lot of certain nuances and important moments, but pretty much give gist of what led up to the formation of the Renegades.

Part 1: Beacon. Jaune and Cinder meet and essentially become friends during the Vytal Festival event of Volume 2 and 3. They have friendly banter, assist each other with training and advice, and even go on a couple of “sort of dates”. Cinder, knowing how this is going to end, makes it clear to Jaune that she's not interested in anything serious. Despite this, they continue to spend time together and almost become intimate at one point. In contrast to the typical Knightfall Beacon narrative, Cinder STILL goes through with the plan, almost blowing it by giving Jaune the “Don’t come to school tomorrow”. The Fall of Beacon still takes place, Pyrrha dies, and Cinder gets annihilated by Ruby's Silver Eyes. The only real major difference is that Jaune is forced to kill Penny on national television instead of Pyrrha. (Does that mean I kinda called it several years in advance???)

Part 2: Wanderers. In this section, the events of Volume 4 and 5 are closely followed as Team RNJR journeys through Mistral while Salem's gang continues their usual schemes. The main focus of this part, however, is on how Jaune and Cinder are coping with the aftermath of the Beacon incident. While Cinder recovers from the effects of the Silver Eyes and trains to master her Maiden powers, she finds that her success is a hollow victory that leaves her with conflicting emotions and a frightening realization that she may never be truly satisfied. On the other hand, Jaune is fixated on the idea of killing Cinder, having honed his Aura-enhancing techniques to the point where he can now start pulling off superhuman strength feats. The story reaches a climax in Part 2 with the Battle of Haven, where Jaune and Cinder engage in a 1v1 fight that tears up an entire wing of the school. Despite ultimately overpowering Jaune, Cinder spares his life, and goes down to the vault to get owned by Raven.

Part 3: Reconciliation. begins right after the Battle of Haven and continues into Volume 6, with a dying Cinder contacting Jaune on his scroll, which she remembers from their time at Beacon. Instead of seeking revenge, Jaune finds Cinder by the riverbed and uses his newly discovered Semblance to heal her. Despite still harboring hatred towards Cinder, Jaune realizes that he felt emptier when he thought she was gone, so he can't bring himself to kill her even when she's at her most vulnerable. In return for saving her life, Cinder offers to help Jaune in any way she can. They make a deal that Cinder will help Jaune find Pyrrha's parents so that he can properly pay his respects and grieve for her passing. Together, they embark on a journey across Mistral, overcoming obstacles and emotional barriers, and having plenty of screaming, crying, and heart-to-heart conversations. Eventually, they find Pyrrha's parents at the southernmost point of Mistral (Instead of Argus this time), where Cinder shares Pyrrha's last words and her own regrets, stopping short of confessing to murdering her. From this moment here, Jaune and Cinder have pretty much given closure to their shared past and have essentially started back at square one.

Part 4: Renegades. This part of the story takes place in Volume 7, specifically during the four or five months skipped over in the original show before Salem's attack on Atlas. It begins with Jaune and Cinder dining in a dive bar for thugs and rogues when news of a record-breaking bounty on their heads, placed upon them by Clay Forester, a creepy and mysterious Grimm Poacher they met and fought during part, who also has a strange fixation on Cinder.bThe entire block erupts into chaos as bounty hunters, criminals, Jaune and Cinder, along with the unexpected aid of Adam Taurus (There to join up with Cinder) and Neo Politan (Originally there to kill Cinder, they cool now though), fight for survival. After the battle, Neo and Adam express their desire for revenge against Team RWBY. Jaune, having just gone on a journey of forgiveness with Cinder, invites them to join him in forming a new team called The Renegades. Despite Cinder's reluctance, they set out on a journey across Mistral, taking jobs for money and supplies while fighting off every bounty hunter, bandit, and monster that stands in their way on their way to Atlas.

Again, this the TL:DR of what’s happened so far in Renegades Au in terms of the posts I’ve shown so far, so there’s a TON of intricate details missing. When I open Asks back up after this Weekend you are all more than welcome to ask me anything you want about this Au.

[invested-in-your-future]

It just struck me...

The showrunners have a REALLY big issue with not comprehending the difference between mythology/folklore in the setting and factual historical information.

I remember when Four Maidens story hit in V3 and people were speculating what it truly means and what the maidens truly are, searching for clues, not realizing that what the show just said is literally what happened and Ozpin really just magic'd bunch of superpowers somehow.

The show wasn't presenting a clue to deeper understanding of Ozpin's motives or the powers and secrets of this world. The show wasn't setting up a lore clue hunt where it trusts the audience to pick apart the truth from the lies making them anticipate the big reveal. The show was just bluntly stating what happened and all of that "oh this is big secret because these powers go against thousands of years of religion and myth" was just silly window-dressing.

Although its truly interesting how out of all the "tales" and "myths" told in the show the one that coincidentally deals with Christianity-like ideas is the only one that is basically 110% correct and the show goes to great lengths to state that to the audience?

Maidens: "Oh well you see, while legend is exactly true and Ozpin did hand out bunch of powers to random people for no reason, they are actually glorified vault keys"

Faunus God: "Achshually likely never happened and this is just late-addition to other the faunus more and to add religious undertones to WF. The myth literally comes with "This is likely fake" spelled out on a giant anvil at the end of it in the form of a character literally telling you its fake, which is why we know its fake."

Relics and the dumb two gods plot: "No you see this happened EXACTLY the way its told, all the legend bits other characters said are 110% correct and slot into this, all the characters mentioned in it are EXACTLY as they were said to be and here's an episode long flashback that is 100% FACTUALLY TRUE because I am a plot mcguffin designed to be incapable of lies. There's absolutely ZERO other possible interpretations for this myth. There's zero misunderstandings, zero information manipulation, zero of different characters interpreting it differently."

Remnant's mythology and folklore just...has absolutely zero depth or thought behind it and is just used as a blunt way to deliver exposition.

Part of the fun with having tales and myths is that they can be ambiguous and mean different things to different characters and are basically a way to add some color to the culture and history of the world. Stripping all of that and just turning it into 110% correct and clearcut exposition is just...dull.

[ficretus]

Theory: Speculating about Summer Maiden

So far Summer Maiden is the only Maiden we have no whereabouts of. Not even Vacuo novels provide anything about her or her Relic. I wanted to throw some thoughts around who I think will be Summer Maiden by the end of the Vacuo arc.

CURRENT SUMMER MAIDEN:

As I said, no idea. But let me get one thing out the way, I don't think Summer Rose is Summer Maiden or that she'll be at any point in the story. This might seem relatively weird considering so far characters with season in their name did eventually become Maiden of their respective season, but I don't think this is the case with Summer.

First of all, it would be bit random considering that power is tied to Vacuo and Summer herself doesn't have any Vacuo connections we know of. Second, it is somewhat implied that Summer is still alive, likely being Salem's Grimm experiment. If Summer was Summer Maiden and is under Salem's control, why would Salem bother with Cinder? Summer would be loyal subordinate that is second to none in combat. Why would you need to groom new subordinate of questionable loyalty and lesser combat ability? Third, in case she isn't Summer Maiden and is just one of Salem's thralls, I don't think she can inherit the power. Chronologically she'd be in late 30s or even 40s, making her too old to inherit the power.

For Summer to be Summer Maiden, it would mean she became one ages ago and isn't currently under Salem's control (because that kind of creates plot holes in Salem's plan). But I feel that both kind of damages her character (she becomes another Raven, abandoning her family for her own goals) and wastes implications Hound creates. I think her fate will be revealed during Vacuo arc, during summer portion of the story, if that makes sense.

I suspect we'll have another Amber or Fria situation with current Summer Maiden. As in, minimally established character that will give away their power to more important character narrative wise down the line.

GATHERING CLUES:

First place I looked into is The Four Maidens, in universe fairy tale about Maidens. For those uninitiated, it's a fairy tale about recluse Old Wizard being visited by girls representing Maidens. They visit him in sequence of Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, each teaching him valuable lesson.

Maiden lessons are key part to focus on here. While in the story, they are something Old Wizard has to learn, in RWBY it's something Maidens themselves have to learn.

For example, Winter appears in front of Old Wizard's house, sitting in state of absolute tranquility. Wizard sits down and copies her example thinking about his own strange predicament. This somewhat matches Winter, who in her own moment of clarity realizes Ironwood is lost cause and turns against him.

Other two examples are much clearer parallels. Spring shows up and plants flowers all over Old Wizard's yard, turning a pile of dirt into beautiful garden. This implies Spring Maiden is all about fostering life. This matches well as a lesson Raven needs to learn as a Spring Maiden, someone who both abandoned her family and used her protege as a decoy.

Fall Maiden urges Old Wizard to be thankful for what he has. This matches Cinder who needs to learn to be grateful for what she already has, instead of seeking out all other Maiden powers.

Summer Maiden convinces Old Wizard to step outside. Upon doing so, Old Wizard starts laughing at himself for even staying indoors all this time. So whoever becomes Summer Maiden needs to have a flaw that makes them distrustful of the world. Their character arc needs to be about opening themselves to the world.

______________________________________________________________

All three current Maidens also have personal connection to the members of Team RWBY. This is either set up for eventual transfer of power to respective members of Team RWBY or they simply exist as dark reflections of respective team members.

Raven is Yang's mother, Winter is Weiss' sister and Cinder is Ruby's nemesis. This mean, whoever will be Summer Maiden needs to have some kind of connection to Blake.

______________________________________________________________

Lastly, all three current Maidens were at some point of the story antagonists. Winter was an antagonist during the portion of Atlas arc as Ironwood's most loyal subordinate, Raven was antagonist throughout most of Mistral arc and Cinder is still major antagonist. So whoever becomes Summer Maiden had to have been antagonist at some point of the story.

CANDIDATES:

First candidate I have is Gillian Asturias, one of the main villains of Vacuo novels. She is leader of villainous Crown faction, who seek to restore Vacuoan monarchy with Gillian in charge. She believes she is descendant of legendary Vacuoan kings, albeit this claim is based on delusion her father convinced her of.

Why do I think she might become Summer Maiden? First of all, she is an antagonist. While at the end of the novel, she gets imprisoned... it's RWBY prison, nobody stays there. Her Semblance allows her to siphon Aura which theoretically means she could take the power all by herself (since all transfer methods we've seen so far were Aura based). She also has a motive to become a Maiden, what better way to show you are true heir to the throne then seizing divine power that allows you to control the elements.

She also fits with Summer Maiden lesson. She is extremely traditionalist, avoiding the use of both Dust and Scroll. Crown members are also xenophobic to some degree. Both of these traits make her good candidate for a lesson about opening yourself to the world.

Issue with her is that she has no connections to any member of Team RWBY. While it's not out the question they might eventually interact, I am doubtful writers will have her establish some really personal relationship with Blake. I think she might become Summer Maiden, but more of a interim Maiden like Penny was.

______________________________________________________________

My preferred choice so far is Ilia. She matches all the criteria I've set up earlier. First of all, she is a former antagonist. Second, she matches well with lesson of Summer Maiden. As an antagonist, she was member of more radical version of White Fang that was no longer about Faunus equality and more about their supremacy. This "us versus them" mentality symbolically parallels Old Wizard refusing to leave his house, closed off from everybody else.

Summer Maiden lesson can also be manifested in another way. If you think about it, it's almost inevitable White Fang will appear in Vacuo to assist the good guys. And who else will be there? Ace Ops. Ilia will be forced to work side by side with people who represent abuse she suffered as a child. This could create interesting dynamic of Ilia and White Fang refusing to cooperate with them, creating an issue for good guys cause (in fact you can have entire Volume 10 be about previously opposed sides coming to terms with each other for the greater good considering you'll have Ace Ops, Happy Huntresses, White Fang and potentially even Branwen tribe all working together). Her character arc would be about letting go of her hatred and trauma and opening herself to the world, fulfilling the Summer Maiden lesson.

Of course, Ilia is also personally connected to Blake. Yeah, she is "just" her friend, but when you think about it, that's the most personal relationship Blake has outside of her team. Unlike her other team members, she doesn't have a sister, her mother is too old to inherit the power and her nemesis was not only male... he is busy being dead. Ilia becoming a Maiden would also diversify the roster by giving us Faunus Maiden. After all, if all kingdoms are coming together why not also have that symbolically reflected in Maiden roster.

_____________________________________________________________

What are your thoughts? Do you have any other Maiden candidate you think is more likely? If you do, feel free to comment it.

[the-monkey-ruler]

How many kingdoms and realms exist in JTTW, could you give us a short explanation of these please? I understand there are like three realms according to Chinese mythology

How many kingdoms and realms exist in JTTW, could you give us a short explanation of these please?

There are many kingdoms that are visited in Xiyouji on their path, but I cannot say how many were during the Tang dynasty in general, you might wanna do some personal research for that case

The dragon prince was spared from death and banished to Yingchou Stream (鷹愁澗) in Shepan Mountain (蛇盤山), in the region that belongs to the Hamil Kingdom of the western barbarians.

Zhu Bajie found in Gao village and find that a daughter kidnapped in the the territory of the Kingdom of Qoco.

Yellow Robe Demon (黃袍怪) is based in Moon Waves Cave (波月洞) on Bowl Mountain (碗子山) in the Kingdom of Baoxiang (寶象國)

The Lion-Lynx Demon (獅猁怪) is actually the Azure Lion (青毛獅子), the steed of the bodhisattva Manjusri. He drowns the king of Wuji Kingdom (烏雞國) and took his position.

The Immortal of Tiger Power (虎力大仙), Immortal of Elk Power (鹿力大仙), and Immortal of Antelope Power (羊力大仙) are three demons who disguise themselves as Taoist magicians to deceive the ruler of the Kingdom of Chechi (車遲國).

The Ruler of Women's Country (女兒國國王) is the ruler of a nation in Xiliang (西梁) in Western Liang Kingdom with an all-female population in Women's Country (女兒國).

The Wansheng Dragon King (萬聖龍王) is based in Emerald Waves Lake (碧波潭), Rocky Mountain (亂石山), Kingdom of Jisai (祭賽國). He marries his daughter, Wansheng Princess, to the Nine-Headed Beast.

Sai Tai Sui (賽太歲; literally "Equivalent to Tai Sui") is a demon king based on Qilin Mountain (麒麟山) in the Kingdom of Zhuzi (朱紫國). He is actually the Golden Haired Hou (金毛犼), the steed of Guanyin.

The White Deer Spirit (白鹿精) is actually the mount of the deity Old Man of the South Pole (南極老人). He stole his master's staff and escaped into the human world. He accepts the White-Faced Vixen Spirit (白面狐狸精), a female Fox spirit, as an adopted-daughter, disguises her as a beautiful maiden, and presents her to the ruler of the Kingdom of Biqiu (比丘國).

The Ruler of the Kingdom of Miefa (滅法國; "Miefa" literally means "destroy dharma") hates Buddhists and once made an oath to slaughter 10,000 Buddhist monks. He realizes that he has done wrong in persecuting Buddhist monks so he repents and renames his domain "Kingdom of Qinfa" (欽法國; "Qinfa" literally means "respect for dharma").

The Grand Saint of Nine Spirits (九靈元聖) is actually the Nine-Headed Lion that Taiyi Jiuku Tianzun rides on. The lion seizes the opportunity to escape. He builds his base at the Jiuqu Panhuan Cave (九曲盤桓洞) at Bamboo Links Mountain (竹節山) near the Kingdom of Yuhua (玉華國).

The Jade Rabbit Spirit (玉兔精) is actually the moon rabbit that pounds a mortar and pestle in Guanghan Palace (廣寒宮) on the Moon. The fairy Su'e (素娥) once hit her and she bore a grudge against her. Su'e was later reincarnated as a princess of a Great Kingdom of India (天竺).

Su'e hid in the Monastery of the Anathapindika Garden in the Kingdom of Sravasti.

Honorary mention: Surya Kingdom is the place where the sun sets, and that's why its popular name is 'The Edge of Heaven.' During the time of late afternoon each day, the king will send people up to the battlements to beat the drums and blow the bugles, in order to dilute and weaken the sound of the sea boiling. (mentioned by Bajie)

Honorary mention: In years past, barbaric tribes of all four quarters came to pay us tribute: to the south, the Yuetuo Kingdom, to the north, the Qoco Kingdom; to the east, the State of Western Liang; and to the west, the Benbo Kingdom. (mention by Kingdom of Jisai).

Honorary mention: The state, Flowing Sand, was my ancestral home. My father was Flowing Sand Kingdom's king. Illness plagued me at the time of youth, A victim of a baleful natal star. (mentioned by Yellow Brows Demon).

Honorary mention: The spot releasing black vapors over there is the Lion-Camel Kingdom. (only called kingdom once by Sun Wukong).

Honorary mention: Master, my home is located in the Bimbana Kingdom, some two hundred miles from here. (mentioned by Lady Earth Flow.)

I understand there are like three realms according to Chinese mythology

There are three domains in the cosmos — Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld — and each domain is populated by a host of important gods and goddesses. The Heavenly Domain is ruled by the Jade Emperor, who presides over a court of important deities who are worshipped throughout China. Three Realms (三曹) – the belief that Heaven, the living and the deceased exist side by side; heaven is a place for saints or rested souls, the Underworld for the criminous deceased. Three wun seven pak (三魂七魄) explains a person's existence. The three realms is where a person exists, and the seven states are what makes a person exist.

Also suggest reading JTTW's article with just how Xioyuji uses these domains in regard to the 36 heavens and the 18 hells as well.

accompanied by my realms question, are the six realms something canon in JTTW or are the six realms something completely separate from JTTW and considered a different religion than the three realms mentioned in JTTW?

The Six Realms in Buddhist cosmology are the six worlds where sentient beings are reincarnated based on their karma, which is linked to their actions in previous lives. These paths are depicted in the Bhavacakra ("wheel of existence"). The six paths are

Hell (地獄道)

The Hungry Ghosts or pretas (餓鬼道)

The Beasts (畜生道)

Humans (人道)

The Titans or Asuras (修羅道)

Heaven, or the realm of the gods (天道).

Above these lie the four holy states: the Śrāvaka (声聞), the Pratyekabuddha (縁覚), the bodhisattva (菩薩) and finally completely enlightened Buddhahood.

We know that the wheel of reincarnation is very much real in Xiyouji and that the novel has Hindu and Buddhist mythology it wouldn't be out of the question that they have this specific cosmology, even if most of the time the novel is within more Easten heaven and dealing with Taoist gods.

There is a more modern take that is seen more fantasy novels where these 6 relams but that is far more used for the sake of fantasy where they are Gods (神界), Immortals (仙界), Spirits (妖界), Demon (魔界) Mortal (人界) and Ghosts 冥界(鬼界). Again this are more used for a fantasy setting in modern terms so this is a far more modern idea.

(heaven, mortal realm and diyu), like, the Demon realm and spirit realm are a thing in JTTW?

Demons and yao do not have their own realm. Demons are rather animals, plants, or other spirits that they to escape Hell (地獄道), The Hungry Ghosts or pretas (餓鬼道), or The Beasts (畜生道) and move on the human form. Or even celestials that abandon their posts and turn into demons as well. It is because they don't have their own realm that they are considered unnatural and going against the laws of nature.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

Five years ago the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

(Angst and fluff and smut)

Check it out on Ao3 from the beginning or jump into chapter twenty-four below!

Painful as it was, Isolde could tell that Astarion wanted to be alone. She wasn't sure that was a good idea right now, but told herself that she ought to afford him the opportunity to practice changing back without an audience. So far, he hadn’t been able to so much as reclaim his own fingernails. She couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have your body taken away from you like that. She wanted to comfort him, but Astarion, for the moment, seemed determined not to be comforted. She claimed that she needed rest, and went back to her own room, intending to make the lie a truth and try to nap. But she wasn’t remotely tired.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, pouring over the latest books that she’d borrowed from the palace collection. She should have picked up on the fact that Shadowheart was Sharran, she realized now, as she leafed through a copy of Selûne's Devotee. Like all Gur, Isolde had been raised to worship the Moon Maiden, but she was not a particularly good example of a Selûnite. She rarely prayed, and was guilty of ignoring the tenets of her goddess on many occasions, picking and choosing what felt important, rather than having faith in the strength of grander devotion.

All the same, it seemed she was enough of a Selûnite that Shadowheart may have felt some kind of draw to corrupt her. Looking back on their conversation, it was suddenly very easy to see how casually Shadowheart had steered her towards Shar, in spirit, if not in explicit words. 

Selûne's Devotee highlighted Selûne’s particular pity and condescension towards lycanthropes. It was something that Isolde always liked about the goddess. She left room in the framework of more rigid dogma for the possibility that some monsters weren’t monsters by their own choice, and could still be redeemed.

That nuance wasn’t so appreciated by all of her people, nor by all Selûnites, though she imagined that Selûnites with lycanthropy appreciated it a great deal.

That condescension didn’t extend to other monsters that Isolde knew of; not to cambions or vampires, certainly. Though, for a time, during his childhood, the analogy had given Vovka some much needed hope.

Or, perhaps it had only set him up for greater disappointment, as he eventually came to understand that only hell wanted anything to do with devils.

She closed the book, and turned to another about divination. The Everyday Practice of the Practical Seer.

For all her interest in magic, Isolde couldn’t cultivate a love for that branch of magical power most associated with her own people. Divination was simply not in her heart. She’d never had much of an interest, besides when Vovka disappeared and she tried a few pointless attempts at scrying to find him. And then again, when the rest of her family vanished from their encampment, she tried again.

She’d actually seen something that time. Nothing helpful. Nothing hopeful. Just a lake of blood, and she'd been overcome with a heavy scent. A mix of the choking smell of death, decay and more. Something else, something she couldn’t identify.

At that, she knew they were gone. So, perhaps she had successfully divined one real truth from the world.

It would certainly be useful to be a proper seer. A powerful one might even be able to tell Astarion when and how he might get his form back, or even, whether or not his admittedly somewhat ludacris plan to buy his way out of his pact was doomed to fail or not.

He’d indicated very firmly that it was not a plan, just a thought. But, of course, he had to say that, didn’t he? He couldn’t risk voicing any actual desire he might feel to be free of the pact outloud, not when he was already being punished for infringing on some portion of it, by accident.

And she did believe him, when he said that he didn’t know what he wanted. He wasn’t sure if shedding his power as the Ascendant would be a net positive, or not. Probably not, by the sound of things. At least as far as his everyday life went, it wouldn’t be a good thing for him. He’d have to avoid the sun. He’d never see his reflection again. He’d be hungry, all the time.

But what about the eventual fate that awaited him as the Ascendant? What did Mephistopheles want with a new monster anyway?

Nothing good. For anyone. Especially not for Astarion. Of that, they could be utterly certain.

With a sigh, Isolde realized that she’d been reading over the same passage about a half dozen times and still hadn’t absorbed a word of it.

Even those with a natural inclination and talent for divination, whether by disposition or genetic heritage, will often grow discouraged by the lack of results that are common with overuse and exhaustion of even a True Seer’s capabilities. The collective authors of this work all highly recommend the habit of revisiting successful visions, by journaling, and by repetition of scrying practices.

No, thank you. Isolde set her jaw. She did not want to see that lake of blood again, or smell the unmistakable slaughter of her people.

A shift in the far corner drew her eye upwards. Vovka. He’d appeared in the room, and she wondered how long he’d just been standing there watching her.

“You’re back!” She decided not to chastise him for the intrusion, though if this was a habit of his, she would eventually have to point out what a very bad habit it was.

He cocked his head at the book on the bed in front of her. “Do you scry much?”

“No talent for it,” Isolde shrugged. “You?”

He grimaced, flat white eyes reduced to smoking pinpoints. “Unfortunately, I have access to all kinds of trinkets that make it a bit too easy. I probably don’t have natural talent for it either, no hope of success without infernal aids. Helps to keep an eye on things though.”

“Like your warlock?”

“For example,” he nodded. “Though, she insists on maintaining certain boundaries. So, I try to only resort to that if it seems like she might be in some trouble.”

They were both quiet for a moment, the silence thick and uncomfortable between them. He’d probably come to see her first, given that it hadn’t been that long since he left in the first place. Or, maybe he was hiding out. As far as Isolde knew, the Duke still hadn’t called. All the same, Vovka was choosing to hide in Isolde’s room, with Isolde.

She endured a few more seconds of strangling silence and then blurted out, “Vovka. I’ve always hoped I would get the chance to tell you. I’m so sorry for how you were treated in our parent’s home. I’m sorry I didn’t stop it—that I didn’t try harder—”

But Vovka cut her off with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes, “You were a kid too, and honestly? I had a good childhood. Really great one, even. I didn’t appreciate it at the time.” His body language deflated a little. Despite the sincerity in his voice, she thought it must be a relief to hear her acknowledge the injustice, and her general passivity when faced with it.

“They kept you locked up, all the time.” She emphasized her point.

“Yeah,” Vovka shrugged, his wings bouncing a little behind him, “But.” His face emptied and she watched him harden, deciding not to finish that thought. He cleared his throat and almost disguised his pivot to a different idea, “It wasn’t so bad.” And he paused just long enough that she thought she could see the shadow of what he was comparing it too in his heavy, sharpened features. It wasn’t much to say that their childhood home was better for him than hell, but she was afraid that this was the thought he refused to voice. Instead, he said, “after I ran off, I thought I couldn’t go back.”

She knew that feeling all too well.

He added, “I should have gone back. But, I didn’t, and it doesn’t matter now.”

“Why didn’t you?” But she thought she knew why. Probably very similar to the reasons that she didn’t go back.

“I thought I had made myself too much of a burden for them to ever let me back.” He shook his head. Momentarily, he leaned against the fireplace mantel on the far wall, but seemed to think better of it and pulled his weight back, with the decided look of someone who had accidentally broken fireplace mantels in the past. “I told myself that they didn't want me. So, I stole a nice thick cloak to cover the wings, and sort of slummed it for a bit. One night, it was raining and I broke into this place that I thought was deserted—turns out, the landlord lived across the street and noticed the busted lock. Sent the Fist in to arrest me. Luckily, I had just come back from a little light pickpocketing and was still disguised as a human.”

Lucky indeed. A human boy would be arrested. A cambion of any age would probably be killed on sight.

“They threw me in a cell. I knew I could get out, but not quietly. I couldn’t keep the disguise up much longer, and my cell was occupied already. Cute little tiefling girl, sobbing her eyes out because she’d been caught stealing and thought that her life was over. I convinced her to become my warlock.” He looked a little sad, for just a split second, then that smirk was back. “Turns out, grandad was right. Some things are innate. It was like I could smell how vulnerable she was. How desperate and frightened. It’s so easy to turn that into a desire for power. I didn’t know anything about being a warlock’s patron, but I knew it was something cambions did sometimes, and the rest was instinct. We made a deal, I touched her and it marked her, and we escaped together.” He flicked an errant coal back into the fireplace with the end of his tail. As he touched it, the coal sparked for just an instant before smoking and cooling to black again. “My plan was pretty dumb. I just figured I could go home with her and her parents would have to take care of me too. Since she was my warlock. They wouldn’t have a choice. I barely hit the street when I realized that I could feel something… a kind of tether, in the power that I’d used—that I’d lent to my warlock.” The way he talked about her felt singular, and Isolde wondered if it was the same warlock he’d checked in with earlier that day. Did he just have the one?

“It wasn’t even my power. Did you know that’s how it works? I don’t really have my own power, I just draw from my infernal line. My… mother felt it. She knew where I was. So, she came and got me. Took me right to hell. The rest is history.”

Isolde listened, heartbroken all over again for how she’d failed to find him. She knew that what she should do is simply feel the sorrow and move on, but she couldn’t help but speculate about those first few days. She’d been in the city looking for him, but hadn’t found him. What if she had? What if things could have been different? What if they had the chance to help each other?

Vovka looked a little embarrassed. Perhaps he thought he’d talked too much. With an awkward shuffle he shifted the subject again. “My timing is bad. Duke Wyllyam Ravenguard is here. Right now.”

Isolde froze at that. She rather wanted to catch a glimpse of him, at least, if she could.

“You should go find them,” Vovka suppressed a grin, “and tell me all about him, I’m dead curious.”

“Right.” That was her excuse then. “You hide here.”

“Will do.”

She wasn’t exactly intending to eavesdrop, but she did soften her approach, to whatever extent that would be effective. Astarion might easily smell her or hear her heartbeat even if she did lighten her footfalls to a muffle and stop breathing. There was already someone being very silent in the hallway outside of Astarion’s office. Isolde came to a halt as she recognized the image of the gith child.

But it was just an image. Alice had informed her earlier that the matter with Astarion’s unlikely ward had been resolved. The child was rescued, back with his own people and far away from where Sharrans or Thayans might find him.

But in his place, Leon had burned an afterimage, a powerful spell of illusion that would roam the castle like a silent ghost, fooling anyone who saw him—at least for a little while. The image was much more than a ghost and Isolde found herself a little cowed by it. It looked so real. The only thing that gave away the gith child as a magical contrivance, rather than a real being, was the eerie silence with which it greeted her. Even the shuffling of its feet against the crimson carpet didn’t make a sound. The image of the gith child regarded her, then bolted away at a chase—exactly as it was meant to.

As the breeze of the spell passed by her, Isolde felt a familiar weight. Long after all trace of the spell had disappeared into the corridors at her back, Isodle stood very still in the hallway, a growing sense of needing to hold herself upright and all together.

What was she doing here, really?

Astarion didn’t want her here—granted he didn’t want anyone around, at the moment, but all the same, she wasn’t one of his servants, or friends, or long-time allies. She wasn’t a cambion charged to keep an eye on him. She was essentially just some girl he’d seen around at a couple of revels and finally bedded. 

And though, earlier, she’d automatically made the argument that her involvement was noted by the hells themselves and couldn’t just be brushed aside now, and though she knew she’d be in danger anywhere she went, so she might as well be in danger in the company of someone with aligned interests, who could potentially help her… she wasn’t so sure that was a good argument any longer. Why did she really care? When their combined power (hers being a negligible contribution) was so disproportionate to a literal devil, to Mephistopheles himself, it probably didn’t make a difference whether she ran or stayed put.

Vovka was here. But. He was so different. She’d lost him so long ago, and that brother had never come back. She didn’t know this stranger.

What if her days here were just to stand witness to Astarion’s self destruction, and then likely her own, as a direct consequence of staying?

It had been foolish to build the vampire lord up in her mind as someone powerful who could protect her. The thought was nice, but if she was honest with herself, she probably wouldn’t have actually liked a creature like that. Part of what made Astarion good company was that he could relate to her darkness and her suffering. It was so common that generally pleasant people would sharply go from being charming company, to the very worst sort, once they were faced with something unpleasant that they didn’t know how to handle. Astarion, while he was certainly capable of courtly civility, was not what anyone would describe as ‘generally pleasant’ in even casual acquaintance. He was quite used to bad times, to the point that he anticipated them. And acerbically accepted them when they always arrived. She smiled to herself, finally, feeling a slight lift in her mood. He was ornery and quick to deflect his feelings with humor regardless of whether he was having a good day or not. Even at his very lowest, he was managing. It wasn’t his first bad turn, and he’d clearly been victorious in the past.

She just wished he’d be more open to accepting help. Whatever small help she could offer.

And it was this thought that pulled her all the way up from the strange, heady slump that had taken a hold of her.

Confused, for a moment, she remained in the hall, vaguely aware of a sense of having lost time in the midst of her musings. Maybe only a few minutes, but it felt like someone might have used a modify memory spell on her. From inside the office, she could clearly hear two voices. It couldn’t have been that long then. But still, she felt so strange, suddenly, that it gave her pause.

She stayed put for a long stretch of moments, assessing her body, and her mind and trying to determine what might have happened to her. She knew this feeling. She knew this strange scent and the uneasy ring in her ear, but whenever she tried to trace it back in her memories, she only found herself descending into a heady, wandering dive into nothingness.

[bestworstcase]

doesn't salem still have ancient magic? the magic she used to torture oscar looked just like the old stuff she had when we first saw her in the lost fable.

strictly speaking:

no it looks very different now. but i’m dubious as to whether the V6 vs V8 magic fx is really meaningful because oz/oscar also have the new fx in V8 (albeit still green rather than salem’s multicolor). it strikes me as a stylistic rather than narrative change.

that said,

salem has magic.

that is not necessarily the same as salem still having the god-given magic ancient humans were blessed with; the pools of life and grimm were wellsprings of divine power and both of them changed her quite profoundly. the maidens are living proof that humans can wield magic without the divine gifts under certain anomalous circumstances.

(“anomalous” here meaning “not intended or foreseen by the brothers,” a category which certainly includes salem remaking herself in the pool of grimm.)

it’s also a fact that salem was empowered by her transformations in both pools; one made her immortal, the other made her grimm, she’s inarguably walking around with quite a lot of magic that ancient humans did not have. the sigil she uses to spawn her shadow hands is a grimm thing—the geist in V4 uses the same one to regenerate its own arm. in V8 she cracks solitas in half to draw up a river of grimm liquid overnight with zero apparent effort. during her assault on atlas she spawns wave after wave of grimm, hundreds at a time, seconds apart, for hours without slowing down. she designed a bespoke teleconferencing grimm that is also a security alarm system and which she can use in a pinch to create sendings of herself.

the lady usurped a god.

so the question is: does she still have the divine gifts that gave ancient humans their magic, or is all of the magic she wields now sourced from the pools?

magic is magic is magic—the practical difference between dust-magic and maiden-magic is scale and the line between aura, dust, semblance, and magic is often somewhat blurry (and of course cinder, salem’s protégée, uses her magic seamlessly as an extension of her semblance).

but not all magic is the same magic—the source is meaningful both functionally and narratively.

here i have to put on my contrarian cap and add that the widespread idea that salem holds modern humans in disdain and considers them to be not really human because they lack magic is, er, not particularly well supported by the text. and by that i mean salem explicitly regards modern humans as strong, brave, resourceful, passionate, and ingenious; derides ozpin’s self-defeating secrecy and refusal to trust (“your faith in mankind was not misplaced; when banded together, unified by a common enemy, they are a noticeable threat” <- she is mocking him for not doing that); and spends like four volumes all but begging cinder to stop obsessing over raw power. and she, explicitly, believes that humans are better off without the “old gods.”

this is a woman who fomented a rebellion against the brothers because she realized they were tyrannical monsters; the notion that she judges human worth solely on the basis of divine blessing is flatly absurd.

the point being that narratively, thematically, salem’s magic not being sourced from the brothers fits her character like a glove. that is what her rebellion was about.

and this is where i think the magic fx may actually be meaningful: at the beginning of TLF, when jinn sets the scene (“she lived in a time when kings and their kingdoms were plentiful, when men and women were capable of greatness, and magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield.”), we see salem do this:

six small lights, four large orbs. later in the episode, the black-violet and white-gold orbs reappear as representations of the brother gods; thus destruction/creation, which perhaps makes the green and orange orbs representations of knowledge and choice.

which is to say, i think those four larger orbs represent the divine gifts. that’s where her magic comes from.

then, near the end of the episode, the eldest daughter does this:

the six smaller lights are the same, but she doesn’t have the four larger orbs. jinn describes it as a miracle (<- implying ozlem had serious reason to think their children WOULDN’T inherit magic), salem is surprised but pleased, and ozma is horrified.

this section of TLF is, fundamentally, about the unreconcilable difference between salem’s view of the gods as monstrous tyrants and ozma’s unbroken faith in the god of light. look at the way his expression changes between “[we can] create the paradise” and “the old gods could not”:

the instant salem makes it clear that she’s envisioning a world without the brothers as “paradise,” he recoils. later his objection to their war of conquest is not “this is wrong,” but rather “this isn’t what he asked of me.” their disagreement isn’t moral; it’s religious.

so why—in the moment when ozma at last reveals his religious motivations to her—does ozma react like this to the sight of his daughter’s magic?

and why was it miraculous for a child of two magical parents, both of them hailing from a time when everyone could do magic, to be capable of magic herself?

the answer that makes the most sense to me, for both questions, is that the brothers stripped salem of their blessings—took her magic away—and then she effectively stole it back when she remade herself in the pool of grimm. salem’s magic would thus be more akin to modern human semblances than to ancient magic by virtue of not being a god-given gift; that’s a plausible reason for ozlem to believe their children wouldn’t or couldn’t inherit any magic, and naturally ozma would be disturbed by the revelation that what salem wants—a world where the brothers are not merely absent but actively unwanted and unneeded—is truly possible.

[srovtl]

A Melody Of Serata On A Night Of Requiems Chapter 4

Faust: Yeah. First, I want all the gloves gathered in one place. Lennox, Cain, Arthur. I want you three who can move quickly to pull the gloves towards you.

Faust: Bradley, use magic to repel the gloves you've gathered. Can you hold out on the magic power so they don't fly away?

Bradley: ……Hmph. Who the hell do you think I am? Instead, make sure to tell the twins about this, got it?

Faust: Then it's settled. The others will join me in putting up a barrier to protect the village.

Everyone nods at Faust's instructions and prepares themselves. Arthur and the others exchange words while avoiding the gloves that are clinging to them.

Arthur: I saw Rustica holding their hand earlier... Surprisingly, these gloves don't seem to mind being escorted.

Lennox: They did seem a little shy, but they didn't run away.

Cain: When I think about it like that, they start to look kind of adorable. Let's ask them to dance, too.

Cain and Arthur nodded to each other and each reached out their hand to the gloves.

Cain: Hey, it's a bit cold for the gloves to dance by yourselves. Why don't you dance with us?

Arthur: Come on, come over here! We've got plenty of time to dance until dawn.

Lennox: ......I see. Then I'll dance too...

Lennox: May I have your hand?

The white gloves dance gracefully.

At their invitation, the gloves stop moving. And the next moment, they all gather around the three of them.

Akira: Wow, what a force...!

Bradley: 《Adnopotensum》

Before Arthur and the others could be crushed, Bradley's magic blasted the gloves away, sending them flying into the sky.

Bradley: That's payback for pranking me. No more dancing.

Faust: Okay... Now. 《Satillquinart Mullcreed》

Rustica: 《Amorest Viesse》

Rutile: 《Ortonik Setomaouge》

Riquet: 《Sanretea Edif》

The four wizards immediately chanted a spell, and a dazzling light appeared above their heads.

The light quickly spread in all directions, enveloping the entire small village in a glowing hemisphere.

Riquet: We did it...!

Akira: That was a wonderful teamwork! Now the villagers can sleep peacefully tonight.

Riquet and I looked at Faust with relief. Faust looked up at the sky where the gloves had been blown away and said.

Faust: That's true... but we only drove them away temporarily.

Faust: I have a plan. We'll discuss it with the villagers again tomorrow.

Brown-haired man: so It wasn't hands that were wandering around, but gloves...?

Faust: Yes. white gloves were wandering around the village dancing.

Faust: It was a strange sight, but I didn't sense any curse or malice. It felt like it was playing with us.

When dawn broke, we told the gathered villagers what had happened last night.

Brown-haired man: I can't believe... So they were gloves. They were shaped like hands, so I thought they were... No, I'm embarrassed that I misunderstood.

Cain: Even a scarecrow can look like a monster in the dark. It's easy to mistake a hand for a glove.

Lennox: The fact that countless gloves are flying through the air every night is surely a strange phenomenon.

But even though the villagers realized that the creeping hands were gloves, the worried expressions on their faces didn't change.

Soon, some of them huddled together,

and began to talk in a hushed voice, sounding confused.

Brown-haired man: But gloves... Could it be because of that custom?

Curly-haired old woman: You mean the practice of offering gloves at graves? It's been going on since the daughter of the house at the top of the hill died about forty years ago...

Faust: So you have an idea where it came from?

Brown-haired man: Yes... Apparently, long ago, this village had a maiden who died at a young age. In memory of her, we offer gloves every year on the anniversary of her death.

Curly-haired old woman: The girl was the most beautiful girl in the village, and she was also very kind. She could be a bit mischievous, but that was also what made her so cute and good-natured.

White-haired old man: And so, word spread that she was an extremely adorable child, even to the landowners far away.

White-haired old man: One day, she was invited to be a noble`s partner in high society, and even that was amazing, but she was chosen as his bride.

Curly-haired old woman: The whole village was shocked, saying that such a dream could exist.

Bradley: Really? If it's true, that's a hell of marrying up.

Rustica: He fell in love with a girl who grew up in a peaceful village far from the city, and set her on the path to becoming a noble lady…

Rustica: What a dramatic and thrilling story. Surely it must have been a life-changing encounter for both of them.

Faust: But... could something like that really happen? And the girl died young.

Curly-haired old woman: Yes... it must have been a few weeks after she told me with a happy look on her face that she'd been proposed to.

Curly-haired old woman: She was going to her engagement party, so she put on a tailored blue dress and fine white gloves, and rode in a carriage.

Curly-haired old woman: But the carriage had an accident... You see, I told you that there was a trail leading to a cliff if you went to the right after leaving the village.

Curly-Haired Old woman: She was found dead at the bottom of that cliff.

Rutile: Oh no...

Rutile's gentle eyes squeeze shut as he places his hand over his mouth.

Rutile: I can't believe something so tragic happened. ...How painful it must have been for her and for everyone else.

Riquet: Yes... She could have ended up marrying that man, just like in a fairy tale.

Curly-haired old woman: Oh, thank you. For grieving like it was your own loss... I'm sure the girl would be happy.

Curly-haired old woman: But... the landowner didn't even show up to the girl's funeral.

Curly-haired old woman: He refused, said it was too painful to see his beloved in such misery, and that was the end of it.

Akira: He even proposed to her... What was the landowner like?

Curly-haired old woman: He lived far away, so we never saw him. After that, we never even heard from him again.

Curly-haired old woman: But even more than that, there were many strange things happening. It was raining like a storm that day, so maybe that's why we were late in finding her...

Curly-haired old woman: Weirdly enough, no matter how hard we looked, we couldn't find the gloves she was wearing.

Faust, Lennox: ……….

White-haired old man: After that, people said they saw the maiden's ghost in the village and near the cliffs.

White-haired old man: We all thought she was wandering around looking for her lost gloves to go to a party, so we started making offerings on the anniversary of her death.

White-haired old man: We haven't seen her since then... The gloves suddenly appeared around the time of the previous calamity. Maybe she hasn't been able to rest in peace yet.

Arthur: We don't know the truth... but from what I've heard so far, this maiden was very kind, and loved by everyone in the village.

Arthur: Would such a kind girl attack the village's livestock?

White-haired old man: Could it be that... the glove phenomenon and the thing attacking the livestock are caused by separate things?

Brown-haired man: Yes, I'm sure it is. Something else bad has come in.

Curly-haired old woman: You're right, there's no way she would do something like that.

The villagers nodded with serious expressions. Then Faust's calm voice rang out.

Faust: The last calamity was extremely abnormal and twisted, unlike anything we'd ever seen before. Because of that, it has caused damage in various ways all over the place.

Faust: No matter how good she was in life, it's possible that the power of the calamity is affecting her soul and thoughts that remain.

Bradley: It's not just a possibility, it's almost certain.

Lennox: Bradley...

Lennox gives Bradley a reproachful look as he talks matter-of-factly. But Bradley waves his hand and continues.

Bradley: What's the point of obscuring it? That moon has drawn out the girl's soul and made her do evil.

Bradley: Calamity sure has some bad taste.

The villagers were shaken by the sound of a rustling sound. Seeing this, the young wizards seemed convinced.

Though the circumstances may be different, the thoughts and souls of the dead are transformed by the effects of a calamity... We have encountered such incidents several times in the past.

They looked at each other with serious expressions.

Riquet: To distort such a good soul...? That maiden should rest in peace in a place that is appropriate to her deeds in life.

Rutile: If she is attacking her precious hometown unwillingly... That, that's too sad.

Cain: I wonder if there is any good way? A way to protect the villagers while also protecting her feelings...

Arthur: Let's all think of the best plan. The living and the dead are only separated by an insurmountable wall.

Arthur: Everyone on either side is a beloved neighbor. I want them both to live in peace at all times.

Faust listened quietly to the young wizards' conversation. Then, he softened his expression and lowered his eyes.

Faust: ...Then let us hold a night party.

Akira: A night party...?

Faust: Yes, it's a ritual called "Requiem Soiree" Unlike a funeral, it's held for the souls of the dead.

Faust: Souls are essentially invisible to the eye. That's why people fear that souls that can't be sent off at a funeral will wander around and turn into evil spirits.

Faust: To prevent that from happening, we hold ceremonies with a mourning heart.

Lennox: …………

dictionary - next chapter

[reynita9]

The year is 1912, The luxurious “Millionare’s Special” steam engine oceanliner RMS Titanic is about to embark on her maiden voyage. Aboard it are John Aster, Isador Strauss & Benjamin Guggenheim; three of the world’s wealthiest men, who are opposed to the creation of the federal reserve banking system and turning the USA into a corporation. JP Morgan Chase, the owner of the ship, coincidentally was not aboard. He’d intended to be, but cancelled just hours before it’s departure. Which is terrible considering he’d invested 7.5 million dollars into it (1911 7.5 million… according to an internet inflation calculator that is equivalent to $2,401,002,631.53 “two billion ,four hundred one million ,two thousand ,six hundred thirty one dollars and fifty three cents” in 2023!) Tragically amongst thousands of others Aster, Strauss, and Guggenheim perished at sea when The Titanic crashed at full speed into an established iceberg. So sad. But without them around to use their wealth and power in opposition of the creation of a Federal Reserve System, in 1913, a year later, it was signed into law.

It’s interesting that now in present time, 2023, Billionaires were adventuring to the bottom of the ocean sea-floor, for entertainment’s sake, to traverse the oceanic graveyard of Titanic Shipwreckage.. of course they died too, and with full time coverage. All of those of us who never even asked suddenly being non-consensually updated and roped in. I was at work today and people were like “Did you hear? They ran out of air.” I’m like who the fuck even are they? But still, it’s trippy. Especially after a year of many satirical eat-the-rich-laugh-at-them-suffering films topped charts. In these times laughing at kings fall is all we have, I get it. But it gets weirder, because the CEO of OceanGate Expositions was married to a woman named Wendy Rush, who’s the great-great-great granddaughter (by blood) of Isador Strauss (remember him? mentioned above ^) it’s crazy! How esoteric. But I don’t really even want the focus to be on waterlogged billionaires or the late Strauss Bloodline.. I want to go back to 2023 JP Morgan Chase.. the original man is dead but his namesake and legacy live on, leeching evil into the earth. I wonder why it doesn’t get more press when ten days ago JP Morgan Chase Bank agreed to pay $260 million dollars to victims of Jeffrey Epstein to settle their class action lawsuit around the bank associating with Epstein as he trafficked people and even after he was convicted of pedophilia. TODAY, the same fucking day that these random rich bros die 20,000 leagues under the sea. 6/22/2023, JP Morgan Chase (bank) is fined 4 Million dollars for permanently deleting 47 million emails. I wonder what future lawsuits they sunk by deleting that info. I wonder if this OceanGate Submarine story is real or an intentional distraction/ psyop. Idk I’ve been writing for 15 min n just got hit with so much sleepiness I’m going to be lazy and not actually conclude this at all. Banks own media Banks have bloodlust Banks know how much we love bread and circuses and it’s all smoke and mirrors. A Triangle Of Sadness that we can’t do anything about until we realize how disgustingly low they will sink to get what they want. Abolishing these unimaginably massive wealth and power inequities is the only path forward, but first we have to sit with the information we’re given, and discern and be open minded, be curious, hold massive possibilities with our mind’s eyes. not shut down, or deflect with laughter. Not be lead like a mouse to a trap. They invest trillions into keeping us busy/distracted/subdued/subservient and it doesn’t even matter because we mock and police each other and make jokes of curiosity. “Conspiracy Bullshit” / unconscious trust and devotion.

I’m not saying any of this applies to anything: I am sure it is all coincidental, this is just here to make u smile. A joke. Love u.

[superthatguy62]

Rant/Argument: Why Jack should not be THE Garland

Let me preface this by saying: I like Jack. I unfortunately have not played Stranger of Paradise myself as I lack the means to do so (None of the big consoles + My laptop can’t even run Dissidia NT or FFXIV. Given the horror stories I’ve heard of the PC port’s optimization, I’m not holding my breath), but I have seen playthroughs and have seen the story unfold. And Jack is a great guy, even once you get past the “I NEED TO KILL CHAOS” memes. Heck, especially after that.

But I have seen people treating Jack and Garland as the same guy and suggesting the latter is the will of the former made manifest due to Opera Omnia.

And that would be ruin Dissida Garland’s character if so.

And, instead of getting into an argument in Youtube comment sections and trying to ignore that the concepts of retcons are a thing, I’m going to summarize all three Garlands in order to argue that making Dissidia Garland an extension of Jack (rather than both being variants of the same guy) is a Bad Idea Actually meaning that SE is totally going to do it.

The nature of this essay means that it should go without saying, but spoilers for all three games: FF1, Dissidia (including Opera Omnia and everything in between) and Stranger of Paradise (including the DLCs)

Part 1: A Brief Summary of Garland

This is Garland.

Garland was once a knight of Cornelia and well beloved by all. However, his heart belonged to one person: Princess Sarah of Cornelia. However, Garland had unknowingly been corrupted in some fashion. When Sarah rejected the knight’s feelings, he snapped: He kidnapped the fair maiden, locked them both in the Chaos Shrine and killed anyone who tried to save her.

Eventually four travelers appear, each holding a crystal fragment with radiant light. The King, suspecting that the four are the Warriors of Light, tested them by tasking them with rescuing Sarah. The four entered the Chaos Shrine and fought Garland. Cornelia’s best wound up slain, liberating Sarah and ending his tale.

...At least, one would think.

Eventually, the Warriors of Light realized that the energy that the Four Fiends had siphoned from the crystal was converging upon the Chaos Shrine. Learning of a true villain who had fled through time, the Warriors of Light chased after, arriving at the Chaos Shrine 2000 years in the past. It is there that they defeat the fiends once more and confront the real villain: Garland.

Wait, what?!

Garland explains (and the ending elaborates):

As Garland lay dying in the Chaos Shrine, the four great powers (i.e. the crystals) sent Garland back in time. There, Garland would absorb their powers and send the Four Fiends forward in time who, in-turn will bring Garland back. Garland himself would reign as Chaos for a time, but eventually the power will leave him[1]. In effect, this creates a time loop that will allow Garland to live forever; Just ignore any silly questions or issues like “Doesn’t Garland only exist within the loop now?” and “That’s the most pointless form of immortality ever”.

At some point however, a freak miracle happens: The Warriors of Light manage to defeat Chaos in the past, one of two ways the cycle could be broken. As a result, the entire cycle collapses and is erased from existence. The game notes Garland is among the people waiting for the Warriors of Light in the new future and while it is ambiguous, one could draw the conclusion that the event that caused Garland to snap no longer occurred and he was back to the paragon that he once was.

[1]Some retellings embellish a few details (MoH makes the fiends natural creatures and gives the corrupted Garland an entitlement complex, Brave Exvius and few other sources imply that Garland’s rage gets stronger with each cycle, giving more of a end-goal).

Part 2: A Not-So-Brief Summary of Garland.

This is Garland.

Garland was pulled into the past by his own hand to continue the time loop that would result in him living forever. However, at some point during the 2000 year long wait, he is suddenly hit with a realization: This was a terrible idea. But alas, despite no desire to continue the plan, he knows that eventually his rage will get the best of him, he will make “an irreparable mistake” and that he is doomed to live out the Cycle once more, a thought that leaves even the mighty Garland afraid.

However, he finds that he has hit a snag: Rather than being in 2000 years into the past, he is actually in another dimension. More specifically, he is in World B, a parallel version of his world that was already in ruins. There he meets three people: Cid, a Lufenian scientist hired by 'the state’ to make a superweapon. Cosmos, a manikin of Cid’s wife created to control said superweapon after Cid and his wife refused to work with 'the state’ any further. And finally, the superweapon in question, a nameless manikin created by stuffing memories from 10+ people into one manikin, and has the innocence and disposition of a newborn child.

Intrigued by this creature which looks akin to the form he is fated to take, Garland bonds with the creature, later dubbing him Chaos. Shinryu, who entered this world prior to the others stumbling upon it, appears and soon a pact is made: Cosmos would become the Goddess of Harmony while Chaos would become the God of Discord and the two would use pawns created by Cid summon warriors to act as their pawns and wage war with each other. Each time one side won, Shinryu would purify those that fell (while also absorbing their memories to become stronger, unbeknownst to everyone else) and the battles would continue. With each cycle, Chaos would grow stronger in hopes of him becoming strong enough to return to World A, with Garland acting as his mentor and faithful servant out of sympathy.

However, it eventually became clear that that the cycles would not end any time soon. In fact, it became clearer and clearer that the cycles would never end. Realizing that he has effectively traded one cycle for another, Garland does the only thing he could do to cope with his fate: If he is to do endless battle, then he may as well savor it. Garland became (or at least, put on the appearance) of one obsessed with battle, all to mask his despair at being a slave to fate.

Of course, all of this is contrasted by the Warrior of Light. He is one of the Warriors destined to clash with Garland and while Garland himself is disillusioned at the possibility of breaking free of the Cycle due to having lived it for so long, the comparatively new Warrior of Light has faith that it will be broken. After being confronted by the Warriors of Cosmos for one final time, Garland reveals that Chaos intends to destroy both himself and the world. When asked if he is alright with this, Garland simply states that all he needs is to find another cycle and the soul of strife shall endure.

Eventually, Garland would be pulled into World B again, this time to fight on behalf of Spiritus, one of the two new gods of the newly rebooted World B. The new world ends up under the threat of Shinryu (Who’s still miffed that Cid went back on their deal and wants that sweet sweet energy) who ends up defeated. Garland leaves behind a copy of himself to act as one of Spiritus’ champions for the sake of rebuilding World B via battle energy and goes home.

This is also Garland.

(Well, so’s the guy above, but this makes for a better segue, so shush).

This Garland is (presumably, OO is kinda strange with this relation) the Garland that was created due to the events above. He hungers for battle and...

Look, I’ll break character and level with you here: Opera Omnia’s plotline is kinda spotty to me. I was on and off in Act 2 and by 3 I stopped caring for reasons that are obvious if you’re familiar with this blog’s wheelhouse. Not helping matters is that it’s unclear in and of itself how OO relates to NT, being more of an alternate continuity than a continuation. But I do know some of the things about it, especially as pertaining to the end of Act 2.

Things have gone bad and Shinryu is getting ready to snack on the World of Respite/Conflict/whatever the nature of the world kind of drifted the more its significance became stressed. The Warrior of Light leads the heroes into battle against the villains who are opposing them because of course they are. The last of these villains is Garland who, despite the world crumbling around him, still wants to battle. But don’t worry, Garland does want to preserve the world. After all, where else will he do battle?

Just as the original Garland is implied to have turned to battle to cope with his situation, this Garland turns to battle to cope with his existence, or rather his lackthereof. The Warrior of Light succeeded, meaning that Garland returned to being the honorable knight he once was... But this Garland is derived from the Chaos which no longer exists.

Eventually, the damage is done. The world begins to collapse. The Warrior of Light sends his newfound allies into the new world, choosing to remain with Garland. Then, to keep the world stable he and Garland clash for eternity until Act 3.

Some more Garland shenanigans happen in Act 3, but this section is long enough as is and I do not want to discuss Act 3 so just know that WoL and Garland have been slowly but surely being pushed as the new gods of Harmony and Discord respectively. 

But Garland’s not the only one in the running for that title...

Part 3: A Very Brief Summary of Chaos (?)

This is Chaos Advent, formerly known as Chaos (?).

Chaos Advent awaited the Warriors of Light in the Chaos Shrine. Based on Princess Sarah’s description of him, he appears to be Garland: The Knight of Cornelia who left to vanquish Chaos and not only never returned, but seemingly faded from the memory of all but Sarah. In truth, Garland had fallen to the darkness and now wishes to become Chaos.

Jack punches his face in and darkness fades away to reveal... a just-narrowly-not-a-teenage girl named Neon. 

Neon did not believe that Chaos existed and sought to give the people hope. Thus  she took the guise of Chaos to give the people a physical representation of Chaos to defeat, in hopes of inspiring hope.

But what of Garland? If “Chaos” wasn’t him, then who was he?

Well, to say his true identity would be a spoiler. If you are truly

It’s Garland.

Jack Garland.

Jack is Chaos.

Part 3.5: A Brief Summary of Jack

This is Jack Garland.

He wants to kill Chaos.

Jack Garland is one of the four Warriors of Light alongside his friends Ashe and Jed. Soon, two more followers join the Warriors of Light (3): a girl named Neon and a woman named Sophia. Together, the quartet (5) go to awaken the crystals with the help of the mysterious Astos, the king of Dark Elves. While awakening the crystals, however, they fight four monsters that are guarding them. These monsters turn into humans when they die and Jack’s allies begin regaining their memories... slowly revealing that they’ve done this before and they themselves are the monsters.

When the party returns to Cornelia, they find that they have not saved the world and, in fact, things are even worse as the crystals intensify their respective elements. They hunt down Astos who eventually reveals the truth behind the Stranger Project, with further pieces coming in as monsters attack Cornelia. Despite Jack and his allies’ efforts, the monsters kill the royal family, including Princess Sarah. It is at this point that Jack’s memory begins to return in full force and the full picture starts setting in.

Lufenia faced a problem: Cornelia’s darkness buildup was getting too intense. In just 2000 or so years, the buildup will reach critical mass and blow up the kingdom. It is at this point that a “mysterious collaborator” appears who gifts them a dimensional matrix crystal, allowing them to manipulate time and space. All the collaborator asks in return is that Lufenia pipelines the excess energy generated by the resets back to them. With their shiny new toy, Lufenia engages the Stranger Project: recruiting people from other worlds (?) to go around and maintain the balance between darkness and light.

Unfortunately, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and in this case, the road quickly became a highway..

Lufenia became arrogant with their newfound tech. Staging their own collapse, Lufenia moved to a pocket dimension where they could observe other worlds.  Out of the Cornelians’ reach, Lufenia began experimenting with the world, warping and mutating its inhabitants and changing regions to resemble those in the other dimensions they’ve been peeping at.

Fortunately for Cornelia, Jack Garland would not stand for this. Jack concocted a complex plan beginning by giving his Dark Crystal to Princess Sarah. As a result, his memories were totally buried. Then, Astos and his friends would push Jack and lead him down a path that resulted in him becoming Chaos.

And said plan concludes with the other Strangers attacking Jack, forcing him to kill them.

The plan works. Jack storms the Chaos Shrine, heads for Lufenia and absorbs their Darkness made Manifest. The Lufenians decide to cut their losses, sealing off the station connected to Jack’s world. And when Jack’s boss tells him to look out for the Warriors of Light, she gives Jack an idea...

At the Chaos Shrine, Jack and his friends/fiends hatch a new plan: Create their own Warriors of Light to act as a beacon of hope for Cornelia. And if they must die for Cornelia to no longer worry about Darkness, then so be it.

Meanwhile, Jack’s boss is pissed that Jack got one up on her. Initially, she lures Gilgamesh to Jack’s location before sending a Death Machine in hopes of killing him. When that fails, she sends Lufenia into chaos in order to claim two pieces of crystal ore: One that gives her power over the Interdimensional Rift and one that allows her to create manikins.

All of this catches the attention of a lone moogle. The moogle is not from Lufenia but World B a world of eternal conflict. But the world that the moogle hails from is reliant on the future of Jack’s world, and if Jack’s world gets erased, the Moogle’s will go with it. Thus, the Moogle brings Jack to Lufenia in order to stop Jack’s former boss Nil from preventing that future from coming to pass.

Of course, the moogle is no ordinary moogle: Said moogle is actually a manifestation of Cosmos’ will and is implied to have been active behind the scenes for quite a while. The Moogle’s endgoal  is to to push Jack into the role of the new God of Discord (whatever happened to Spiritus is left unsaid, assuming the moogle is even referring to a post-NT timeline).

Upon defeating Nil, one of two outcomes occurs.

In the first timeline, Nil drops the crystal, which Jack refuses to use. The moogle questions Jack in ways implying that it wants Jack to pick up the crystal, but Jack refuses. He and his allies go home and live out their roles of being defeated by the Warriors of Light.

However, in a Different Future (TM), The Emperor of Palamecia (who had previously appeared in Lufenia, having tailed the moogle) appears after Nil’s death and seizes the crystal. Jack naturally beats him up, but accidentally absorbs the crystal in the process. His future secured, the moogle informs Jack that now he must take his role as the God of Discord and that he, opposite and alongside the Warrior of Light as the God of Harmony, will be the foundation for a new world.

Part 5: Now that that’s all settled

What’s the problem with Jack and Dissidia Garland being the same individual?

Because it ruins both Dissidia Garland and Jack’s characters.

Dissidia Garland is a natural extension of FF1 Garland. Even in the original game, it’s said that Garland used to be a paragon of Cornelia until very recently. In some of his interactions, especially those with Chaos, you can kind of see it.

In the end, Garland is not just a villain, but he’s a man who’s trapped. Trapped in a destiny of his own making. He’s just as much a victim of his own scheme as anyone else: But the difference is that he himself created it.

As a certain well-known movie once put it:

It also adds to his relation to Chaos. Garland was reminded of himself when he met Chaos, which is why he becomes Chaos’ right-hand. If one takes supplementary material into account, then the spinoffs alluding to Garland’s rage getting stronger over the course of the cycles could relate to Chaos’ fate in Dissidia as well: Becoming more and more powerful with each cycle to the point that 012′s post-story storyline takes place in a nightmare reality where the cycles never ended: Chaos snaps and kills both sets of warriors, reduced to a Feral Desperado... Thing.

Is that what Garland could have potentially ended up as?

Meanwhile Jack’s story is different. Yeah, sure he and his friends become Chaos and the Fiends and that’s a bummer, but the story as a whole is a “The Real Story” type deal. Thus Jack and his friends aren’t the real villains, Lufenia is. Pay no mind to how little you’ll pity them when Tiamat forces them out of their sky castle.

Jack’s story is still tragic, but the bitterness of it being a consequence of his own actions is lost. Garland ruined the entire world all because his rage got the better of him. He has no one but himself to blame and the hopelessness it’s implied that he feels suggests that even he himself knows it. Jack’s massive plan is a direct response to Lufenia’s shenanigans.  Jack’s situation is more akin to Ramza’s, where he and his allies will go down in history as monsters as no one knows the truth.

However, all of that is ok, because Jack’s story is not

This is not his own masterpiece.

This is also ignoring all of the dev interviews and even the moogle and the Emperor saying that Jack resembles the man from the world of conflict, but is not actually him.

Fin: A Brief Conclusion

IT’S TIME FOR THE OBLIGATORY FF3 MENTION/RANT

Onion Knight in Dissidia is a character I love-hate. I can’t say I hate him all that much: I main him in Dissidia 012, he gets lots of good fanart, I used him extensively in Record Keeper and Brave Exvius  and his “little shit” attitude is fun.

But, I do not care about Onion Knight’s story. Indeed, as I alluded to above, when Onion Knight became the main protagonist of Opera Omnia’s story, I completely lost interest. I was even annoyed at how the finale ended.

Is it Onion Knight’s fault though? YesNo.

While I like Onion Knight, I prefer Luneth, Arc, Refia and Ingus. Onion Knight standing in place of the does not endear me as much as him standing alongside them. Perhaps it is because they don’t involve the FF characters in the plot, but Record Keeper and Brave Exvius understand this. Record Keeper even implies a connection between Onion Knight and the remake characters.

By contrast, Opera Omnia, the game where characters actually interact and can flex their characterization, which of the two groups is in the game at the time of this writing, and which isn’t: The four who had vague personalities in the source material or the one who only had a personality in the fighting game spinoff (Hint: It’s the one that’s only a single character)? 

At the same time though, I don’t want Onion Knight removed from the series either. Not only because of what my big issue with him is (one of a few, admittedly), but because I know that there are people that like him. I’ve been on the receiving end of the “neglect” stick, but I don’t necessarily want the other group to be simply take my place. Both can co-exist.

But what does this have to do with (Jack) Garland?

Because Garland is the same, but also different.

Opera Omnia does not hide the fact that Jack is Garland. Jack even gets his Garland armor as an alternate costume, recreating Chaos’ pose from the game logo.

But unlike Cecil or Yda, whose alternate forms cannot co-exist, Jack and Garland are treated as separate characters. As Garland was away for quite a while, they could have found some way for the Warrior of Light to restore Garland’s sanity or write some way to turn Garland into Jack or otherwise. Instead, they had Jack show up and interact with Dissidia Garland. And while Dissidia Garland is based on a Garland that no longer exists, Jack’s comments at the end of the Act suggest that he isn’t from that point; He intends to use the power of light to find a way to get home so that he can build his own Warriors of Light. If Jack truly is from that fixed future (and still alive, given that SoP was ambiguous with Jack’s fate in the true ending and the fact that Jack and his friends aren’t from Cornelia, look the timeline nonsense is weird, OK?) then why does he have memories of a timeline that no longer exists (whereas WoL at least has the excuse of having been there and lived, “memories buried in his heart” etc etc.)? 

With how blatant a tie-in the Different Future DLC is, it is inevitable that Dissidia Opera Omnia will tackle both Jack and Garland (Act 3 started, but hasn’t done too much yet. Act 4 introduces Neon and Astos to liven things up). Only time will tell where the story goes exactly, but so far, all indications seem to treat Jack and Garland as separate characters. And you know what?

That’s probably the best option.

Still, regardless of how one feels, there are fans who love Jack. 

There are fans who love OG Garland. 

They don’t need to be explicitly connected to co-exist

(Plus, no offense to Jack’s VA, he did a superb job, but Christopher Sabat Garland is hard to beat).

[chim-aera]

becoming lilith

I'm becoming a woman against my will, lately, the past few years.

I've noticed greatly, more and more, as soft skin wraps around my diaphragm, the same skin I tried to cut and carve away so only flesh and bone remained when I was seventeen and god was still holy and not same gape jawed marred mouthed sort of creature I only glance at in distaste and irritation.

I am becoming a woman, I think, and I do not like it.

I have believed I'd never be one, you can't cage me, you can't. I've tried, others have tried, but I may curl up in silence through the bars my claws neat and sheathed away from all fragile sumptuous skin, yet, I have greatly learned to realize womanhood is some, ghastly, beastly bloody thing of wrapping yourself in velvet while you watch yourself bleed out.

we are shoved into roles that do not suit us like a key jammed into a lock it does not fit.

oh how the gap toothed grinning child of ichor, and wolf howls, would be disappointed in me, I felt no fear, as a child, the world was owed to me, now the world is my judgement.

I think I am becoming a woman, as I wear this crown of martyrs well, so many take it, so many take it smiling, how?

this rage, oh how I thought my anger was dead but she reared her crown like a snake sinking her fangs locking her jaws I will bite and bite and bite.

I will go down thrashing and spitting out blood I will not go down soft and sweet wrap your hands around my throat, oh I am used to that feeling, and I will drag you to hell with me.

I will never be a victim again.

you can not glorify passivity while demonizing softness and expect to raise sheep instead of rams.

I am a sacrifice yet I grew my own horns and stabbed the priest who was aiming to cut off my head.

I will run.

I will fight.

womanhood tastes divine, like crushed rose petals in my hands, a body that will never quite fit, heaviness, at my body, honey on my lips, my flesh never quite hanging right as it should on my skeleton, sometimes I want to rearrange it, peel it away like a rotting grapefruit skin and sew it back on lighter and free.

womanhood feels like a black dress, it feels like speaking words spat from my lips lipstick smudged and bloody speaking out of hellfire and hierarchy at my grandmother's funeral.

no one spoke a breath.

my words held power, that room was ours. my grandmother's and mine.

the preacher quoted me, twice. my uncle spoke of my words, he's dead now.

sometimes I wonder if it's only me who's dead.

I cry, but it's bitter, I am bitter, I am full of so much hate.

I no longer wish to wrap and twist myself in satin like a bandage for a bullet wound. my knuckles are raw, and bloody, I want to gouge out eyes, I want to shriek, and fold into myself until I've become disgusting and retchid and dripping in power.

I do not want to be loved, I do not want to be sought, I do not want to be lovely.

I am realizing and learning to hold my flaws dear, I have been made something I am not since I was four. I am not a fantasy, I'd rather stab your eyes out.

oh there's so much fury in my soul maybe it'll burn me alive.

I do not trust men, or gods, or angels, or priests.

they say they'll protect but it is glorified heroism with nothing but a grin and stroke of ego, oh how I am so good at playing soft and meek and watch them grow fat on gluttonous, greedy gilded little praises.

I am so good at slipping out the words they want to hear, a honeyed tongue from a serpent's mouth.

I've never been Lilith, but I've never been Eve.

cut me open, like a fruit, you'll find the apple lodged into that phantom rib you always blamed us for having.

you did not create us.

we brought life it is also our right to take it away.

mother, crone, nymph.

we were never the maiden, we were never the virgin, we're feral, or I am, and I'll laugh, as they try to bring me down, I've ruined myself that I've made art into this fraying body, this corpse of color and cracking bones.

I will not go down gently.

I am not gentle.

I am not.

I am something else, and I will learn to feed my venom, to give into the serpent, I am not suffering, I will persist, I will make myself mythical in my own madness.

you cannot make a martyr, love, demons aren't killed for a cause.

perhaps womanhood is like godhood, the goddesess understand, and I will still never trust Apollo, or any grinning gods, no matter what they offer.

they'll never understand.

it is always something they want, it's a disgusting, deteriorating lack of understanding, yes, not all, but most, and my rage of when I was fourteen is slowly resurfacing like a wyvern unraveling her wings.

I'll unlock my jaw and go for the throat.

I will not go down softly.

I will not trust.

I will stay bitter, and I am learning to nurture it.

funny, curious, I enjoy my solitude, I'll relish in it, weaponizing myself with words and wit.

I am becoming a woman, I notice how they look at me, differently then when I was young and youth was stolen from me, they will desperately try to parade me in polyster fabrics, and a crown of false flowers a yoke around my throat, and a bowed head to make me what they want, but I will sink my teeth into the apple and grow my own horns and wings.

I will become the worst of them all.

[lunarscaled]

⋇ THIS VOICE THAT HAS BEEN BOUND TO FATE DUTIFULLY SERENADES: HIGH FANTASY

...the only thing granted equally to all is an unfair reality. ( TLDR at the bottom. )

Once upon a realm, in the foothills of a steep mountain, there was a kingdom that laid over the layer of a powerful white dragon, whose presence covered all the terrain in thick layers of snow and ice. Their crops could not grow, and their people could not flourish, and merchants and travelers never came with their wares in fear of an unescapable winter and vicious beast. The citizens of the kingdom, in a shambled state between death and terror, begged the ruling family to do something, unable to leave with nothing to their names. To quell the power of the merciless dragon, the royal family pursued endless leads, and fell upon but a single answer in their own daughter: a powerful, beautiful song magic that would lull the dragon into a deep sleep.

The King and Queen were despondent---would they really sacrifice their daughter to a life of spellcasting merely to subdue a dragon? But the princess was of a tender heart, and she insisted; her only request as that she marry the boy of a noble house who she loved, so that they could have a child together, so that they would not be without an heir and her husband would not live alone if she did not succeed. After three years of harsh winters and trepidation, the first Dragon Maiden descended to the lair of the dragon, dressed in crystals and silver and flowing silks, disguised as an offering. Arrogant, the dragon believed this lie, and cast his eyes upon her as she danced and sang for him. Without realizing her intent, the dragon fell into a deep sleep.

But the spell would not last forever. Each month the Dragon Maiden must descend into the lair of the dragon to cast her song, and each month she sang a little more of her life whittled away in service of humbling the mighty beast.

The Prince Consort, looking upon his young son years into the affair, was under duress: how long must his wife continue this charade, doling her life out? What will become of the kingdom, when there is no longer a Dragon Maiden to keep the dragon at bay? The snow had begun to melt and give way to the vibrant ecosystem the mountain was meant to hold, and the fair springs and mild winters made the land rich for their people to live off of; sellers came to the towns to trade, and the commonfolk no longer feared the tyranny of the dragon beneath them. But that peace could not last if it was not asleep, and no sword or knight they had come across had a sword or swing strong enough to break its hide, so it could not be killed. The Prince Consort, desperate to someday relieve his wife of her burden, sent emissaries out across the content in search of one thing: to find all bearers of song magic and bring them to the Kingdom Selene. From them, from their children generations on, a new Dragon Maiden would be chosen; and for such a grim fate, one of the children of that family would be betrothed to the heir of the royal family, their life to be cared for in all aspects for their dutiful service to the kingdom.

And so, it was. With less than 100 families answering the Prince Consort's call, half as many came to live in the kingdom, motivated by various means to give their daughters (and sons) away to future princes and princesses, to the body of a dragon in a cold cold cavern beneath the earth. And to celebrate this morbid fate, the kingdom celebrated with flowers and fine fabrics and music---a four-day engagement of singing and dancing citizens of all ages, and from them a new Dragon Maiden selected, her hand sworn to the young prince for her beautiful voice and graceful foot.

Generations of families gave their bloodlines to the pursuit, and generations more would come flocking over centuries, hoping to change their fate by offering the fate of their own. The ruling family changes hands as easily as the Chosen Voice does, and in the blossoming garden of her parent's noble home was Lyric's own mother chosen. Still young, still sweet; Amélie Gravellese's parents knew even before she was of age that there was no better voice in all the kingdom. Flowers bloomed at a word, animals were soothed by her presence, the crops and herbs she grew all flourished under her songs. On her 18th birthday, she danced and sang on the stage for the spectacle and envy of all watching, and no more than a week later did she meet the Crown Prince to be betrothed. When the life of the current Dragon Maiden, the Queen's sister, began to diminish, they would be married so she could assume her duties: children, ruling, mothering succession.

But Amélie was a lively young girl, and the Crown Prince was distant. And when she lay arms outspread in a field of long grass and lavender, she was met by a quiet but honest farmhand with a steady gaze, who offered her a single rose that he held in his calloused hands. And together, they ran away.

you know where this story is going, don't you?

The farm boy and the Dragon Maiden ran away from the kingdom to be together, in love, eloping. At the same time, the crown prince's Aunt fell suddenly ill later that month and passed just as she was meant to renew the spell. With no Dragon Maiden prepared to perform the ritual, gradually the dragon rose from its hundreds-of-years slumber, rancorous that it had been deceived. Its roar quaked the ground of the whole kingdom, its presence set all life withering, and no amount of wealth or tribute or maidens would soothe what had been done.

With the blood of the Dragon Maiden on its teeth and cold wind at its back, the dragon laid waste to the kingdom---stood upon the crest of the King and Queen's castle and issued his decree: Sacrifice all who sing before me. Until you do, all your kin will become sickly and die, for all the years you have imprisoned me.

A dragon's curse.

For a decade the kingdom comes apart at the seams, bending to the will of a dragon. Sons and daughters are dragged before him, cast onto the stone by their hair and crushed, maimed, left to bleed to death. For a decade the King and Queen must sacrifice their own people, hoping it will be enough, and it never is. The kingdom becomes cold and barren once more, the ground hard where nothing grows. People flee, only the destitute and stubborn remaining, and all is silent where there once was much sound.

Somewhere not so far away, a young pair of twins were singing an old tune.

In the 10th year of their life, Lyric Gravellese suffers unexpectedly. Their mother's sickness suddenly overwhelms her following the birth of her fourth child, and their brother who had once made the crops and garden bloom with his joyous voice coughs blood like a songbird given to the grave. In that year, 7 months apart, both of them pass and are buried in the garden. Lyric weeps. Their father weeps. Their young sisters are too young to understand. The message comes a year from then from a passing farmer, his cattle hauling all he owns in a cart with his two children: the dragon calls for all who sing. He is seeking the last of them.

Lyric's father is angry the whole year before. He is grieving, wallowing, he drinks---Lyric sings softly to themselves in the garden and he seizes them by the hair, beats them until they think there is no other outlet for his sorrow. He thinks of his youngest children, he thinks of his wife and his son, and he looks at them with such disgust as they have never known. "I will give you to the dragon," he says, Lyric trembling in his fist, "I will save my children by giving you away." It is not a pleasant trip. A kingdom from a dark dream, covered in snowing clouds and sheets of ice, a castle with claw marks where the dragon sits and the ruins of the town where few shuffle about the streets. Their father stops on the edge of the city and tells them to go alone. They are his no longer. ( Lyric, no more than 11, feels their lip wobble and hot tears on their cheeks. his cold eyes do not change. they hug their arms around themselves and back away, hunched and sobbing. he does not stop to pity them. )

A young Lyric stands upon a stage for all to see. The dragon leans his long neck down towards them, inspects with his large terrifying blue eyes, huffs a breath through his nose that blows all their hair away from their face.

You are the last? questions the beast. They wish to end my curse, but my revenge has not been nearly enough. He leans his broad head away from them, raises it high and stares down. Lyric feels their body shaking in the wind and cold, longing for gentle hands and finding none. All eyes resent them, including the dragon's. Until I have had my revenge I will keep you here---I will keep you alive. The beast rumbles, full of malice. You will live your life in this castle, in this kingdom, imprisoned as I was. For as long as I wish it to be.

And so, it was. Their body was sliced open by a claw tip and sutured by the dragon's blood, inflicting a terrible longevity to their life in contrast to the brevity of the lives of those who sang, or once had. It hurt awfully, and they sobbed on the carpeted floor of the castle clutching their closing wound, begging for relief that would not come for many days. The dragon did away with the King, the Queen, and their son. All the servants of the castle who had not fled would now from the false prospect on the throne---a child. Not yet even in their teens. The Kingdom Selene was a putrid and decayed shell of its formal self, ruled by the child of the fled Dragon Maiden, who was despised by all their subjects. An evil child they hissed. Guilty.

Nearly a decade has passed since then.

That child, who was once so small they could curl up on the chair that was their throne to cry to sleep, is now the age their mother would have been when her time came to become queen. But what would they be queen of?

There is nothing here.

TLDR;

Lyric is the ruler of the desolate, ruined Kingdom of Selene, which once used Song Magic to quell the dragon that made its lair deep below the mountain and city. In revenge for all the years it spent imprisoned by the spell cast on it, the dragon cast a curse on all users of Song that their bloodlines should be weak, and that they will become frail and die. Desperate to save his youngest daughters, Lyric's father offered them to the dragon as the final Chosen Voice, to be slaughtered. Lyric, the last wielder of Song Magic in the boundaries of the kingdom, has been forced to consume the blood of the dragon to extend their life to prevent the curse from ending so that the dragon's revenge may continue until it is satisfied. Because of this blood, Lyric has grown to develop a number of draconic attributes, such as tough skin, scales, horns, and even a potent form of Ice Magic ( though not nearly as potent as the magic which keeps the kingdom in eternal winter. ) They have been in the position of "Prince/Princess" since they were 11 years old, and the sparse population of remaining citizens often refer to them as the "Child of Evil", believing their mother's elopement to be the source of the kingdom's collapse. Lyric's position and title can be considered hardly more than decorative. It is the dragon who rules the kingdom, who bends it to its whims and comes and goes as it chooses. Lyric is merely a figurehead trying desperately to do what they can to help the people, and a scapegoat for their anger and frustrations. Lyric cannot leave the kingdom---even if they tried to, his blood binds them to him, and he would retrieve them and raze the land they fled to. This does not prevent the kingdom from receiving visitors, but it rarely does so, for obvious reasons. Despite its tragic and violent state, the kingdom still sits upon a dragon's hoard, which the beast leaves and returns to bring more wealth to at its leisure. This hoard is a temptation to many, though it rarely ends well if the beast catches them first. Lyric is far more merciful, wishing only to preserve as many lives as possible, feeling responsible for all the tragedy and grief that plagues a once prosperous place.

[the-era-of-shadow]

Good Ol' Mistaken Identity

Written by Ash Rose

Summary: Now that it's not the brink of dawn, and Widow has been awake for a while, the events of the early morning truly set into her mind - and she starts connecting the dots to something that had occurred a few days ago… And starts to feel bad about it.

CW/TWs: Mentions of death, very mild swearing

Notes: Haiii can you believe it?? Another story so soon? What is this, 2020 all over again? Well, not quite, since this summer vacation is, well, more permanent than the one I had then - which is what has given me the time to pump a story out so quickly in the first place - while also being much higher quality than one from 2020 (hopefully). Besides, this story is essentially the epilogue to In Regards anyways - split into a separate story as to prevent any new readers in the future from getting spoiled for Inner Connection due to the reading order.

(Four days after the events of “In Regards to a So-called Twisted Maiden”, two hours after the ending of “Inner Connection”)

Despite how busy everyone was at the moment, whether it be gathering supplies to create a makeshift aircraft or handling the components of Project Midnight and preparing it for travel, things were rather quiet amongst the Black Arms - words really only being exchanged through the hivemind when instructions needed to be handed out.

The near silence caused Widow’s mind to ponder upon the previous few days and the things that had occurred during them. It was a shame that those girls got away without much more than some trauma, she would have happily killed them all if it weren’t for her meltdown that had been triggered by that blue bastard of a hedgehog’s transformation into their so called “super” form.

But at least she herself was still alive, and Eclipse has some new wisps to assimilate into Dark Arms to boot - Widow did have to admit that. She also had to admit that it probably wouldn't be alive right now if it hadn’t been for some seemingly very quick thinking from her late husband Doom. At first, Widow didn’t quite have a grasp on what exactly had gone on in the moment that had saved her life, but now with the events that had happened just a few hours ago in her mind, it was able to surmise that Doom had momentarily possessed Shadow’s body and had pushed the limits of their power, all to defend her…

It reminded her of a similar event that had occurred just a few days prior, on a bit of a lesser scale. When she had noticed that it was being stalked by those self proclaimed “Freedom Trainees”, she had made the hasty and possibly even risky decision to find refuge in a pawn shop owned by the brother of her most recent victim… But despite having every reason to be cruel to her, the shop’s owner had treated her and Garrick with the utmost care - and if that wasn’t strange on its own, during the entire visit, she had been overwhelmed with the sensation of Doom’s presence despite no physical evidence for such a feeling, and had been hearing whispers of the voices of comrades long past. It had chalked it all up to coincidence and/or her mind playing tricks on her while in distress at the time, but when she had been compelled by what it now realized to be the hivemind to return to the pawn shop early the next morning, and had found the owner’s dead body and a note addressed to her by her real name, she realized that it was no coincidence. It really had been Doom the entire time, just possessing the body of the shop’s owner as he would later do with Shadow - though Widow doubted that the shop keeper had agreed to the arrangement like Shadow had. 

If only she had realized it sooner. Maybe Doom could have kept that body long term? Not that there seems to be much issue with the current arrangement with Shadow, but Widow couldn’t help but wonder, nor could she help but feel like it needed to apologize for her ignorance.

As these thoughts came to her, Widow noticed that Shadow was seemingly taking a quick break, and she decided to try to get its attention.

“Oh? Do you need help with something, mom?” They inquired, its attention being successfully grabbed by Widow, as shown by how its head turned to face her.

“I do, actually. Though… It isn’t about the aircraft, nor Project Midnight. Is that alright?” Widow answered, acknowledging how busy its child must be, and not wanting to be a bother to them. “Heh. You want to talk to dad again, don’t you?” Shadow correctly guessed, grinning in a teasing manner. Widow simply nodded, as her cheeks became noticeably warmer. “Let me see if he’s available.” They told her, its mischievous smile gaining a soft and loving tinge to it.

“Thank you, Shadow. Truly… I know how busy you must be right now, so it is quite nice of you to do this for me.” Widow said as she moved closer to Shadow’s side.

“I’m on my break, why wouldn’t I?” Shadow explained plainly.

“Oh, bless you, sweet child…” Widow responded sweetly, deciding to sit down on a large rock as she spoke, unintentionally revealing a piece of paper that was in one of the pockets of her coat to Shadow.

“Dad says that he needs a moment. But while we wait, may I ask what is in your pocket?” Shadow spoke after about thirty seconds of silence, pointing curiously to the paper still sticking out of Widow’s coat.

“Oh, this little thing? … I honestly had forgotten that I still had it with me…!” Widow replied, gently taking the paper from her pocket.

“I remember seeing you hold a piece of paper of a similar size when you, Eclipse, Omega and Garrick were taking Relic to the hospital a few days ago. Is this the same one I saw then?” Shadow continued to question, approaching Widow to get a closer look.

“I do believe it is, if memory serves me well… It’s a letter from your father, I do believe.” Widow answered, allowing Shadow to take the paper from her.

“A… letter from my father? But… how could that-” Shadow began to question, skimming past the part of the letter that notes it as being addressed to Widow and unfolding it right away in order to see what was written within. But before they had the chance to read it, or even to finish its sentence, Doom finally appeared to them and Widow, interrupting the current conversation.

“Ah, hello… Apologies for my late arrival - even spirits need their rest, and I had been ignoring that fact for a bit too long…” He said to the both of them as the amulet around Shadow’s neck began to illuminate his form.

“Oh dear me… Did we wake you, Doomie? I’m terribly sorry if that’s the case!” Widow wondered with concern.

“Same here.” Shadow added with a nod, feeling just as remorseful, even if it didn’t show as blatantly as it did with Widow.

“Please, do not be sorry… There are much bigger hurdles than this that I would overcome for your sake. This is of no concern.” Doom replied.

“Hmph… If you insist.” Shadow remarked, trying to hide its guilt.

“Anyways… What is it that you summon me for, my most beloved darling?” Doom then inquired, seating himself beside his dearest wife.

“Oh, it isn’t much, really…” Widow began to say as she took back the paper from Shadow, “All I want is to apologize for not realizing that it had been you in that little old pawn shop, really.” She then admitted.

“My dear Widow… Please have mercy on your heart, I have already forgiven you for such a thing, for I had on the day itself.” Doom explained to her, making his best attempt to lovingly cup their hand on Widow’s cheek despite his current form being incorporeal.

“Oh Doomie… Your forgiveness means the universe to me…” Widow replied tenderly, placing her hand perfectly on top of Doom’s, as if he was not a ghost, but still alive and with her.

“I… I’d really hate to interrupt you two, since you seem so happy to be in each other’s presence at the moment, but… I am… a bit confused as to what this is all about.” Shadow hesitantly spoke up.

“Confused…? Oh, why so? I do believe I told you about the ordeal after I came home that afternoon, and I allowed you to read the letter, so what is not clicking for you, dear?” Widow questioned, genuinely not understanding why Shadow would feel lost.

“Well, first of all, you told Eclipse, and you noticed me eavesdropping. But more importantly, you had relayed the tale of your visit to the pawn shop in the StarSpiral Mall back when you believed the owner to be his own person - Benson Cadere, and that “letter” is more like a poem, or a snippet of song lyrics, and a vague one at that.” Shadow explained rather bluntly.

"Ah… I do suppose it is, then..." Widow admitted with lighthearted embarrassment. "It seems that even though we are connected through a hivemind, you are not as skilled at seeing into Doomie's mystery as I am… My genuine apologies, Shadow."

"It's all alright." Shadow replied with a nod. "Now… May I have an explanation for all this, please?"

“Of course. I do believe it would be a good idea to make it so that we are all on the same boat, as the saying goes. Widow, my dearest, why don’t you get us started?” Doom proposed, gesturing Shadow to come sit with them and Widow after he had spoken.

“I’d love to~!” Widow answered happily. “I’ll start with how I personally interpreted your little note to me! Because of all of the men I’ve lured into being the meals I use to keep myself and Garrick alive, I face a lot of ridicule from the people of this planet. A lot of people want me locked away, and a lot of other people want me dead, either way, I am very often an unwelcome presence. This time, however, someone had decided to take that desire of theirs and act upon it, plotting to get rid of me by whatever means they were having in mind. My beloved Doomie, however, somehow saw this and intervened, stopping my assailant from being able to make even a single scratch on me~! My guess is that it was Benson, wanting revenge for his brother’s demise, given that it was his body that they were possessing. I also think that if I had noticed Doomie’s presence sooner, he could have possibly used Benson’s body long term, which is why I felt the need to apologize, by the way. It feels like an opportunity lost…” 

“Oh, Widow my dear, you worry far too much… Besides, do you not think an unwilling host would at some point wish to fight back? Or at the very least reawaken within the body after some time?” Doom argued, wrapping himself around Widow in an embrace.

“I concur. That sort of thing would just cause unnecessary drama. I’d imagine it’d be an intriguing concept for a TV show plot, but we’re here to be victorious, not to entertain.” Shadow added, fidgeting with the Doom’s Eye amulet, which was temporarily made to be better fitting for it by overlapping the necklace’s chain around their neck, making it look as if Shadow was wearing several necklaces at once. “Besides, I like my new position… I had very much missed the closeness I had once had with dad… I almost feel like I’m on the ARK again…”

“But now without that traitor…” Doom muttered to himself.

Widow was about to try to stop Shadow from inquiring further, knowing that they lacked the memories of witnessing Gerald’s prerecorded betrayal, and also knowing that any questions asked about it would probably make Doom immensely uncomfortable, but just as it looked like Shadow was about to speak, it independently decided to drop the subject for whatever reason, turning its head to Widow instead.

“Anyways - the note makes more sense to me now that you’ve explained your interpretation. You really know dad well.” They said to her with a kind smile, and a tone of voice that was both thankful, but also a tad bit playfully envious of just how close Widow was with Doom.

“I’d be disappointed in myself if I didn’t!” Widow responded lightheartedly.

“But that still leaves me with one more question…” Shadow began, turning away from Widow. “How were you able to possess this “Benson” person if you told me last night that my relation to you was one of the core reasons why you selected me as your vessel?!” It then dramatically questioned, turning and even pointing to Doom as they stood up from the rock all three of them had been sitting on. A few seconds went by of awkward silence, both Doom and Widow being caught off guard by the way Shadow had asked its question. “... That sounded more playfully theatrical in my head…” Shadow admitted awkwardly as their body closed into itself from the confident stance it had been in before.

“Ah… You are alright, Shadow.” Doom assured, both him and Widow giggling at the situation once the shock wore off. “I do suppose I have some explaining to do. Since I will be honest now and admit that I was… lying.”

“Lying?” Shadow echoed in confusion.

“About the genetic link being an essential component for me inhabiting a body. The truth is that I can actually possess any body that I please, as long as my amulet is nearby… At some point during one of the two’s searches for items to sell at their shop, Benson and his brother Reginald had uncovered the amulet and brought it back to their pawn shop. This is how I was able to see that after Widow had killed Reginald, Benson was plotting to kill Widow. When I had found this out, I lured Benson into sacrificing his body to me by using Chaos Control to teleport the amulet to the foot of his door. From there, he marked his own fate by putting the necklace on…” Doom very thoroughly explained, covering his bases for both Shadow and Widow’s questions. “Though I will admit, your relation to me, in terms of it being the factor that makes you a Black Arms, certainly does make this whole arrangement more… stable. My abilities may be more plentiful due to my godly nature, but I am still a Black Arms, after all.” He added, now speaking directly to Shadow.

“Right…! Now that I think about it, I remember being told by someone that Black Arms can exchange vessels, but can’t inhabit a non-Black Arms body… I think it was Rhygenta that shared that information with me?” Shadow recollected as it finally sat back down on the rock. “Anyways… Why did you lie about that? It definitely seems… unnecessary to do so, doesn’t it?” 

“... I hated seeing you be so… loathing towards your own self… I merely wished to give you a purpose, and with it, a reason to have for loving yourself… Something that you are able to provide for your brethren… It is what has worked for me.” Doom answered tenderly.

“Doomie…” Widow said in a somewhat stern tone.

“ -What I believed to have been working for me, until I was made aware by my fellow Black Arms leaders that I should find reasons to find worth within myself instead of purely what I can do for others.”  Doom added per Widow's subliminal request.

"... Thank you. I appreciate that you wanted to help me…" Shadow responded, tears quickly filling up their eyes and falling down its cheeks, despite its efforts to wipe them away.

"Are you alright, Shadow?" Widow asked, the sight of her child crying bringing her much concern.

"Mhm. Just… overwhelmed." Shadow answered simply, clearly unable to manage much more than that.

Through the hivemind, Widow attempted to see into Shadow's mind, wanting to know what it was that was bothering it. It was hazy, as if there was a fog throughout the connection, but she could get hints of disbelief. Specifically, disbelief of the fact that Doom is in fact struggling with many of the same things that Shadow is. An overwhelming sense of… finally being understood. Widow chalked up the bad connection to the intensity of Shadow’s feelings and decided to allow them to either sort it out themself, or to directly ask Widow for assistance.

“Do you plan on making a new chain for the Doom’s Eye amulet when you get the chance?” Doom asked Widow out of the blue, changing the subject.

“I do, in fact!” Widow replied, happily going along with the new topic.

“Really? I think I like wearing it like this, actually!” Shadow joined in on the conversation, bouncing right back from being the emotional wreck it was only a minute earlier.

“Are… you sure?” Doom hesitantly questioned Shadow.

“Looks like Shadow’s bad taste in things strikes again!” Widow remarked mischievously.

“Hey!!” Shadow reacted - forcefully, yet clearly not seriously upset. “I thought you had moved past siding with the general public when it came to that!” It added.

“Shadow, I’m not “siding with the general public”, I just know an absolute mess of a movie when I see one!” Widow argued back in a playful manner.

“Awww come on! It’s one of the only two movies in the franchise that has your favorite character! That’s gotta count for something, right?” Shadow protested with a grin.

“Oh, not at all! The fact that such a train-wreck would feature her greatness is an insult to her honor!” Widow huffed, dramatically crossing her arms.

“Well… It’s the only movie in the franchise that has my favorite character…!” Shadow mentioned with puppy-dog eyes. A last ditch effort for sympathy.

“They deserve a better movie and you know it! Besides, that’s only because it’s still the latest movie in the franchise - which is a damn shame!” Widow countered.

“Hmph… Now I am the one that is “out of the loop”, as they say.” Doom lamented.

“Maybe we can do another marathon after we get to the Aerth Temple and get everything set up?” A voice that sounded strikingly like Garrick’s suggested.

Lo and behold, when Widow and Shadow turned around to see where the voice had come from, there Garrick was, with Blurk standing beside him.

“Oh! Hello Garrick!” Widow greeted, pleasantly surprised.

“That sounds like a good idea… But what are you doing here?” Shadow inquired of Garrick.

“I was sent out by Ma to go find you two and ask you how much longer you were planning on extending this break of yours, since there is still stuff that needs to be done.” Blurk explained quite straightforwardly, as he tends to do.

“And I tagged along because I like spending time with Blurk!” Garrick added excitedly.

“O-oh. I do suppose I’ve taken some more time away than I should have…” Shadow admitted, feeling embarrassed. “If I am going to be a vessel for my father, then I should lead a good example like he does! Tell Eclipse that I am immediately returning to work now!”

“And send Eclipse my apologies, please! I had just wanted to speak to Doomie about one specific thing, but then we got… sidetracked…!” Widow requested, practically pleading with Blurk, as she hoped that Eclipse wasn’t too upset with her.

“Got it.” Blurk replied, giving the both of them a thumbs up.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then…! I'd best be off… Until next time…!” Doom said to Widow and Shadow, being unable to help but yawn as he spoke.

“I shall call upon you if we are in need of you again.” Shadow told him as Widow began to walk off with the two young boys towards where the rest of the Black Arms were camped at, Shadow then following after them as Doom’s ghost faded from view.