#caidi

[shardssystem]

So I saw a post about this concept and thought it would make for a interesting ask. Magical damage, like a necromancers fingers slowly turning black and losing sensation or a wizard with lighting bolt scares across their arms. What dose it look like when your oc's push their magic beyond what their bodies can handle?

Sorry for the delay!

So for Liya, like most cases of magic, it mostly depends on her host. Outside of a host, she becomes anchored to the ironwood tree that makes her grave on Melenas, or to the former heart of the Selesnya conclave in the 10th District on Ravnica, where the leylines meet. The more she fights against it, the more transparent she gets, and the foggier her mind becomes. It’s like a slower acting anaesthesia.

Though Yri’s magic is small to match its user, she can still push herself too far. Her hair starts losing its fight against gravity, and it becomes harder for her to fly. Less obviously, food (especially sweets) loses its flavour.

Vasil’s magic is basically what’s keeping him alive, so using too much means he starts drying out, as it were, and his bones start weakening their connections. Like Liya, he starts getting fuzzy around the edges before becoming a temporarily inanimate pile of bones.

Caidi’s magic powers her telepathy and projection, along with their shapeshifting. They remain sentient, but become unable to communicate effectively.

Kolya unfortunately finds himself in this position too often. Utilising precognition puts stress on the brain, so he develops nosebleeds and sharp headaches as a warning sign to avoid damage from continuing. He’s pushed himself into a coma before, and could risk death.

Conversely, The Coterie rarely push too hard, being able to channel power through all three of them. Unless in a literal life or death scenario, they don’t tend to fight together, meaning there’s at least one of them in reserve. If it comes to it, they collectively start weakening and aging, their shared mind generating screams internally. This heals over time with rest, but leaves the triplets vulnerable in the interim.

Thanks for the ask, @little-red-rabbit!

[evenmoresunnier]

My first and second attempt!!!

I had to do the second one without a reference since my sister shut her laptop off which ended up being more beneficial so yay!!

[recklessandyoung]

Hello may!!! Happy new year! How have you been dear?

Hiii Caidie my love!! Happy new year!!! Ahh this year has gone so fast…

I’m pretty good, thank you! Just watching movies with my family (per New Years tradition) and already contemplating sleep lol and listening to fireworks

How are you my love?

[strawberryloveyyy]

Now that I'm fifteen does it mean when somebody tells me they love me I'll actually believe them now?

[whatislovevavy]

Updates

Hey guys :)

I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season :) :) I just wanted to give a little update:

Learning from the Best will be updated this coming week :) the chapter is 75% done :)

The next chapter of Mustang will be posted sometime after Learning from the Best :) it's about 50% done.

Due to popular demand, part two of Most of Freedom and of Pleasure will be made :)

I'm trying to get everything updated before I go back to school in mid january. I appreciate you guys' support, patience, and kind words <3 It means the world to me :)

@roosterforme @sebsxphia @mamachasesmayhem @withahappyrefrain @entertainmentgirl80 @teacupsandtopgun @seresinhangmanjake @goldenseresinretriever @sailor-aviator @hello7442 @gigisimsonmars @yepyeahuhhuh @tess-lecter-blog@hookslove1592 @86laura11 @seresinsbrat @isabelstardis @shamelessghostwagonwobbler @emma8895eb @taytaylala12 @kmc1989 @h-ngm-ns @hangmans-wingman @marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @potato-girl99981  @a-beaverhausen   @callmemana@joalslibrary @peachiicherries @whiskeyswriting @jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @cheekymcgrath @djs8891 @novastories@urmom-999 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30@shanimallina87 @whoeverineedtobe @slippinginto-theairwaves @dingochef @dreamlandcreations @eloquentdreamer @eli2447 @buckysteveloki-me

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Schedule for the Week of 03/03/2024 to 03/09/2024

Hiya Lovelies! Happy March! Here's what we've got coming up this week!

03/06/2024 - WEDNESDAY - Chapter 7 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Tagging some of my lovelies for awareness:  @roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13  @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues  @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone  @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58  @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts  @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74  @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87  @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @djs8891 @bellaireland1981  @tsumudoll @scoliobean @desert-fern @horseshoegirl  @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun  @callsignspitfire @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

[bellaireland1981]

Stubborn Hearts: Wedding Day |COMING SOON!

Summary: Part of the Stubborn Hearts Universe  Bradley and Sunshine are finally walking down the aisle! You are invited to share their day and celebrate this dynamic duo! There will be laughter, tears, happiness, and lots of shenanigans from our Dagger crew. (NOTE: WILL BE NSFW 18+ ONLY!! MINORS DNI!)

Characters: Bradley x Mitchell! Reader, Jake x Female! OC (Shay Benjamin), Dagger squad, Pete Mitchell x Daughter! Reader, Penny Benjamin, Sarah Kazansky.

Will be 2 parts! Posting 4/24 and 4/25

Warnings: Fluff, SMUT (will be tagged accordingly), slight breeding kink, little bit of angst, MORE FLUFF!

Taglist: 

@gracespicybradshaw​  @memoriesat30​, @khaylin27​, @snekssss,  @shanimallina87​ @atarmychick007​  @jstarr86​  @marantha​  @taytaylala12​ @theweekndhistorybook​ @happylittlereader​ @hobiismyhopeu​ @krismdavis​ @friendly-neighborhood-peter​n@oneelleandaneye @super-btstrash-posts​ @mygyn​ @emma8895eb​ @kitty-moonflower-blog awesomebooklover17, krismdavis, mygyn, Jayniebop, Hisredheadedgoddess28, jstarr86, @cherrycola27​, @harrysgothicbitch​ , @caidi-paris​ @senjoritanana​ @bethabear12, @flyinlove  , fulla02 , @sophham​ @itsdesiree86​

[comfy-whumpee]

Village Vagrant

@crash-bump-bring-the-whump treated me today, so I thought I should share some more Northlight.

@bloodybrambles, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @raigash, @paingineering, @whumpywhumper, and special thanks to @that-one-thespian for Northlight’s story.

There's no colour here, and it's terrible. Everything is grey and white, a slowly descending cloud of monochrome eating up the landscape that would once have been so vibrant. There is no bright grass, no sparkling wildflowers, nothing so nice. All Northlight can see are some wizened, bare-boned trees, and the grey expanse of the sky where the sun is never seen.

 The snow drifts like tiny bites of cold fluttered over skin, gentle enough for the first few minutes, and much worse if left for more. Northlight scrunches their nose as a flake lands in their eyebrow and melts against it, sliding down into the socket of their eye, the cold trace of a finger as smooth as a soprano note.

 The first of many. The snow crawls into their hair and soaks into their clothing. It trickles down their neck and over their scalp. Their fingers start to numb off, the very tips of them going hard and dead. It's not frostbite, not yet, but it doesn't feel good. It feels like their body is shrinking down.

 But their leg has twisted under them and landed them in a ditch, and they can't get out.

 The nice thing about the snow is that it numbs the pain with cold ropes around their limbs. It tightens the blood under the skin until it barely flows, like water under a sheet of ice. Northlight tries to lift their head from the ground, but it is too heavy, soaked through with tired thoughts of how long they've been walking. They don't mind the cold if they can get a shelter, but this fall has dealt those plans a fatal blow. All they can do right now is lie still and wait, and hope their freedom could still be negotiated, if someone from the cult was to find them.

 Does the cult even exist in this time? They don't know when it is, only that there is nothing in the sky; none of those new-fangled satellites that flash green and red. No, there are more stars, natural stars. Northlight could see everything, if they were able to turn their head to look.

 It's a shame it's night. Someone might have found them in the day. They can't hear a road or a city, though. They can't hear anything but the wind. Maybe there's nobody around to find them. How long will they be here, if that's the case?

 Winter is the worst season. Everywhere is cold, and nobody wants to come out and see a stranger. Sometimes people are kinder, but only if they're in a good mood, with some holiday to look forward to. More often, they're moving quick, and they're not looking down at where Northlight might be sitting and hoping for kindness. They're too occupied with getting warm again.

 The world starts to fuzz out as more white and grey pile around them. Their hair must be mostly white by now. They can't feel the tip of their nose or their toes. The ground feels like it is soaking them up as a frozen part of the landscape. From outside in, Northlight feels the freeze try to take them.

 They don't have the energy to fight it off. They can only lie, feeling it absorb them into its deathly embrace, and let their mind drift to happier times.

-

 "Get the cart! Caidy, the cloak. Alright, stranger, here we go."

The sound of someone's voice tugs at Northlight's sleeve, a confident male voice, directing others around him. Moments later, a real set of arms wrap around Northlight's stiff body and bundle it into a sturdy, thick fabric. Wool brushes against their skin and they feel themself settled against a cold wooden surface. Footsteps sound around them, hard, not on the snow-covered ground. Then the tug of movement, real movement, alerts them to what's happening.

 The cult has found them.

 Big hands feel their gentle way up Northlight's leg, finding the swollen joint. "Get me some snow to pack around this," the man in charge calls, and Northlight wonders if it's Kurt Swindon. "Don't worry friend, you're in good hands. We'll get you warm and rested before long."

 He sounds like Kurt, mellow and kind. Northlight thinks about the blood moving sluggishly back into their fingers and toes. At least they're not in the cold anymore, and their wet clothes are gone, replaced by the wrapper of something warm and furred. They should move, throw themself through to another era, but… If this is a Kurt before he met Northlight - calling them stranger - perhaps they can learn something.

 A dreadful chill packs around their knee, and they try to breathe through the pain, knowing they're only going to have to wait. They don't know where or when they are, and for the time being at least, they need the cultists to think they're unconscious so they don't get marked.

 "You picking up strangers again, Sam?"

 "Aye."

 Sam. Oh, they loved someone called Sam once. This isn't that Sam.

 "Looks half dead."

 "He ain't though."

 "S'pose."

 Northlight keeps still and silent for the journey, and doesn't move more than a little when they're scooped up into carry. Still bundled in the cloak, but with snow falling from their leg, it takes everything they have not to curl up in the safety of strong arms and forget the danger facing them.

 They lie tense, but they are set down again on smooth wood. There is no pain or digging knife. No sigil scars them. Instead, people pack in on either side, and they begin to move. The tug and lull of a horse-drawn cart is more soothing than any ambulance. These people are in no hurry to secure them or lock them away. They huddle together with Northlight between their legs, and hunch over them to enclose their body in a tent of warmth.

 "I hope they weren't out there for too long," someone says, apparently deciding Northlight is not conscious enough to talk to directly.

 "In that snow, it's a good thing you found them, Sam."

 "They were hard to see, covered in that snow. But I know my tracks even half-covered in moonlight."

 "That you do."

 "It'll be good to get them by a fire."

 "I'll fetch some of my tea, that'll put him right."

 "Must be a traveller or a beggar."

 "No beggar's going to go hungry around here."

 The simple affirmations and plans are passed between the people above with simple, confident motions. They will have each necessary provision as they are all needed. There is the possibility or more support of they wanted it. These people take on the duty of care to others as simply and matter-of-factly as they took finding them in a ditch in the snow. Plan has been set already. Jobs are volunteered for, not allocated. They are in good hands.

 Northlight turns their face into the fur and hides tears. Good hands have picked them up to carry them to safety.

 Always, the thought trickles in, that maybe these people haven't seen their face well enough yet. Maybe it's only a matter of time. Their scar always gives them away, and the Alliance made sure all their followers and debtors recognise it. There might be just one person in this group wishing harm upon them. They wouldn't know if it was too late.

 But there is a heavy blanket over them and the cart moves at a steady roll, and it's too hard to consider moving when their body is only just returning from its hibernation. Their skin tingles sharply as blood begins to circulate smoothly again, and is this why they were saved? To make the flow flow instead of freezing in their veins? They are a vessel, after all.

 "Old Mahon's got a bed he can spare," someone was saying above their head. "He'll be glad of the company."

 "Aye so. Should we get a change of clothes also? These ones are soaked through."

 "I can lend some. My Daniel's about a fitting size. Warm and dry is better'n this."

 "We'll have to bring the firewood in for Old Mahon, he can't do it himself after a day's work."

 Their whole conversation was about where to put them. Some old man had space, but was he safe or was he someone paying these innocent villagers to bring him a scarred vagrant? Perhaps he was a politician or pastor or sheriff, something that would command authority so nobody could refuse.

It felt smothering.

 They rest of the journey passed quietly. Northlight lay tense, even as shivers started to climb through them. They couldn't relax with these dangerous people all around them. They knew how cowardly it was, but if these villagers meant them harm, they would find out soon. They didn't want to do anything to make the mask slip prematurely.

 When the cart rolled to a stop, the sound of footsteps and shuffling warned them before two pairs of arms gently hoisted them upright. "Here, stranger," said a low voice, with every apparent kindness. "We'll take the weight off you. Try to keep your feet under."

 "Can he walk, Jane?" someone asked from below, already on the ground.

 "Well enough," Jane called back. Northlight was floated to the ground on many helping hands, and then the walk began. "That's it, nice 'n slow. I've got you. I'm Jane, and on your other side, that's my brother Wilbur. You're not going far, we're going to get you into the house here, this is Mrs Steward's. She's got food to spare." A door creaked, and a moment later they were deposited into a cushioned chair.

 "Good evening, friend." A new voice. Northlight thought of Kurt, but it couldn't be Kurt, could it? "I'm Doctor Featherstone. I just want to check you over, and then we'll get some food in you. Can you look at me?"

 Oh. How long have they had their eyes closed? They peel them back, wincing at the crackle of their iced eyelashes. The doctor is decidedly not Kurt Swindon. He is grey and aged, with a deep-set pair of brown eyes that show kindled warmth.

 "Very good," he says, moving his head back and forth slightly, meeting Northlight's eyes until they look away. "Can you drink? It's warm, not too hot."

 There's tea on the table. They hadn't heard it arrive. Stiff, aching hands uncurl from their instinctive fists and Northlight winces as tired, cold joints are forced into motion. They were tense on the ground for so long, trying to keep the cold away, that it hurts to relax. Tender swelling pain flares across their muscles as they do it, their shoulders worst of all. They breathe out shakily, and close their hands around the mug.

 "Steady now," the doctor cautions softly. Much more like Sam than Kurt.

 Warm, salty broth floods into their mouth, and they swallow before they can taste it, but it comes. Lean meat stock, maybe rabbit, and something herbal they can't place.

 When did this blanket get here? This is nice. Featherstone is apparently satisfied after watching them use their hands. He turns out to have just one more question. "Can you speak, friend? Perhaps ell us your name?"

Northlight swallows another mouthful with a wince. Always, words. Their life is made of words, spoken and unspoken, gathered and lost. They can give one, maybe two, today. Maybe not even that.

 They force one out. It flows like melted chocolate in their mouth. "Roa."

 "Well met, Roa. Rest now, and I'll be back tomorrow. I'll leave you with Mrs Steward."

 They nod heavily. They hope he tells Mrs Steward, otherwise she'll probably ask again. These things are never over easily. She'll be nosy, or rude, or flirtatious and demanding…

 In the end, Mrs Steward doesn't say a word. She simply sets a plate down before them with rough slices of bread, some hard cheese and a diced apple. The thoughtfulness makes them smile. The fact she added a small chunk of parkin makes it even better.

 She moves away again without speaking or even waiting to listen. Northlight waits until she's not looking, and pockets the cheese before wolfing down the rest. They can never be sure how long they have in one place like his, so kindness is best not wasted in the moment.

 Once all the food is gone, and the tea is gone too, Mrs Stewart helps them up and takes them across the street on her surprisingly steady arm. "There we are. You'll sleep with Old Mahon, he's got space since his son is in the war. He'll be glad of the company. Don't be shy."

 Northlight checks their step as they process the sweeping implications of that simple word. War. They can't begin to guess which war, but that explains the ready generosity, the loneliness and interest in a stranger, and the need to help. It explains why they've only seen the young and old so far, and married women with no husbands around.

 A community gutted by the theft of their healthy men. Northlight hates all kinds of war, but they're glad, selfishly, it's not one of the bigger ones. There's precious little kindness to go around in those times.

 Old Mahon lives in a ragged building, but when Mrs Steward opens the door, it becomes clear that the façade is deceiving. Inside is a warm, smoky room with a blazing fire, and the warmth hits like a horse. Northlight stumbles, and Mrs Steward helps them to the bed on one side of the room, where the son perhaps slept while staying with his father. Old Mahon doesn't speak, and seems to be absorbed in his miniature inferno. Someone clearly made good on the suggestion he'd need firewood bringing in for him. He's making great use of it.

 "There we are, Mahon," Mrs Steward announces when Northlight is settled on the straw mattress. "I'll leave our friend Roa with you, and be by in the morning with breakfast. You know where to come if you need me, don't you?"

 "Thank you," Mahon tells her gravely, his voice a wizened croak of great dignity. "Rest well, stranger."

 Northlight pulls the blanket up over their body, but sleep is not easily caught. It scampers away like a snow rabbit. They watch the fire, then Mahon's profile in the dancing flames. He looks sad from over here. Lonely. He must be, knowing his son is in a foreign land, could be already dead or horribly wounded, and he wouldn't know until far later. No wife, likely already gone to the grave before him. Only Mrs Steward to check on him best she can, lonely too without her man.

 "Are you comfortable?" Mahon asks, noticing Northlight's stare.

 "I am. I have many to thank many times over for how I have been welcomed today."

 Mahon grumbles a laugh. "That's as we do, here. As long as you're not Spanish."

 "No, sir."

 "Hmph. Good. Or French."

 "Not at all, sir. I speak a little."

 "So does my son, these days. Everyone's a soldier."

 "Not me, sir."

 "No, you've been and done your time, haven't you?" Mahon nods. "A wicked scar they left you with."

 Northlight feels no shame at agreeing. "I'm just glad of my life, and that of my regiment. There were five of them, you see, all from the same town, not mine but they were close-knit friends. The bravest of them was called Elana, and then there was a boy called Fletcher, he was more sensitive but the best cook you could get. The leader…"

 Spinning a tale together is an easy resting activity, and as they tell it, the image in their mind only grows clearer and clearer. They weave their vision into words, sinking into it like a warm bath, and relax their eyes, and eventually, their imagination becomes dream, and reality takes a break.

[wistwyrm]

the bitter battle at Caidie

[shardssystem]

I'm interested in Caidi (me interested in an Ooze person, can you imagine?). They have limited polymorphism, what does that mean exactly? How well can they interact with the non-ooze folk? What do they want in [waves hands] all of this?

Caidi has the ability to transform into basically anything, but they will always look like ooze, be the same colour, and be only vaguely defined. Something like this. They also can’t become anything larger than an average person, due to the laws of matter. For example, they could become an intensely dense mouse, or a person-sized elephant. The sole exception to these rules, is when they assume their “disguise” form: a copy of Kolya as he would’ve been at 16 without transitioning.

They also have telepathy, though their language is formal and stilted, having only really learned from reading. With their mental projection ability, they can allow people to see an illusory space and change it as they want. Think of like the Holodeck, for example, but if you could also change yourself.

Their desires are fairly simple: to experience more of the world (and since being made aware of it, the Multiverse), to enjoy life, and to protect Kolya where possible.

Thanks for the ask, @cryinginblaseball!

[walkingthroughfire-a]

“ if we get any more pumpkins they’ll need to close the pumpkin patch. ” — Chris to Caidy @dasmirakel

She paused as she held one of the pumpkins in her hand, still decorating the yard for the upcoming holiday. She quickly counts the number of pumpkins in the yard, then on the steps, then she looks back at Chris and smiles.

" There's only 27 pumpkins..28." she looks down at the one in her arms but there is a pause. " But that still feels like such an odd number...I think we need thirty to make it more even.." she glances around the yard as she seems to ponder.

" But you're right, I'm going overboard - I just really love Halloween. Being an October baby and all." She comes back up the steps still holding the pumpkin and she smiles to Chris.

"And it's more fun sharing it with someone."

[recklessandyoung]

Boop!

Boop boop boopedey boop!!

[strawberryloveyyy]

I need to channel my inner Halle bailey for this

[whatislovevavy]

Learning from The Best Update

Hello :) I'm almost done writing the next chapter for Learning From The Best so that should be done sometime today and then it will be given a day to edit so the next chapter should be up either tomorrow or Thursday :) Thanks for your patience

@marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts@justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink@themusingofagothicsoul @mayhemmanaged @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981  @a-beaverhausen @withahappyrefrain @hangmans-wingman  @callmemana @joalslibrary @peachiicherries @mrsjaderogers @entertainmentgal8

@jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @teacupsandtopgun

@chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @nancyxsorbet @h-ngm-ns @emma8895eb @djs8891 @novastories @urmom-999 @taytaylala12 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom @memoriesat30

@shanimallina87

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Schedule for the week of 12/10/2023 to 12/16/2023

Hiya Lovelies! Coming at you on this cold and rainy Sunday, hopefully this schedule warms your heart!

12/11/2023 - TOMORROW - A Moodboard from my 300 Follower Celebration

12/12/2023 - TUESDAY - Chapter 6 Part 1 of You Are My Soulmate

12/13/2023 - WEDNESDAY - A Moodboard from my 300 Follower Celebration

12/15/2023 - FRIDAY - A Moodboard from my 300 Follower Celebration

12/16/2023 - SATURDAY - Chapter 7 of Sweet Home Alabama 

Tagging my lovelies on the taglists for these fics:  @roosters-girl @infamous-reindeer @caitsymichelle13 @mattyskies @cosmic-psychickitty @mygyn @julesclues @greenbaby12 @bubblegumbeautyqueen @briseisgone @soulmates8 @meganlpie @captain-fandomwriter58 @caidi-paris @mazzbarnes @super-btstrash-posts @eli2447 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @faithiegirl01 @shanimallina87 @harrysgothicbitch @zombicupcake3 @atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @im-an-adult-ish @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @leahnicole1219 @djs8891 @midnightmagpiemama

[holiday-in-eorzea]

New Arrival

It started with a flash in the sky. At least, that’s what I remember. It was a normal day, in as much as normal is anymore; wake up before dawn to head downstairs and help set up the bakery, work with Elnaya to weather the morning rush, then the quiet that follows. Kolya had a rare break around midday, so we met up to spend some time together, bringing Caidi both for their company and to better enjoy ours. I might have been inhabiting an Orzhovian syndic, but luckily Kolya knew how to work out the paperwork to allow my host temporary leave while I was borrowing their body, regardless of what guild they normally operate in.

We had just received our order from the small Azorius delicatessen Kolya preferred when it happened; a bright flash in the corner of my vision. I turned to look, only to find nothing.

“Did you see that?” I asked. Kolya shook his head.

“No? What happened?”

“There was some sort of light. Just there.”

I tried to lift my borrowed hand to point, but felt a great weight on it, leaving me unable to move. My vision blurred, and I felt a dizziness overcome me, as if I had taken far too much to the drink.

“Liya? Are you...” Kolya’s words faded away, as though I had gone deaf. I felt myself starting to drift away, similar to the feeling of when I planeswalk, but not of my volition. I tried to concentrate on staying, focusing, but to no avail. The haze around my vision coalesced into a bright light as I saw Kolya stand from his chair in a state of panic before he, and the world, were gone.

When the light faded, I could see nothing but stars in all directions. A wave of nostalgia hit me; this was what traveling the Blind Eternities felt like before my imprisonment. Before everything changed. I drifted through nothingness until I felt ground under my feet. Boots, I corrected myself; I was already in a new host body. I looked down, relief washing through as a human, feminine chest greeted me. Not that there’s anything wrong with being male, or another species, but I had always felt comfortable when I was allowed to be closer to my true form. The clothes felt different, unfamiliar; I couldn’t place the style, though fashion was never a strength of mine.

A voice called out of the void, echoing in my head: “Hear... Feel...”. Ahead, a light shone, seeming to call out for me to approach. Though as I got closer, it erupted into shadow; a figure in black armour wearing a red mask emerging from the darkness.

“Hear... Feel... Think...” the voice called again, the source of light escaping the shadow and floating towards me. I felt a rush of energy, similar to when I borrowed mana from previous hosts, drawing upon my own planeswalker spark to channel their magic, but this came from without, not within. Another flare of light, and when it had receded, I was clad in plate armour of bright silver, the weight suddenly upon my frame. Instinct told me to draw my blade, though I could feel no scabbard at my hip. In the motion, light shone from my fist, forming a beautiful blade, matching shield materialising in my left hand; a combination I had unfortunately become used to in my afterlife out of necessity.

The armour-clad figure raised his arms, channeling more darkness to him. I lifted my blade in a form of challenge as he lunged heedless towards me. The training I had undertaken all those years ago while in the Abzan Houses served me well as I prepared to counter his momentum...

The jostling of a wagon and a man’s voice stirred me from a seemingly daydreaming state, though I would swear it had felt all too real. “...Hey. Hey you!”

I blinked. No longer in a void of stars, I was seated in a wooden, horse-drawn wagon. My form and clothing remained like those in the, dream I suppose, with a plain looking blade tied to my hip. Across from me sat an older man, dressed in dark blue, with blond hair.

“Y’all right, lass?” the man asked, a kind concern in his voice. “You were moanin’ somethin’ fierce for a while there.” I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I certainly didn’t mean to react like that! Though maybe it was something my host had done before I had inhabited them, as I chose to believe. Wished to, for the sake of decency.

“Feelin’ the affects of the aether, I reckon. You’ll get used to it, though, don’t worry.“

I glanced past him, looking at our surroundings. No signs of aetheric energy in the clouds or the little plant life I could spot from a moving position, so Kaladesh was unlikely. I wondered what he meant by aether, then.

I took a moment while the man looked towards our other passengers, a pair of children it seemed, twins by their appearance; one boy and one girl. They appeared to be either asleep or deep in thought. Using the familiar, practiced motion, I drew upon one of the parts of my spark that I knew was mine alone, not my host’s, and summoned my Spectral Mirror. Shockingly, the face that greeted my vision was my own! Not another’s, but mine. It had been some time since I had seen it before visiting Ecruna, and only through Caidi’s magic had I been able to since. I reached out with my mind to contact Caidi, but got nothing in return, suggesting they couldn’t hear me. Did this mean I was actually here, whichever plane this was, in the flesh? Or as a shadowkin? Tenatively, I reached my hand out into the sun, expecting a searing pain as though from Ecruna’s star, but got only a pleasing warmth. How then, was this possible? What kind of magic did this plane possess that I could be here as myself?

A call from ahead: “You there - halt!” I leant out the side of the wagon to look ahead, unprepared for the sight of a man riding what appeared to be a giant kóta adorned in barding as you would a horse. No, not kóta; what was the word... chicken. A look towards the wagon itself revealed two similar birds at the reins, not horses. The wagon itself also appeared to be held aloft by balloons, not wheeled! I could hear the man calling for his fellows to conduct an inspection as they surrounded the wagon. The older man motioned me to caution; the twins had yet to move an inch. One of the inspection agents approached the rear as the older man spoke up.

“I’m just an honest peddler, friend. So, er, ...don’t be too disappointed if you don’t find nothin’, eh?”

Then it happened: the guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag; brandishing it to his fellows. I was unsure if I was meant to see it or not.

“Sir, look! Somnus!” He was practically grinning as he presented it. I turned to the older man, apparently a merchant, ready to draw my blade in defense if things got rough, but he just rolled his eyes and shook his head towards me, indicating patience.  He seemed unperturbed by the threat of imprisonment or a fine, suggesting this was an ongoing issue he’d encountered many times before.

The faint whistle in the air was the only warning I got. Before I could react, and arrow fired into the floor of the wagon, startling everyone but the two children, still dead to the world by all accounts. One of the inspecting guards, a scout judging from his position around the flank gave a cry of “Amalj’aa! Amalj’aa! To arms! To arms!” as he wheeled his mount towards the west, attracting the attention of his compatriots. Another armoured man, being chased by three large lizard-like humanoids was heading straight for us, hoping for reinforcements. The captain spat at us, “Seven hells... Consider this a warning! Now go - all of you!” The wagon pulled away as the guards draw steel and joined the fray as our line of sight retreated, only slowing after the conflict was well-distanced.

The merchant let out a deep sigh, and I could tell he had been holding his breath. Mostly because I realised I had too. It’s always an odd feeling, having to remember how to breathe.

“You be careful 'round them Brass Blades, lass. Bastards’ll have the shirt off your back if they fancy it. Like common bandits, they are, only less honest.” I noted their uniform-style armour, and made a mental note that they must be a band of mercenaries in the area. Again, wherever this was. “We’ve got a long ride ahead, so you mind keepin’ me company?” He stuck a thumb towards the still-undisturbed twins. “Them young’uns don’t much care for conversation, see.” I nodded silently, preparing to keep sensitive information to myself until I could work out what was happening.

The man continued. “Brendt’s the name, an’ peddlin’s me trade.” He looked me up and down, with a critical eye that didn’t feel untoward, though I immediately became away of the absurdly short length of the skirt I found myself attired in.

“An’ judgin’ by your unusual garments, I’ll wager you’re one of them new adventurers.” That seemed plain enough, so I nodded. I could think of something to work into a story if I needed to protect my host’s identity. If I even had a host!

“I knew it! Goin’ wherever the win blows, seekin’ fortune an’ glory - now that’s what I call livin’! So long as you can avoid dyin’, I mean.” I nodded a little more knowledgeably this time, still trying to think of what to say without revealing too much; unwanted memories coming to mind of previous lives.

“What was it that first attracted you to it? Power? Glory? Findin’ your fortune?”

I couldn’t exactly say that I didn’t get a choice, having this life basically forced onto me by my untimely death; saved only by the igniting of my planeswalker spark, allowing my spirit to linger though my body was deceased, and seeking the freedom of exploration through what was seeming to be eternity. The merchant, Brendt, took my silence as reluctance and continued.

“Well, if you ain’t inclined to tell, I ain’t about to pry. We all have a secret or three, don’t we?” he said with a smile and a wink. I heaved a sigh of relief; I wouldn’t have to explain the Multiverse to another innocent bystander. I’d already gotten people I care about involved more than they should be in interplanar affairs.

“Just remember,” he continued, “there’s more important things than fortune an’ glory. Ain’t no profit in bein’ dead, an’ that’s a fact.” I held back an ironic chuckle. He didn’t need to know the truth of my existence. “By the by, is this your first trip to Ul’dah?” he asked, continuing the small talk. If he was trying to pry, he was doing a good job at hiding that intent; he seemed genuinely idly curious.

“Yes, it is. I’ve... heard so much.” I said, at the same time shocked and pleased to hear my own familiar voice come from my mouth. At least I could be honest with that; no need to explain I’d never heard of the place.

“It is? Well, let me give you the ins an’ outs of your destination.” He briefly detailed the power structure of the sultana and her Royalists, and the Syndicate with their Monetarists, and the Amalj’aa, the lizardfolk we had encountered on the way. Before long, we had sight of our apparent destination: a sprawling, walled city with rounded towers uniformly surrounding an impressive domed structure.

“Behold Ul’dah, jewel of Thanalan, where folk turn sand into gold!” Brendt exclaimed, making a sweeping gesture towards the city. I mentally added that to my understanding of the plane. Either this 'Thanalan' was the name of the plane, or simply a place within it.

Our wagon came to a halt on a well-worn path of stone that crossed the threshold of the walls, and a very small man with pointed ears pulled down the small set of steps attached to the wagon to allow us to exit. I’m only sure he was a man and not a child due to the facial hair. The twins finally responded to any stimulus, proving they weren’t dead or asleep, by standing and making their exit, all without saying a word or acknowledging anyone. Brendt allowed me to follow, pulling a small bag of coin to hand to what turned out to be the driver before approaching me as I took in the size of the walls. It very much reminded me of Arashin, the stronghold of the Abzan I had resided within during my time there, though this was more impressive.

“An’ here’s where we part ways, lass.” Brendt said, stretching his back out after the long ride. “I’m off to the markets to sell me wares. But here, I want you to have this - by way of thanks for puttin’ up with me prattle.” He reached into a pocket, producing a silver ring inlaid with a green gem.

“Oh no, I can’t accept this! Besides, it was nothing!” I tried to protest, but he was having none of it. He stepped away, folding his arms and shaking his head. “But I never even told you my name, and you’re giving me such a gift?”

Brendt smiled. “Here’s an idea: Become the sort of personage I can brag about havin’ met, an’ I’ll consider us square.” He gave a little wave and walked off towards the gate, leaving me in the heat, staring at the walls. I felt a twinge of guilt knowing I wouldn’t be here long. My worries deepened, as I hadn’t heard my host’s inner voice yet. Since Innistrad, I’d been pushed into a host body without my choice, but I’ve always heard in my head what it is they were wanting to do at the time, giving me a goal to work towards while I borrowed their form.

I brought the Mirror up again, and looked at my face once more. No matter which angle I looked, it was definitely me. Dispelling it, I tried one of my spiritual abilities, and attempted to temporarily dispossess this body. No such luck; it was like I was alive, firmly tethered body and soul. A mild panic came over me as I focused on picturing that little flame inside me, willing my spirit to planeswalk back to Ravnica. Surely Kolya and Caidi wouldn’t mind me changing bodies so soon. But again, nothing. I felt no drifting or fading like usual, no pull on my soul from the leylines, tethered by Nissa’s gift, or even to the resting place of my actual body, long-dead under an ironwood tree on my home plane of Melenas. I took a moment to practice the calming exercises Ji’maz had taught me during our sessions, stifling the rising panic to maintain a calm. Maybe I couldn’t planeswalk just yet; I’d heard of others needing time to recover after experiencing the strain of traversing the Blind Eternities, so maybe that was the case here. Or maybe this plane held onto planeswalkers like the Immortal Sun had, and I was stuck here. Either way, I couldn’t do much about it if I was busy losing my mind again. Once was enough for an eternity of lifetimes, and Kolya wasn’t here to help this time.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up the path towards the city of Ul’dah; my fate unclear.