#elf Whumpee

[whump-in-the-closet]

(cws in the tags)

Kinda fascinated by the idea of Whumper purposefully ruining their Whumpee.

Scarring them in places that can’t be hidden. Leaving whitened lines jagged and uneven on their face and throat.

Refusing to give Whumpee stitches, or if they do, Whumper makes the stitches uneven and jagged so they scar in the worst of ways.

Finding out what Whumpee likes best about themselves and destroying it.

They’re proud of their nose? Whumper breaks it and leaves it to heal crooked. Proud of their hands? Whumpee finds they’re missing several of their fingers.

Whumpee used to considered book smart. Whumper gives them so many concussions that reading hurts. Or better yet, they make them forget how to read entirely.

An elf Whumpee having their ears cut into a rounded shape to look more “human”

An elf Whumpee who’s always had long hair has it roughly cut off and kept short.

“I never wanted an ornament. I wanted something to ruin.”

[nat-1-whump]

🌿 Whump for elves

Fantasy whump ideas no. 4

(Note that I'm going with the stereotypical foresty elves, but they vary a lot by setting so don't be afraid to play around with them. Sorry for basically disappearing for weeks. I just graduated high school and it was... a time. I'll start working on more writing prompts soon! 💖)

Longevity is a curse. Elf Whumpee can live for hundreds or even thousands of years. Everyone they care about, they will outlive. So, they avoid getting too close to people. The less you love, the less you grieve. Their long lifespan also means that they can suffer for a very long time, perhaps captured by an immortal Whumper who even they cannot hope to outlive. Maybe Whumper doesn't even reveal that they're immortal, so Elf Whumpee spends decades waiting for their captor to die before realizing that it's not going to happen.

Ears. Elf Whumpee is super sensitive to sound. Whumper uses this to their advantage, blasting their eardrums out with a whistle only they can hear, maybe using it as a way to control them in public. Their ears are also a very obvious indicator of their nature. Maybe they've had to chop them off to disguise in a place that is not kind to elves. Every now and then they trace the scarred edges of their ears, wishing they could have them back, but knowing they never will.

Connection to nature and magic. Elf Whumpee has a special connection to those things and the place they call home. Deprived of it, they feel themselves withering away like a flower in a dark room. Maybe they were captured and brought to a lifeless land of concrete and metal. Whumper taunts them by putting wires and metal pipes in ceramic flower pots around Elf Whumpee's cell.

Alcohol. Elf Whumpee has little to no alcohol tolerance. They try a pint of strong Dwarven alcohol at a party and end up a crying, shaking mess on the bathroom floor. Everyone is laughing at them and they feel incredibly sick and embarrassed.

Loneliness and isolation. For whatever reason, elves are strongly looked down upon in society. Elf Whumpee has a hard time getting close to people when nobody wants to be seen near them. Or, their own pride keeps them distant from others. Either way, they have nobody to rely on. When they get hurt, they have no choice but to seclude themself, their hands shaking as they try to treat it alone. Maybe their injuries get worse and they have to drag themself to go beg for help, but nobody will listen.

[chaotic-orphan]

A Benignant Mischief (6)

Read part one here

Continued from here

Hahahhh I finished it finally! I love my boys so much, they fill my heart with so much joy :;) @annablogsposts this obsession is all your fault! I need to make a masterpost for this... anyways, ENJOY!

*~*~*~*~*

They rode in silence back to the Kingswood as one of the soldier’s had called it. Cosimo had scrunched his nose up at that name. How can a woods be owned by a King? Nature was its own master. Besides, there wouldn’t be Elfbows there if the original inhabitants of the forest were humans. No, Cosimo had the sneaking suspicion that this was the forest Henrik had told him about in his story of Niko’s father.

Cosimo remembered his tutor, one of the Elder Elves, telling him about the histories of their people. How they would live in harmony with nature, together as one, both giving and taking in equal measures. How the humans would come like an invasive species and only ever take… upsetting the balance of the earth to build their soulless cities and castles and nature be damned. Animals be damned.

“Nothing is sacred to humans, Cosimo,” Ludwig had told him. “They are selfish creatures. They would sacrifice anything to satiate their own greed.”

Cosimo’s eyes had gone wide at Ludwig’s cautionary words. He spoke them with such hatred that was foreign coming from the teacher’s mouth. Ludwig was patient, kind, compassionate — so hearing him speak with such malice, it struck a chord within Cosimo that echoed now in his mind and his chest. Jarring, eerie and wrong.

Was he making the right choice in leading the humans to the boy that Cosimo was trying to protect? Was there any way he could possibly distract them? Sneak off and find the boy and the fox and run?

Nestor’s laugh made his chest ache, as he floated into the memory without Cosimo’s permission. Nestor and his happy-go-lucky grin. After he heard Ludwig’s take on the humans he joined the conversation, leaning down heavy on Ludwig’s shoulders. Cosimo remembers smiling as the Elder rolled his eyes.

There was only one elf who would do such a thing.

“Ah, Ludwig. You are scaring the boy.”

“I am merely teaching,” Ludwig said, the hatred gone from his voice as he straightened his spine and grabbed Nestor’s arm lifting it from around his neck. “You should know better than to interrupt.”

“Always good to be a little nosey,” Nestor said, lifting his eyes to meet Cosimo’s and winking at him. “Eh, Cosimo?”

Cosimo’s smile grew into a cheap copy of Nestor’s mischievous grin. “You should know better than to fill his head with such nonsense, Nestor. Not all elves have the freedom to be as carefree as you.”

“If he’s learning the bad he can learn the good of the humans too, no? About their music? Their art? Their love, Ludwig.”

“The boy is but a child,” Ludwig hissed, glaring at Nestor. Cosimo swallowed as Nestor’s smile fell from his face. Ludwig stood to his full height, turning his body slightly to stare at Nestor down his crooked nose. “It is better he be cautious around humans than seek them out for no good reason.”

Cosimo’s heart pounded in his skull but he couldn’t just sit by and watch Nestor be scolded. “I would never do such a thing, Ludwig.”

The two elves turned their head to look at Cosimo who was standing now too, head high, chin up, determined. “I heed your warning. You’re my teacher. I want to learn from you, and from your experiences. What reason would I have to leave court in search of humans? I have everything I need right here.”

Ludwig cocked an arched brow at Cosimo’s words, a begrudgingly proud tightness wound his jaw. “You are too smart for your age, Cosimo.”

“That’s because he has an ancient elder schooling him,” Nestor said with a cheeky laugh, slapping a hearty palm onto Ludwig’s back. “I’m heading out on a reconnaissance mission today.”

“To the humans?” Cosimo asked, ignoring the scolding glance Ludwig sent his way.

Nestor scrunched his lips up. “Sort of. More like, seeing them at a distance. If they’re close to the court we can disguise it better or hide it well, make sure the humans don’t disturb us and just walk past the court.”

“You should go do it then,” Ludwig told him. “Let me get on with my job.”

Nestor hummed sagely, nodding in agreement. “Yes. I agree. Cosimo remember to frown when he speaks so he knows you take him seriously.”

Cosimo laughed as Ludwig shoved Nestor away playfully in reply. “Get out of here.”

“I’m gone.”

Cosimo stared after Nestor who waved before disappearing from sight. Ludwig settled back down, sitting once more and gazed up at Cosimo. “What is it, boy?”

Cosimo swallowed, snapping himself out of his daze and sat back down across from Ludwig. “I just wonder what reconnaissance missions would be like.”

“If Nestor’s anything to go by, clearly it drives you mad.”

Cosimo smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I mean being that close to humans.”

Ludwig’s gaze was heavy on Cosimo’s face, studying the young elf’s features. His high cheekbones and shrewd eyes, always busy, always calculating something behind them. It wasn’t the first time Ludwig had been left out of Cosimo’s musings, but even so… he wanted to know what the boy thought. How his mind worked. But that wasn’t Ludwig’s job.

“We resume,” is all Ludwig said. Cosimo blinked and he was staring at Ludwig, focused once more. He nodded and shifted in his seat, clasping his hands together in front of him. “We resume.”

The memory left, leaving a sense of uneasiness in its wake. Maybe Ludwig was being over-cautious, sometimes he was like that.

And the humans only ever treated us with kindness, a sarcastic voice hissed in the back of Cosimo’s mind. Take off the hood and see their true colours.

Cosimo ignored the voice and focused on the task at hand. They were amongst the trees now, coming close to the camp. Maybe another twenty minute ride.

“Everything okay, Cosimo?” Henrik asked. Cosimo took a deep breath. Everything seemed too big right now. Too much for him to grasp between his fingers and wrestle under his control. All he needed to do was find the boy. Once he saw him, he would be fine. Everything will be fine.

“I just want to find my brother,” Cosimo told Henrik, careful to remember that’s what Cosimo had told the King and his right hand. A lie. He had told them a lie, and when they found out… what would they do to Cosimo then?

When they arrived at the camp Cosimo’s heart jumped into his mouth, remembering the events that happened here yesterday? Today? That brought him back here. How Henrik was the one who kicked him to the ground and kept him there. Cuffing him, bringing him to the palace… it turned Cosimo’s stomach.

Henrik climbed off Ebony behind him, and Cosimo lifted his leg over the saddle to slide down himself beside Henrik. He brushed the hood back off his head, the earth under his feet feeling like a sigh of relief. Nikolas came over to the pair as someone led Henrik’s horse away to be tied off.

“Well, Cosimo,” Nikolas said with a sweeping gesture. “Lead the way.”

Cosimo nodded, searching for the stream he had crossed. He prayed that nobody had been through here since he was. No elf, nobody who came looking. Let the boy be there.

He crossed the stream first, then looked over his shoulder to the King and his right hand. He straightened himself, shoulders pulling back, making himself taller before speaking. “Would it be okay if I went and retrieved the— my brother before I introduce him to all of you? He might be frightened.”

Nikolas tilted his head slightly, regarding Cosimo with his discerning green eyes. Nikolas pursed his lips. “No, Cosimo. I think it’s best if we find him together. What if you get lost?”

Cosimo scoffed. “I’m an elf. I can’t get lost in the forest.”

“All the same,” Nikolas said with a kind smile and a little shrug. Cosimo swallowed and faced forward again, gathering his discarded water container and walking up the slippery bank to the trail on top. He was so close… he could run, the likelihood of the humans catching him was slim. He could disappear in the trees, come out when they had given up looking for him. The boy would be safe in the Elfbow.

Unless the elves started looking for him too. The thought unsettled him more, in which case he would be better off with the humans. So Cosimo planted his feet even though he wanted so badly to run. He had to remember who he was, he wasn’t some scared boy. He had to trust his instincts, they got him this far. Everything would be fine.

“I could do with your long legs,” Nikolas said to Cosimo with an airy laugh as he climbed the bank.

“Or maybe it’s the lack of shoes,” Henrik mused, nodding at Cosimo’s bare feet. “It gives you more grip.”

“Perhaps you humans should whine less,” Cosimo said with a smirk, which only grew when the two humans full attention was on the elf. “It seems to weigh you down more, makes you slow.”

Henrik laughed his deep heart chuckle, and slapped Cosimo between his shoulder blades playfully. It was Nikolas who spoke next: “You lead the way from here, Cosimo. Hopefully we can find your brother before dark.”

Cosimo’s smile dimmed a bit at the edges as he bowed his head slightly. “Of course. This way.”

They trekked in silence back the way Cosimo came, the trees and trail familiar, the forest floor almost guiding him to where he needed to be. Cosimo prayed that the boy be okay. That he’s safe. That the elves didn’t find him and take him back to court or worse.

When the elfbow came into Cosimo’s sight he took off into a run. “There!” Henrik and the King’s footsteps thundered behind as Cosimo ran through the thick coat of leaves with ease. He craned his neck around the tree, chest heaving to see the fox in the nook, cuddled up beside the sleeping boy. Sweat soaked hair clung to the boy’s forehead and he looked far more pale than the last time Cosimo had seen him.

“Cosimo?!”

Cosimo pressed his forehead against the elfbow under his palm and closed his eyes in relief. Thank you. I’m here to take him again.

“Cosimo?” Henrik called from faraway. “Where are you?”

Cosimo’s eyes shot open. Humans couldn’t come into the sanctuary of the elder trees. Elfbows served elves and were almost sacred in their protection. After the humans started destroying forests to clear way for cities and villages, the elder trees made a pact with one of the first elves: that if the elves protected the tree then, it would serve as protector for future generations. Or so the story went.

The court elders always made a point of telling Cosimo that if he was ever lost or scared to find an elfbow and he would be safe from humans. It only occurred to him then, that he could just hide with the boy here and Henrik and Nikolas would never find them.

The humans wouldn’t find them, he reminded himself. Elfbows don’t protect elves from elves. A smaller voice, a childlike voice in the back of his mind continued: and who are you more scared of?

“I’m here,” Cosimo called back, unsure if they would be able to hear him. “He’s here, he’s alright. I’ll be just a second.”

The fox tilted her head as Cosimo entered the small nook, and watched silently as Cosimo hooked one arm under the boys neck and the other under the boys knees and lifted him from the soil and blanket of leaves. The boy was cold and covered in a thick sheen of sweat that made Cosimo’s heart race.

Surely the humans could heal him, they could fix him. Do something! They would know more. The fox chirped at Cosimo’s heel, bowed into a deep stretch her tail swishing as she stood. Black beady eyes peered up at Cosimo and he understood that she was asking: what now? Even if he wanted to, Cosimo couldn’t dissuade the fox from following and protecting the boy. Foxes were far too cunning to be tricked by a young elf.

The boy was far more lifeless than ever, his chest rising shallowly. Cosimo didn’t waste anymore time in the Elfbow’s protection. He emerged from under a sheet of leaves to see Henrik and King Nikolas with their backs turned to Cosimo.

“Here,” Cosimo rushed out, voice hitching as his feet carried him quickly across the distance to the two humans he decided to trust. Even though this could all be a farce, Cosimo was desperate. The fox pattered along behind him.

The humans turned at the sound of Cosimo’s voice, eyes drawn to the half alive boy in his arms. Henrik rushed over went to take the boy out of Cosimo’s hands but Cosimo turned at the last moment, wide panicked eyes meeting Henrik’s stunned gaze turning sympathetic.

“I have him,” Cosimo said, tone clipped. Henrik straightened, nodding.

Nikolas was the one to move them along. “We need to get him to Artzet immediately.”

“Will he be able to fix him?” Cosimo asked, following the humans back through the forest to the camp.

Henrik leaned into Nikolas and said quietly: “Niko, did you—”

“Yes,” Nikolas replied quickly, cutting Henrik off. He glanced over his shoulder at Cosimo, but the fae had his eyes and attention fixed solely on the unconscious boy in his arms, expression tight with worry. “Now’s not the time, Henrik. We can talk more once we get the boy back to Artzet.”

“Did you see the fox?”

Nikolas laughed, low and rich. “Yes. I saw.”

“Do you think it’s coming along too?”

“I don’t think we could dissuade it even if we tried.”

Cosimo was oblivious to the conversation ahead of him as he carefully stepped down the bank of the stream and hopped it effortlessly. The fox padded along beside him, not even faltering when they emerged into the humans camp.

“Come, men,” Nikolas called to the camp. “We are to be off as soon as we ready the horses.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Soldiers milled to action. It was a smaller party than Henrik was with so within minutes they were packed and on horseback again.

Henrik stood beside Ebony and held his arms out to Cosimo. Cosimo’s sharp eyes cut into Henrik, narrow, untrusting. Henrik tried to look as reassuring as possible.

“You can’t get on the horse with him in your arms, Cosimo. Don’t worry, I’ll give him right back.”

Cosimo worried his bottom lip before nodding with a sigh. He passed the boy to Henrik’s strong arms and hesitated before releasing the boy. He quickly climbed up onto Ebony and held his arms out for the boy again.

Henrik’s smile was kind and reassuring as he passed the boy up to Cosimo before mounting the horse behind them. The fox sat in front of Ebony’s snout as she grazed, beady black eyes peering up at the elf.

“Will the fox be joining us?” Henrik asked.

Cosimo nodded. “She will walk behind. I don’t think she’ll mind the distance.”

“Still, it is a long way to go for such little legs,” Nikolas said coming to a stop beside them. “Will she let me carry her?”

Cosimo looked at the fox who tilted her head at him. A silent understanding passed between them, and Cosimo nodded.

“Yeah, she’ll let you pick her up.”

“Come on sweet thing,” Nikolas said, crouching and extending his hands to her. The fox walked towards him, sniffing his hand before plodding up to him and letting herself be lifted. “Oh, she’s so soft. I think I’ll ride with her beside you, so she can still see you both.”

Cosimo nodded. “Of course.”

Nikolas did just that and then they set off out of the king’s wood back to palace, Cosimo holding the boy tight to his chest. Henrik put the hood over Cosimo’s head before they reached the city gates, the cloak partly obscured the sleeping boy’s face, the other pressed into Cosimo’s chest.

Nikolas had one soldier ride ahead and tell Artzet to prepare a bed for the unconscious boy. They didn’t stop for chats with villagers this time, the air of urgency within their ranks must have carried outwards because no one stopped Nikolas for a catchup as they raced through the streets. Hooves clapped like thunder with steady, rhythmic beats as they passed the village to the wealthier residential area and finally the gates of the palace came into view.

“Just hold on,” Cosimo whispered, tightening his hold on the boy as they trotted to the stables. Henrik dismounted quickly, spreading his arms for the boy. Cosimo hesitated, again, but he didn’t have time to waste. This was life or death and Cosimo vowed he would keep the boy safe. They had come too far to risk it all over Cosimo’s feelings.

Cosimo had just passed the boy to Henrik when Nikolas appeared beside them, fox at his heels. Anxiety at not having the boy close crawled thick up Cosimo’s spine along with a sudden warm feeling as he jumped off Ebony. He had only begun to take a step towards Henrik when his vision swam with an impenetrable darkness. The world swayed and his body became like lead and he was falling.

A warm chest caught him before he could make contact with the ground. Cosimo let out a startled gasp, hands reaching up to hold onto the solid person that kept him upright, his body shivering as strong hands wrapped around him, reassuring.

“It’s okay, Cosimo,” Nikolas told him. “You’re okay. You’ve had a very long day.”

“The boy—” Cosimo mumbled, his tongue heavy as he tried to push his legs to work properly so he could stand on his own. An elf leaning on a human… what would the Elders think?

“We’ll get him to Artzet, as promised, dear boy. Henrik will carry him—”

“No.”

“Yes, you can barely stand. Don’t worry, you and I will head up together. Henrik and Artzet will take good care of him.”

Cosimo wanted to protest but there was no time. Instead he fought back tears as he nodded meekly. “Okay.”

Nikolas nodded at Henrik. Henrik turned on his heel and within seconds disappeared into the palace. Cosimo turned in Nikolas’s hold, one hand fisting the fabric of the King’s tunic in a stranglehold to keep standing. He only stopped when he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Nikolas. Nikolas wrapped an arm around Cosimo, the other ready to catch him if he tried to make a move.

“Easy, Cosimo.”

Cosimo risked a step forward. He would have fallen if it wasn’t for Nikolas’s strong arm holding him up. Cosimo let out a breathy curse in elvish, frustrated at his temporary weakness. He needed to get to Henrik and the boy. He needed to make sure they didn’t do anything bad to him. What if they locked him in iron cuffs? What then?

Something scratched the back of his brain but Cosimo didn’t have the energy to focus on it or give it the light of day.

“Just wait a second, Cosimo, it will pass. Your brother’s not going anywhere.”

The air around him was thick and clammy, like there was no actual oxygen getting to his lungs, as if he was inhaling tiny amounts of iron with every breath. He wouldn’t put it past Rochus to do something like that, poison the air while Cosimo was away.

Nikolas reached over to Ebony’s saddle bag and pulled Henrik’s waterskin from it. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Cosimo took it from Nikolas, unscrewed the bottle and drank it down. The cool liquid was soothing and refreshing as it went down Cosimo’s throat and he found the more he drank the more he wanted to drink. He finished the container of water and opened his eyes, already feeling a ten times better than before.

Nikolas grinned. “Better?”

“Yes,” Cosimo said, handing him the empty water-skin. “Much better. Can we go to Artzet now?”

Nikolas laughed and shook his head fondly. For a short, heart-stopping moment Cosimo thought the king shaking his head side to side meant no, and Cosimo’s mind conjured up the worst.

“You are a determined boy, Cosimo.”

Cosimo felt his cheeks flush pink as he stepped forward, trying to hide his reaction from the king. Nikolas stepped with him until they got to the railing on the stairs. Cosimo let go of Nikolas’s arm and placed all his weight on the railing. He could do this. He could get to the boy. He was so close to saving them.

Once they were up the stairs Nikolas led Cosimo, arm in arm, to Artzet’s clinic. Cosimo almost cried when he saw the boy, something in his arm that connected him to a bag of water. A damp cloth over his forehead.

Myshka was sitting on one bed over, observing Artzet as he worked. Henrik greeted them. “Ah, you’re here. Good.”

“Is it serious?” Cosimo rushed out.

“No, no. Boy is good, strong, healthy of heart,” Artzet replied, smiling at Cosimo over his shoulder. “He will make full recovery.”

“He’ll be okay?” Cosimo whispered, not willing to believe his ears or eyes or anything as he walked with heavy feet to the end of the boy’s bed. The fox was laying there, curled up at the end of his bed and made a noise of recognition when Cosimo approached.

“He will be fine, boy,” Artzet said again, looking to Henrik and Nikolas with a shrug. “I thought that is what I said?”

“Cosimo’s had a long day,” Henrik said. “The two of them both need some rest.”

Cosimo didn’t dare blink in case the world would trick him and make the boy disappear. He couldn’t sleep, not until the boy woke up. He had to make sure the boy was okay. That he didn’t doom them both.

“You say boy is your brother?” Artzet asked, eyes as wide as an owls. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. Did he catch him in a lie?

“Good,” Artzet said happily. “Then I know he will be okay. He will be as strong as his big brother, uh? Now, I set up bed beside him for you to sleep.”

Cosimo glanced up at Artzet and nodded fervently. Nikolas made a noise behind him. “Cosimo, I think a proper bed would be better. Hospital beds are uncomfortable—”

“Niko,” Henrik said softly. Nikolas sighed. Cosimo turned to look at the King. His shoulders sagged as he yielded.

“Okay. Fine, I know I won’t convince you otherwise, but Cosimo, the minute you and your brother are better you—”

Nikolas cut himself off as Cosimo crossed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the King, squeezing tightly.

“Thank you,” Cosimo whispered. Nikolas let out a soft, shocked breath of a laugh, wrapping his arms tentatively around the elf.

“It’s my pleasure,” Nikolas replied as Cosimo stepped out of his embrace. “I will go and prepare your rooms. Artzet, I leave the boys in your capable hands.”

“Your majesty,” Artzet said with a bow.

“I’ll stay too,” Henrik said, patting Cosimo’s shoulder. “Until you’re asleep.”

“Full house!” Artzet cried, drawing the covers back on the bed beside the sleeping boy’s. Cosimo walked over to it and climbed in, thanking Artzet and Henrik as he pressed his head to the pillow. Artzet and Henrik started talking in low, hushed voices while Cosimo watched the boy’s chest rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall.

Alive and safe.

Cosimo did it. He rescued them. His eyelids suddenly grew heavy and Cosimo didn’t fight them as they slid over his eyes, darkness welcoming him like an old friend. Sleep took him somewhere far away, somewhere he didn’t have to think and worry and fret. Somewhere he didn’t betray his race and seek refuge in humans.

Henrik stayed even when he was sure the elf was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling softly. He looked so much younger when he was asleep, Henrik thought, without the hard crease between his brows. His jaw wasn't clenched, his face relaxed, no stubborn, steely gaze to contend with. He looked like a boy, a human boy around fourteen years old.

Already Henrik had developed a protective streak for the elf, wanting to comfort and care for him as much as the elf would allow. More than the elf would allow. The fondness in Henrik's chest for Cosimo wasn't the only recent feeling that had taken hold of him since he met the boy. There was something foreboding, unnatural, as if there was a presence watching him from somewhere unseen to the naked eye, and Henrik knew that Cosimo's presence here would only spell trouble. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to let the boy go now that he had met him. He still had so many questions to ask him; why he ran, who he was, will he stay?

All those questions could wait until Cosimo and his brother awoke. For now, Henrik pulled up a chair and rest his head against the backrest, content with watching over the newest residents of the palace.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll call (zee tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @tippytappytyping

[erdarielthewhumper]

oops my hand slipped, have my girls again for a change

[rizzoto-whump]

@whumpawoman​ whump girl summer day 4 - Stress Position

@juneofdoom​ day 10 - Shackled

CW: Bruises, blood

[a-walking-human-disaster]

"Be Human"

Prompt Credit To @whump-in-the-closet! Amazing person. Prompt Post Used: Elf Whumpee

CW/TW: Possible Gore, Noncon Body Modifications, Imprisonment Also contains mentioned starvation, implied neglect of needs (like lack of water I guess), and past torture. There is also a description of throwing up.

Enjoy! - This is my first attempt to write whump, so sorry if it's bad.

Contains: Elf Whumpee & Human Whumper

❝You draw too much attention with those,❞ WHUMPER hissed as they stood outside the cell.

The cell door clicked open, and WHUMPER entered the cell, grabbing WHUMPEE by the wrist. WHUMPEE barely reacted to the action, limp as they were dragged out of the cell. They did not even have the energy to fight back even if they wanted. WHUMPEE's arm burned as it was pulled across the hard stone ground, with stray rocks stabbing them in the ribs.

Scars and bruises covered their body as a constant reminder of what happened in the past when they tried to fight back. Their deprived and starved form was not hard to move around due to the lack of weight. They let out a couple sounds of pain from their dry throat that ached with each soft sound that escaped their cut-up lips.

WHUMPEE was tossed forward into an empty room with nothing but a dirty floor. WHUMPER locked the door behind them, crouching down to WHUMPEE. They grabbed them by their hair, yanking their head onto their lap. WHUMPEE just whimpered silently as they watched WUMPER with wide eyes.

WHUMPER pulls out a jagged knife, pressing it against the base of WHUMPEE's right ear, "I've been meaning to remove these eyesores. You do not deserve any extra attention."

WHUMPEE feels their heart drop as they used some of the last strength they had to struggle. They did not want to even think of what WHUMPER had planned let alone feel it in action. WHUMPER clicked their tongue as they wrapped their free hand around WHUMPEE's neck, just enough to prevent movement.

The knife slowly was dragged upwards on the edge of WHUMPEE's ear, making them shake violently. WHUMPER grinned as they applied some pressure on the knife. It slowly started to break through the flesh, WHUMPEE shutting their eyes tightly. Tears started to burn in their eyes but they tried to blink them back. WHUMPEE did not want to give WHUMPER the satisfaction of seeing them cry.

WHUMPER starts to pull the knife back and forth through the flesh, using it as some sort of saw on their ear. The blood began to soak the side of WHUMPEE's head, dripping down the neck. WHUMPEE shifted and squirmed only to let out sounds of pain since WHUMPER would apply more pressure to the knife with every movement.

Once WHUMPER was done with the first ear, WHUMPEE's neck was stained with blood, and the top of their shirt had some red stains as well. WHUMPER pulled the remains left off, wiping the blood off their hand onto WHUMPEE's shirt.

"Stop fighting me, you're just making it harder for both of us," WHUMPER grumbled as they moved WHUMPEE to access the next ear. WHUMPEE was crying from the pain, on the verge of blacking out from the blood loss. As WHUMPER began on the next ear, WHUMPEE could feel their stomach twisting as their vision blurred. WHUMPER had barely broken through the outside of the ear with the knife when WHUMPEE passed out. from the pain and blood loss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

WHUMPEE woke up in their cell, clothes, and neck still covered in their dry blood. They reached up to their ears, with some effort. Their ears were rounded, the flesh still bleeding out slightly and raw. Tears were already streaming down their cheeks as they processed the information.

Their stomach flipped as they curled up, hands grasping at their ears. The bile clawed up their throat, their mouth-watering. They tried to keep their mouth shut, refusing to let the bubbling liquid out of their mouth. But the feeling of fresh blood staining their fingers made them gag, and they lost the battle.

The bile slipped out their mouth, coating the ground in a clear white liquid. They hacked it up for a minute, leaving them curled up holding their stomach. Not only did their ears hurt but now their stomach ached. Their head was rested against the wall, smearing some blood on the crumbled stone wall.

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

672 Words According To Google Docs. Thank you for reading! And thanks again to @whump-in-the-closet for letting people use their prompts!

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Day 24

Fight, flight, or freeze

Fandom: Original work (Illian and Varian)

Characters: Illian, Varian, minor other OCs

Tw: drugging, killing (don’t worry, they deserved it and it was in… self defense?)

Summary: (Occurs later in Illian and Varian’s friendship). Varian made a mistake, and Illian suffers the consequences. He deals with this the only ways he knows how to: Fight, flight, and lastly, freeze.

Varian knew from the moment his ‘friends’ figured out Illian was an elf, things were going to go badly.

And maybe he was selfish for doing this, but getting killed on the spot for being a traitor wasn’t on Varian’s agenda. So instead of speaking out, he agreed.

Of course he wasn’t Illian’s friend. Of course he was simply trying to get the elf to let his guard down. After all, Illian’s capture would give them an opportunity to learn where the elf settlement is.

Varian felt so sick.

He felt even sicker sitting at the table, pretending everything was fine. A mug of something was placed on the table in front of him, and he sipped it slowly, trying not to seem too terrified.

Illian seemed even more uncomfortable, sitting ramrod straight between the two soldiers. His ears twitched, the only part of him betraying anxiety. He hadn’t spoken at all, having gone mute again.

A mug was placed in front of the elf, and Varian watched as a pinch of yellow powder was slipped out of the soldier’s palm, dissolving in the drink.

Illian didn’t seem to notice.

He paused for a long moment, before taking a small sip.

Time passed, and the mug was drained. Varian watched closely.

Illian began to relax, slowly at first, but eventually enough that a small smile fell over his face. His eyelids drooped a bit, face flushing red as his usually slitted pupils dilated.

He leaned against one of the soldiers, head lolling like he couldn’t keep it up.

“Let’s go get some air.” Kadell said, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. The soldier winked at Varian, and he forced a smile though the dread and panic building in his gut.

Illian gave a slow blink, not seeming to register the fact he was being pulled to stand.

Varian had never seen the elf look so… relaxed. Even when unconscious from blood loss, or resting alone by the fire, Illian always had this guarded look. Somehow he was always alert… except for now.

Illian leaned heavily against the two humans, tripping over his own feet. He didn’t seem to mind, dazed expression still plastered on his face.

They had known they would never be able to overpower Illian at full strength. He was an elf after all. But like this, drugged and vulnerable, Illian wouldn’t stand a chance.

They reached the edge of the town (which wasn’t that far away from the tavern), where the cobblestone path merged to dirt and the trees loomed in.

They weren’t like the trees in the elven forest, sparser and without the distinctive vines and plants.

Kadell’s grip on Illian shifted, tightening slightly. Varian saw a flash of rope as Kadell prepared to bind Illian’s hands.

…Fight.

And in an instant, Illian’s entire demeanor changed. He snapped upright , using his head to bash against Kadell’s nose, flinging the soldier’s head back and up with a crunch.

Kadell went down, eyes rolling back in his head.

Varian stumbled backwards, unsure of what to do, watching with wide eyes as Illian moved in a blur of limbs.

Finally, the three soldiers were down, not breathing.

And Varian felt nothing but relief.

Illian stood with his back to Varian, panting slightly. He reached down and grabbed his cloak from the ground, then straightened, once again deliberate and graceful.

The elf turned to face Varian, and the human stifled a sigh of relief.

Illian’s pupils were still dilated, though that could easily be attributed to the darkness of the nearly-unlit path, especially given how focused and alert his gaze was. He still swayed a bit, but it was a far cry from the dizzy, half-awake way he had leaned into the soldiers earlier.

Illian’s face was no longer flushed red, instead retreating back to his usual rosy touch telling of recent exertion.

“Illian?” Varian asked tentatively, and the elf looked away without speaking. “Are you alright?”

…Flight.

Illian turned away, scampering away from the little glow of the street lamps and into the patch of forest by the path. He moved quickly but jerkily, trying to get as far away as possible from Varian before his inevitable collapse.

“Wait!” Varian called, running after Illian. The longer the elf ran, the more lethargic his movements got. He nearly stumbled on a tree root, before vaulting onto a branch. He began to scale the tree, scrambling up the branches in near desperation.

Maybe twelve feet up, Illian slumped over to lean onto the tree trunk.

Varian caught his breath at the base of the tree, part relieved he had been able to catch Illian, part worried that the elf hadn’t immediately lost him in the trees. Looking up at Illian’s still form nestled in the branches, Varian began to climb.

…Freeze.

Expecting Illian to be unconscious, it was a (welcome) surprise when the elf’s green eyes were open and alert. He tracked Varain’s movements, but made no attempt to get away, unmoving, frozen.

“Illian?” Varian finally said once he was settled on the branch. “Were you running from me?”

Illian looked down at the ground. “You can’t see me like this.”

“Like what?”

Illian shivered under the cloak, eyes shutting for a moment, before opening. They were beginning to go glazed again. “I’m barely holding it together.” He admitted quietly.

“So, were you faking being so… out of it back at the tavern?“

“Some. I felt the effects, but it was my choice to go along. Easier to wait for their guards to be let down when I was already… impaired.”

Illian’s words had begun to slur, and the elf gave a small groan.

“Talk to me.” Varian pressed, worry seeping into his voice. “What are you feeling?”

“Fuzzy.” He murmured, eyes rolling closed, words becoming slow and slurred. “Think… I’m… gonna pass out.”

Varian reached out to try and steady the swaying elf, but Illian managed to pull himself back to sitting, shaking off Varian’s hand.

“Don’t… move… I’ll be alright. Metabolize drugs… faster than humans.” He blinked, green eyes dilating and constricting in a conscious effort to focus, but didn’t say anything else.

Varian sighed softly. “I knew I shouldn’t have told those bastards you’re an elf. I thought maybe they’d understand.” Illian grunted in acknowledgment, unfocused gaze sliding over Varian’s face as the human continued speaking. “I’m sorry I brought you to the tavern. I just didn’t know what to do once they made it clear any human who was friends with an elf would be excecuted for treason. I had to pretend I was your enemy. I had to!”

Illian blinked again. “‘s alright.”

“No it isn’t! Look at you, you look terrible! They drugged the ale and I just let them! How much of it did you drink?!”

Illian shrugged. “Enough… to make it… believable. Realized… it was drugged… about… halfway through. Started… feeling dizzy.” He mumbled. “Just though I could… ignore it. Didn’t want to… draw attention…”

He trailed off, slumping to the side.

Varian reached out, grabbing Illian’s shoulders before the elf could fall. Illian flinched back, eyes snapping open as he snarled, baring his teeth. Varian quickly released the elf, letting Illian press himself back against the tree trunk with an animalistic hiss.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Varian backed away slightly, staring wide eyed at the elf curled in on himself. A chill ran up the human’s spine as Illian glared at him, his breathing coming quick and erratic. The elf’s face had flushed red, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide.

“Go. Away.” Illian growled, recognition flooding his gaze as he slightly uncurled himself.

“No.” Varian refused to move. “I’m staying.”

Illian stared silently.

“I’m staying. Until you’re ready to move.” Varian would be fine (he had time until the bodies were discovered, enough time to get himself an alibi), and for now, all he wanted to do was make sure Illian was alright.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Illian nodded slowly, eyes closing as he leaned back against the tree.

“Thank you…”

It was hours until Illian moved again, but Varian waited in the tree with him the entire time.

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 11

“We’re out of time.” | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline

CW: royal/fae whumpee, bleeding out, collapsed lung, open ending

“…out of time…going to die if we can’t heal him…”

The healers’ whispers filter briefly through the haze of agony surrounding the elf prince’s mind. He knows he’s dying. His body is screaming it to him.

“…so much blood…bleeding out quickly…barely alive—”

Can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. His back arches as he struggles for air. Help me. I can’t die here.

He can see himself lying on the bare ground, feel himself slipping as his blood flows from numerous lacerations marring his skin. The healers are doing all they can, their magic surrounding their prince in a faint golden glow, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough to reverse the destruction that the monster inflicted on him.

“Highness, please…stay with us…” The magic intensifies, and the healer’s hands start to shake.

Don’t let me die here. Outside his body, fighting for breath and soaked in his own blood, the elf prince pleads into the void, his voice silent.

I must live…to save my people…save them from—

His mind is swallowed in darkness as, finally, the bleeding stops.

[splendidissimus]

November 1999 - "You're doing it to yourself."

((Content warning: sleep deprivation, hallucination, abusive parent))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 2: Delirium ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: negligible

Angst level: 5/5

Draco's headspace: depressed / passive

((words: ~1000))

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

Draco had been staring through the same page of a book on his desk for some time, the words drifting around unsteadily while he didn't even try to comprehend them, when a familiar voice gnawed at the edge of his attention. He raised his head, blinking, trying to pinpoint it.

Just as he resigned himself to giving up and started to drop his head again, there it was, under the sound of the rustling book pages. He could swear he heard Theo calling his name. 

"Theo?" He pushed away from the desk and stood stiffly, rubbing his aching shoulder. He wasn't supposed to be here. It was months since Father made them part ways, and he would be furious if he caught him here. But coming back against explicit orders and implicit threats just because he wanted to sounded exactly like something Theo would do. Theo who had shown up at the gate calling to see him despite the Death Eaters in the house. Theo who bartered with him in public over kisses because it made him forget he was ill.

He didn't think he heard an answer, but he had to find him before someone else did and send him away where it was safe. 

Outside his door, he paused, listening, but didn't hear him again, so he went for the stairs, figuring he would be downstairs somewhere.

He didn't hear Theo again; he spent a while checking, but there wasn't any sign of him, and eventually he started to wonder what he had actually heard. 

It felt too exhausting to go back upstairs immediately, so he ended up staring out the bay window at the garden. There was a young peacock there, scratching at the edge of a flowerbed, shining white in the watery sunlight. He watched it for a while, not thinking anything, but vaguely relaxed. 

A shifting in the shadows caught his eye, and he was trying to focus on it when iit suddenly resolved into Nagini — striking out with lightning speed to seize his peacock. "No!" He hit the window like that could stop it. 

Then between one blink and the next it was gone. The peacock was looking up at the window in cautious alarm, but there was no snake. 

And of course there couldn't be, anyway. Nagini was dead, he'd seen the body and the head spread across the Hogwarts lawn. She was as dead as her master. He knew that. 

"What are you doing?" 

His shoulders tensed at his father's voice behind him. He wished he had a good answer. "I apologise," he said properly, turning around and looking toward his father's feet.

"That wasn't the question."

He stole a glance back toward the window. Still no undead snake. The peacock was ripping down a flower with its talons now, to try to get the fairy sitting on the top of it. "I thought I saw…" Nothing. He clenched his hands behind his back. "I think something's wrong." He dragged the words out past a mind that didn't want to say them, looking back at his father's face. "I keep seeing things that aren't possible." 

His father studied him. "Like what?" 

"I thought I saw Nagini going after the peacock. Or heard… somebody… in the house." 

"The snake is dead, and no one has been here."

"I know." 

His father came closer to look out the window, then looked him over, studying him for a long minute. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Not that long," he said quietly, but his hard eyes demanded an answer. "I think Friday," he admitted, even more quietly.

"For Merlin's sake." His voice was sneering and his expression impatient. "If you haven't been to bed in five days, of course you're seeing things. You're not ill, you're doing it to yourself." 

Draco didn't respond. He didn't have any excuse. He looked into the middle distance, his father's words sinking in without resistance.

The lack of reaction seemed to be even more irritating. "Am I supposed to believe," he snapped, "that you need a nurse to tell you not just to eat, which you've obviously not been doing, but also to sleep now? You are a grown man. Even toddlers know to go to sleep when they're tired. Do you need to be told to use the lavatory too?"

He continued to stare impassively, until his father grabbed his jaw and lifted his face, forcing him to answer the rhetorical question. "No," he said, insides crawling with shame. 

"What a positively minimal accomplishment." He threw down his face. "Elf!"

Tolly appeared beside his foot, cringing a look up at him. "Master?"

"Until further notice, Draco's bedtime is ten o'clock. You will put him to sleep at precisely that time, regardless of where he is or what he's doing."

"Don't," Draco pleaded quietly. 

Finally getting a reaction gave his voice an edge of satisfaction. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," the elf squeaked promptly. "Tolly will make sure Master Draco sleeps." 

"Good. Shall we have her feed you as well?"

"No." 

"No? Are you certain it isn't too much responsibility for you?"

"Please." 

That display of submission seemed to mollify him. His father didn't respond, but walked away with contempt dripping from his voice. "Grow up." 

Tolly vanished and swiftly spirited a tea tray into the window to try to make Draco feel better. 

Draco didn't move. He stood there in front of the window, staring at the floor, fighting off every physical reaction he wanted to do. He wanted to mess with his hair, grab his head, clench his fists — he carefully took all of it, all of the energy behind those urges, and pushed it down, down until it was buried and he didn't react at all.

[clickerflight]

The Price of War - Part 1: Field Medicine

Author's note: New storyyyyyyy! Below I have tagged all of my active whump story taglists including the story I just finished so people can see if they're interested in reading this story. If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments or sending in an ask. You will not be tagged in future parts unless you tell me you want to be.

Masterlist

Content: Elf whumpee, minotaur carewhumper, manhandling, abdomen injury, fantasy racism, passing out

.......................................

Alo’ad huffed, falling back behind the other members of his war party. He wasn’t as big as them, so keeping up with them was harder after hours of trekking through the thick woods while the elves attacked them over and over again, trying to get them surrounded. 

Due to the leader of the party, Underar, having superior wood lore under his belt, they had made it this far relatively unscathed. In fact, they had the elves on the run now which was the only reason Alo’ad allowed himself to slow down. That and any other minotaur that was hurt could slow down and get some healing from the half-taur now that it was safer to do so. 

Alo’ad stretched his arms, looking for Taurs that had fallen behind or collapsed because of an unnoticed injury. 

He smelled blood in the air and snuffled, trying to find it quickly. It smelled dangerous, whatever wound it came from. 

He ducked his head a little, his short horns brushing under a branch as he stepped through the last of the tall grass in the clearing. 

The tree the branch belonged to loomed overhead, and at the roots sat a man. A small elf, thin and willowy though as short as any of his kind, clutching at a deep wound in his abdomen. 

The elf’s eyes went wide, long ears tipping down and pinning in his long pale hair as he drew in a short breath. 

Alo’ad moved quickly, grabbing the elf by the face and gently pinned his head to the tree. The elf whimpered, Alo’ad’s hand, while smaller than a full Taur’s hand, was still big enough to almost entirely cover the elf’s face. 

Alo’ad looked over his shoulder, making sure he was crouched far enough that no one in the war party would be able to see him. If the elf was heard or spotted they would take him back to camp to interrogate him. They wouldn’t torture him, but it would be torture as his wounds  would be left unattended. And he would die before he could tell them anything interesting. 

No, that would be a waste of life, and Alo’ad had been taught by his human father, against Taur culture, that life was endlessly valuable. Even that of the enemy. His mother had rolled her eyes at such claims, but she never stopped old Hesikaia from teaching their son such things, a soft look in her eyes as she watched her husband do so. 

Alo’ad reached into his pack, ignoring the elf’s scrambling fingers, slick with blood, on his wrist. 

He pulled out a small satchel full of poultice soaked pads and pulled one out, gently tugging the elf’s war tunic up out of his belt before applying the pad to the wound. 

The elf tensed under his fingers, small hands grabbing at his wrist, though he was no longer fighting back. 

Alo’ad didn’t dare make much noise, so he leaned in and whispered, “Please be quiet. If they hear you, you will be taken prisoner. Understand?”

The elf sat there frozen before tapping twice, the common sign for yes. 

Alo’ad released the elf’s face, who took a deep breath, eyes wide, but he did not scream. 

Alo’ad nodded and turned his attention to the wound, lifting the pad to check the damage. It was deep, but it did not smell of bile like it would if any organs had been ruptured. 

The half-taur grunted, happy enough as he replaced the pad, grabbing the elf by the upper arm to lift him away from the tree, reaching into his pack for bandages to wrap around the elf’s stomach. 

The elf squirmed a little, opening his mouth, but one stern look from Alo’ad quieted him. 

The elf stilled as Alo’ad finished wrapping the bandages, pinning it with a long thorn from a plant in the underbrush near the tree. 

The elf looked very strange indeed, sitting there with the bulky bandages meant for a minotaur wrapped around his middle. 

“Why?” the elf whispered in accented common. 

Alo’ad tilted his head a little. He just gave a little shrug. “Stay here,” he whispered. “I will find you a staff.”

He got up to hunt quickly through the forest for a stick for the small elf, looking up at branches with his knife in hand to cut one if he found a sturdy enough branch within his reach. 

………………………….

Bettelenian watched in amazement as the half-taur left to look for a staff. He rested a hand on his bandaged stomach, still trembling in the aftershocks of fear. He had been certain he was going to die when he looked up from his wound to see the enemy standing in front of him. Laying wounded, out of energy entirely to cast any spells, far away from the horses he trained and cursing the reckless decisions of his peers that brought him here, he thought he was going to die. 

When the half-taur had moved, quicker than a horse striking out with its back hooves, Bettelenian was sure he would wake up on the other side, wrapped in the robes of the dead, but instead he had only been slightly smothered as the half-taur messed with his wound. 

Bettelenian had been stupidly lucky. So very very lucky. He should have died, really. He had been thrown from his horse, upset by the attacking Taurs and difficult terrain and some Taur had managed to stick him, leaving for dead in the grass, a sneering face imprinted in Bettelenian’s head. He’d crawled to the tree before he’d run out of energy entirely. 

And here he was, patched up by a half-taur. It looked as though it were true that the human blood in any species made them softer. Maybe even foolish. 

Bettlenian shuddered at that thought. Now was not the time for blood snobbery. Really, he should be on his hands and knees thanking whatever human helped create this man who had come to save him. 

He heard a cracking of branches behind him and he turned his head to see the half-taur coming back, a sturdy branch in hand, tucking a huge knife away. 

His huge hand encompassed Bettelenian’s whole shoulder, hauling him up more than helping, giving him the staff and holding him until the dizziness had passed from him. 

“That way should be safe,” the half-taur said, pointing into the woods. “I will make sure they do not search this way for a while. Here.”

He pulled out a small bottle with something white and pearly inside. “Take a sip of this.”

“What is it?” Bettelenian asked, trying to hide his disgust. 

“It will give you energy to get back to an elven camp,” the half-taur said. “Take only a sip. It’ll feel like a kick to the chest.”

“I’ll do without,” Bettelenian said, trying to take a step away, but he was so tired his hands slipped on the staff, sending him to his knees. 

The huge enemy crouched by him, a huge hand on Bettelenian’s lower back, clearly able to grab him all the way around if he wanted to. The bottle was shoved under Bettelenian’s nose. “Take it.”

“No! I won’t have a barbarian’s brew! I-”

Something angry flashed through the half-taur’s eyes and he grabbed Bettelenian by his long hair, pulling him back and putting the bottle to his lips. 

The potion dribbled like honey into Bettelenian’s mouth - a bitter, numbing honey - sticking to his molars as he haltingly swallowed, and then the bottle was ripped away again. 

“Go,” the half-taur said darkly, pushing Bettelenian back up and shoving the staff into his hands. 

Bettelenian gasped as energy slammed into his body, indeed feeling like a kick to the chest as his heart pumped quicker and his urge to run kicked in as powerfully as it did when he found himself at the end of a spear. 

“Go,” the half-taur growled again. “May my father’s brewing knowledge carry you from here after the insult you gave to it. You are lucky I chose to let you go to live with your people instead of dying among mine.”

Bettelenian stumbled away before turning and fleeing as fast as he could, heavily using the staff as he did so. 

…………………………………………

“Alo’ad!” Underar called as the healer came back to meet with the other Taurs. They were setting up camp, laughing and singing together as they celebrated their victory and even Underar’s blood swam with the alcohol he had allowed himself to share in. “There you are! Where were you?”

“Likely finding a river to clean off in!” another Taur called. Kiadhi grinned at Alo’ad in a friendly, teasing way. “Just like your father, hey?”

Alo’ad rolled his eyes, though it was clear he had found a water source of some sort to clean off as he was somewhat damp and no longer smelled of the chase or war. “Perhaps, but you want your healer’s hands clean if he’s going to be digging around in your organs.”

“Only if the healer is in camp in the first place,” Underar said, a little bite in his tone now. “You were gone for a long time.”

Alo’ad shrugged, muscled shoulders rolling in a sleeveless tunic. “I was tired,” he admitted.

Underar scowled, stepping forward and putting a large hand on Alo’ad’s small shoulder, leading him away from camp as the Taurs who had been paying attention went back to their celebration. 

“Alo’ad,” the leader said softly. “You told me that you could keep up with us. If you have lied for the glory of running with the herd, I can understand that, but-”

“No, it’s fine. I can keep up. I just need longer breaks,” Alo’ad said firmly. “I have not slowed you down yet, and I do not intend on slowing you down in the future.”

Underar looked Alo’ad up and down, judging the small half-taur’s words before nodding. “I believe you, Alo’ad. Try to rest closer to the camp, understand?”

“I understand,” Alo’ad replied, nostrils flaring with some relief. 

“Good. Come join the celebration. We will need your voice to sing the victory chorus.”

……………………………………….

Bettelenian stumbled into an elven camp as the moon began to rise, the potion worn off now. He had no idea who’s camp he was in, but he wanted to cry in relief. 

He called out in pain, falling to his knees, his staff clattering to the ground. 

A tent near him lit up with mage light and soon elves were running to him, helping him up and calling for a healer. 

Bettelenian forced himself to stay conscious through pride alone as he was taken into a tent, a healer, wearing the symbols of the second highest order, pulled back his tunic only as far as necessary to deal with the injury. 

“These aren’t elven,” he said, confused. “What happened out there?”

Bettelenian opened his mouth to answer, but the Lord of sleep was already coming for him, taking his vision before carrying him to rest. 

Part 2 - Coming soon

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list

[whump-in-the-closet]

a concept, if you will: an elf/ nonhuman whumpee with pointed ears. Whumpee is a prisoner in the human-inhabited parts of the land and their ears are the most noticeable aspect about themselves. Whumper takes matter’s into their own hands by carving Whumpee’s ears to look more rounded. It’s only to make them look more human after all. There’s no medication, no pain relievers, just the glint of the knife and Whumpee’s wide-eyed terror.

[auroragehenna]

Ai-less Whumptober

Day 27 Paranoia

CW/TW: Aftermath of torture, seasoned whumpee, wlw flirting (gasps)

Word count: ?

Did that person just stare at her? The one that looked like an elf. It was hard to tell with the hood on. But her features somewhat resembled hers. Please not, she already finished a job today. But usually people don‘t spend their free time here outside, why else would she be here, her head whispered. No they actually do, this is freaking garden, get it together. Was that a blade she saw glinting in the dusk light? Yes, that‘s also normal. You also carry multiple. The world is a dangerous place you know. My point. Shut up! Over there‘s another person! Shit! Was this a trap?! Did she walk into another trap?! Not again. Wait did the lighting just change?! No, I don‘t think so? Fuck the girl is coming here. Shit, shit, shit. Tierney clutched her hidden blades and went though her spells in her mind.

„I’ve never seen a wallflower this pretty.“, the girl said. Sitting down next to her, with a bit of space and leaning back on her arms and hands. „Are you doing alright thought?“

Tierney looked at her absolutely baffled. Still clutching her hidden weapons. But this wasn‘t a behaviour she encountered before. We can‘t trust her! Before she even really processed it her hand shot down onto the grass, fingers digging into the soil. „I‘m fine. What are you up to?“, she asked still suspicious.

„I’m up to a lot, but not tonight. Tonight is just about the grass between my toes and the stars above my head.“

Tierney looked at her. Her eyes seemed to light up with something deeper. Something more emotional. Before she sighed and started to speak again: „Listen if you‘re here because of my reputation or to kidnap me just say that I‘m done with games.“

„Kidnap you?“ she asked with confusion written all over her face. As her face relaxes again she follows up with: „The only games I play have the goal of relieving idiots from the burden of heavy pockets filled with money.“

Tierney finally relaxed a little bit again. Her other hand eased it‘s grip on the knife and freed it out of it‘s hiding place. She casually lowered her hand with the knife onto the grass and used the other one to release your arms. She nearly smiles a little. „Well I can‘t really judge that.“

„The guards think otherwise“ She laughed. „I know a beautiful place a bit south from here, close to a park, and great view of the city.“

Danger! „I uhm.“ Fuck it, if this is another job then I might as well do it. And if it‘s not then? Uhm… „Yeah, why again?“, she asks confused.

„It’s my safe spot. I thought I share it with you if you need a place to escape reality for a moment“ she smiles. „I‘m Nalani by the way.“

„Tierney. Okay. But no funny business.“, she adds earnestly.

„You can just tie me up with flowers, if you don’t trust me“ Nalani giggled

Tierney smiled a little bit. „Indeed I can.“ She got up on her feet and watched the girl do the same. „Alright. Show me.“, she hesitated, „I would like to see it.“

„would you like the scenic route or walk among the peasants, my lady.“ Nalani snickered, while over exaggerating noble etiquette.

Tierney raised an eyebrow at her. „Typically I like to take routes that have more nature and less people, fair lady.“

„That means we drop the fancy talk and jump from rooftop to rooftop“ She grins before she skillfully jups up the closest building.

A grin also widens up on Tierney‘s face now. She focuses on the fluffy ears on her head until her whole body morphs into one of a cat and follows you up to the rooftop before starting to morph back. But halfway through she get‘s stuck and ends up somewhere in the area of a cat and her own self. She rolls her eyes and balances on her footballs for a few moments. At least it will be good for climbing and jumping. I just hope it won‘t freak Nalani out. But the girls seemed fine and so she followed her over the rooftops through the town.

Nalani giggles a bit as she sees why the tiefling had fox ears beforehand. „I hope as part fox you can keep up with me!“ She yells cheerfully.

Tierney tsk‘d. She wasn‘t yet sure if she liked this weird stranger and she certainly wasn‘t sure if she could trust her.

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Taglist: @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @ailesswhumptober

[chaotic-orphan]

Could you write a story where a king who outlawed magical beings (like fae, elves, sorcerers, etc Bc they’ve tried to kill him multiple times ) has a trial for a young magical creature found in his lands, but the creature isn’t evil, didn’t even KNOW they were trespassing, and is terrified they’re gonna be executed or tortured or something. But the king doesn’t hurt it, since the magical being didn’t mean any harm? Could turn into found family or he just lets it go or something

Love ur writing!!

A Benignant Mischief

@annablogsposts THIS ASK HAS CONSUMED MY EVERY WAKING THOUGHT SINCE I GOT IT! IN THE MIDST OF FEBUWHUMP NO DOUBT! THE GALL, THE NERVE!!!! I must say, this idea has taken hold of a good chunk of my brain and I have just been obsessed with Cosimo and Henrik (who will be introduced in part two), I hope you love them as much as I do. There is far more than this part written, but I had to divide it up to get some of it published so you didn't think it was just collecting dust in my inbox.

Thank you so much for this ask, it has rekindled an obsession with writing plot that isn't exclusively whump?! If that makes sense. I hope you enjoy it!

*~*~*~*~*

Cosimo ran through the forest with a sharp urgency, an unconscious boy cradled close to his chest as he went. The rain pattered down on his head as he ran, bare feet clawing at the ground to keep his grip. To an onlooker he could have been running on plain terrain instead over the wiry and rough forest, leaves slick with water; as if he were one with the Earth; knew every root, every nettle and broken tree bows that he hopped over with graceful ease.

His sharp eyes searched the forest frantically, pleading for a shelter to open up to them. Ahead was a wooden fence, tree branches crisscrossing before him like a blockade. Cosimo bowed his head and turned to the side, curling his upper body around the smaller one in his arms. Branches snapped and scratched at him as he pushed his way through with a determined resolve.

When he finally emerged from the branches, he found what he knew would be waiting for him. A small burrow made in a circle of trees, an opening in the trunk of a thick elfbow tree, the size of three fully grown oaks. A shelter mercifully presenting itself. Cosimo let out a soft sigh and whispered a soft thank you to the forest for providing.

His limbs grew heavier and heavier the closer he got to rest, but he walked on, slower now but just as strong as he was when he set out from court. He lay the boy in his arms down on a bed of leaves for the moment under the shelter of the elfbow. Cosimo touched the trunk as he entered, his heart feeling full as he did.

“Thank you protecting us,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the entrance. Then he pressed his knuckles against the unconscious boy’s forehead, letting out a soft sigh. He was okay. Not as hot as he was before. Cosimo would gather food and herbs tomorrow to help the fever, but at least he was stable for now.

Cosimo took off his pack that he had hastily gathered from home. Two blankets, two pillows, a canteen of water, a hunting knife — just the essentials.

“The very bare necessities, Cosimo,” Cosimo chastised himself with a sigh, running a hand through his soaked hair flicking the rain from it. Cosimo put a pillow under the boy’s head and wrapped him in a blanket to keep him warm. Cosimo sat with back against the trunk of the tree, arms wrapped around his knees that he hugged to his chest and just watched the rain patted down on leaves outside the elfbow. The gloomy grey of the evening bled into a darker, broodier grey but the rain let up before night fell with its coat of deep purples and midnight blues.

Cosimo didn’t know at what point he fell asleep, but he woke to footsteps cracking the leaves beneath its feet and he was immediately alert. His hand shot and grabbed the hunting knife, unsheathing it and lunging forward teeth bared.

He came face to snout with a fox that was frozen in place, brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s with a slightly dazed and stunned glimmer to them. Cosimo let out a breath that reflected on the air with a rolling wave of smoke, before settling back into the nook-like shelter of the elfbow. The fox didn’t retreat, instead he sniffed the air and timidly took a step towards Cosimo and the unconscious boy beside him.

Cosimo inclined his head slightly and the fox entered the elfbow with all the inquisitiveness of a cat trying to sniff out the source of fish. The fox turned his head to the boy, and glancing back at Cosimo quickly for permission he curled up on the unconscious boy’s chest. Curling into a little ball on top of him, deep brown eyes meeting Cosimo’s again before closing half-lidded.

Emotion clogged Cosimo’s throat as he reached out to pet the fox, allowing the animal to sniff his hand before allowing the affection.

“See?” Cosimo whispered to the air. “You’re not nobody. You’re like me.”

Cosimo didn’t sleep exactly, but he at least got some semblance of rest before Dawn broke and he woke with it. He looked down at the sleeping boy, who was still asleep, the fox now curled up to the boy’s side. Cosimo reached his hand out and brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead to feel it.

He was warm, not too hot. Maybe the fever had passed with the rain? Cosimo didn’t know enough about it, but he knew the rejuvenation powers of rain that came with him so he suspected maybe it could be the saviour of the boy too.

Cosimo drank some water from the canteen before grabbing the empty rucksack he took with him and slinging it over his shoulder across his body. He took the water and the hunting knife and set off about the day. When he exited the elfbow the sun was only starting to rise, birds heralding the morning.

Cosimo looked back to the sleeping boy and the fox. He pressed his hand to the tree and leaned his forehead into the back of his palm.

Protect them, please. I’ll return with food.

Cosimo felt the rush of feeling that flooded him when he felt around nature. Then he turned and walked out of the small clearing and into the embrace of the forest again. He remembered hearing running water when he was running with the boy, the sound distinct from the patter of the rain.

The dense woods were not nearly as imposing as they were the night before, when Cosimo’s thoughts were on finding shelter and nothing else. There should be some mushrooms nearby he could roast, maybe some berry bushes if he was lucky and water. Not enough to feed them properly, but to sustain them? It would be enough.

Cosimo found the stream under a thicket of leaves. It was slightly lower than the ground that Cosimo was on, so he simply extended a leg and slid down the bank to the stream, opening his canteen as he went. His feet settled into the damp earth, and he crouched down to refill the canteen. Not before drinking the last of the remaining water.

He heard a huff from his left so Cosimo glanced towards the sound and saw a horse lapping up water from the stream. Cosimo froze like the fox had the night before, before kicking himself into action. He sprung up, canteen forgotten in the stream and bolted back up the bank, his fingers clawing into the clay.

He scrambled to the top and was met with a pair of legs. There was a flash and a pressure on his chest and Cosimo was airborne, gravity grabbing at him and bringing him down hard into the outer bank of the stream. Cosimo let out a gasp of air on impact but quickly sprung to his feet and turned to hop the stream to the other side.

A hand grabbed him by the strap of his rucksack, and he was yanked backwards. “Hey! Wait!” Cosimo cried, bringing an elbow back sharply and his head back too. He slipped under the strap of his bag and grabbed the hunting knife and hopped the stream with ease. He didn’t look back.

Humans were bad. They killed people like him, there shouldn’t even be any for miles around!

Cosimo climbed up the opposite bank of earth with deft speed and hoisted himself to the other side, knife ready in one hand, the sheath in his other with one thought and one thought only — to go back to the boy in the elfbow.

He didn’t account for more soldiers to be on the other side of the stream. Cosimo froze again when he was first recognised by another man. They were all fully grown humans. Cosimo had yet to pass his fifteenth year, at least he had a slight boost in height, but he was too skinny to fight.

There wasn’t time to think before a hand was bunched in his shirt again. Cosimo whirled on his heel, slashing out blindly with the knife. The blade cut into the soldier’s cheek Cosimo realised with wide eyes, and the Soldier let him go. Cosimo fell to the side at the sudden lack of force holding him, but quickly got his bearings again and ran to the right of the soldier’s camp.

An arrow whizzed by his ear, startling him and Cosimo lunged to the left only to be caught with a kick to his leg. Cosimo stumbled but remained standing, turning to his new attacker baring his teeth only to get a punch to the face. Cosimo’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell, stiff as an oak onto the forest floor.

A boot stomped down onto Cosimo’s wrist wielding the knife and Cosimo cried out, reaching over with his free hand to paw at the boot but it wouldn’t budge. A knee to the chest followed and Cosimo cried out, trying to wiggle himself free but the human was too heavy. Whether his weight was from his diet or the weight of the uniform of metal that the man wore Cosimo didn’t know.

“Well, well, well,” the human man remarked. Cosimo swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling to free himself from the man’s pin. “You’re only a baby, aren’t you?”

Cosimo bared his teeth in response. They were so close to where Cosimo had left the boy and the fox, and he prayed that the elfbow would protect them from the soldiers.

“Let go of me,” Cosimo demanded, eyes blazing up at the man. The man smiled, something wicked twinkling in his eyes.

“Have you run away from home? You do know what we do to your people in these parts, don’t you?”

Cosimo let out a cry of frustration at trying and failing pathetically to free himself from the man’s grip.

“Please,” Cosimo said. “I don’t mean you any harm. I was just coming for water.”

“Won’t do harm my arse,” the soldier that Cosimo cut ground out, fury winding his features tight. Cosimo didn’t see him lift his leg, but his head whipped to the side with the impact. Cosimo righted his head too early as the man he injured stomped a foot down on Cosimo’s face.

Cosimo heard the bones in his nose crack inside his head while he screamed out loud, a quiet whimper following after his scream died in his throat.

“Hey!” The soldier pinning Cosimo growled. “You can’t kill it. They must be brought to court before their execution.”

Execution?

Cosimo’s struggles to break free renewed at the thoughts of the soldiers taking him away from the boy. “No! No, you can’t! I can’t leave the forest, please!”

The man above him tilted his lips down into a frown. “Sorry kid. Orders are orders, we have to bring ya in.”

“Don’t talk to it like it’s a child,” the angry soldier scolded. The man on top of him reached over and plucked the knife from Cosimo’s grip. Cosimo let out a soft whine at the object of his defence leaving his grasp.

“Just get the irons and let me deal with h—” the man above him said, then corrected himself, glancing down at Cosimo with a frown. “It.”

The angry man stormed off out of sight. Cosimo just stared above at the man still pining him to the forest floor.

“Please…” Cosimo tried. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Like I said kid,” said the man. “There has to be a trial in front of the king.”

Cosimo’s eyes widened significantly. There wasn’t a king for miles around court… how far had Cosimo travelled, and in what direction? The question lingered on his tongue, and he wanted to voice it, but thought better of asking the enemy… or even worse, letting them know just how clueless Cosimo really was.

The man stared down at Cosimo with a stern glance. “I’m going to get you to sit up, if you try to escape, we will catch you, and the other soldiers will hurt you again. Do you understand?”

Cosimo nodded. He hated himself for it, but he had to listen to this man. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t want him dead at that moment. The angry soldier returned with two bands of metal attached together with a thick link of metal between them.

“What— what are they?” Cosimo asked, his voice cracking with fear. The soldier helped Cosimo to sit up which caused a wicked amount of pain in his nose to flare up and Cosimo grunted with the effort.

The man took the metal from the angry soldier and dismissed him with a wave. The other soldier didn’t want to listen but obeyed the man when he told him to go verbally.

The man opened the metal loop and showed it to Cosimo, saying with a reassuring smile: “They open like this, see?”

Cosimo leaned in closer to inspect the metal. “What do they do?” He asked, a little less scared at seeing them up close. The man lifted his hand and put the metal over his own wrist.

“They tighten over your wrist like this, see? They lock— well, they essentially keep your hands tied behind your back so you can’t hurt someone again.”

Not have use of his hands. Cosimo shook his head vehemently. “No. No. I won’t hurt anyone else; I promise. Don’t put them on me.”

The man’s smile faded back into a frown. “I’m sorry, but I have to. Please don’t fight me. I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Cosimo was trembling in the man’s hands, but he nodded his consent for the man to grab Cosimo’s wrist. Cosimo screamed when the metal touched his wrist and bolted back away from the man.

“Wait! Please! Please! Wait! Ow, please! I won’t hurt anyone!” The man caught Cosimo’s ankle before he could get further away from him and dragged him back. “Please don’t. Please! I’ll be good.”

A shadow crossed the man’s face as he grabbed Cosimo’s arm and pulled it behind Cosimo’s back before locking the second cuff around Cosimo’s wrist.

Cosimo let out a hiss as the metal burned a circle around his wrists, tears coming to his eyes. “Please, I’m sorry. Take them off. I’m sorry. What— agh! What is it?!”

The man grabbed Cosimo’s arms to stop him struggling more and hurting himself. “Iron. It’s a metal that is poisonous to your kind.”

“Please,” Cosimo whispered, the plea coming out soft and childish, fat tears trailing down his cheeks. “Please take them off.”

“I can’t,” said the man. “I’m sorry,” and it sounded like he meant it. The man then got to his feet and waited patiently for Cosimo to do the same. Cosimo pushed himself up, his balance going off and he hissed as he moved his hands to catch himself. All they touched was iron and it burned. The man put a hand under Cosimo’s armpits once he saw the boy struggling and helped him into a standing position.

“Thank you,” Cosimo said, the words like ash on his tongue. Thanking humans now? What would court think of him? His mind trailed back to the boy in the elfbow and guilt flood his body as he was pushed forward gently by the man.

“Change of plan, boys. We are bringing this one back to the King.”

One of the other men stood up, his face the shape of a weasels; small wisps of hair clung to his upper lip and chin in what Cosimo could only assume was supposed to be a beard and a moustache. The soldier lifted his nose high in the air when he looked up at Cosimo, grinning up at him and revealing yellowing teeth.

“It’s not even fully grown,” said the soldier with a high-pitched voice. The nice man holding Cosimo scoffed and pushed Cosimo forward again.

“Either are you, McClagen.”

“Does it know that we kill things like that?” McClagen sneered. The man didn’t reply, but Cosimo’s fate weighed heavy on him, heavier than a cloak made of stone. He frowned as the nice man led him passed the other Soldiers readying to take off again.

—

Continued here

[erdarielthewhumper]

For @whumpers-monthly's this january's prompt! A bit shorter this time bc I haven't really had a lot of writing juices recently, but eh, it's whump nonetheless!

When the arrows began to fly, the first one hit Meldie. She never had the time to notice, to react, to attempt to protect herself. One moment, she was riding along near the back of the caravan, half-dozing in the saddle, since it wasn't her watch. The next, pain like a lightning bolt lanced through her.

Before she knew what had happened, everything was already exploding into chaos. She tried to draw her sword, but pain flared up through her right side and her arm. She glanced down; an arrow-shaft stuck out of her side, just a little below and in front of her arm, sunken into the part of her that her breastplate could not protect.

Even so she grasped her sword, and urged her horse to ride down the nearest enemy, striking at others with her blade. Her warrior's instincts led, the noise and chaos drowning out any conscious thought.

Pain was nothing new, and easily pushed aside. The only way out of the battle was through, in any case. She half-forgot about the arrow as she hacked through enemy after enemy.

But though her mind could push the injury aside, her body could not. Second by second, it was harder to breathe, harder to lift the sword, the edges of her vision were getting blurry, the sounds of battle distant and distorted.

Again she lifted her sword, but this time the movement jerked her out of balance. Someone grabbed a handful of her hair, and she cried out, but hardly a sound came from her mouth. The cry turned into a cough, she tasted blood, hardly even noticing as she was pulled down from the saddle and crashed into the hard, frozen ground.

She lay there, dazed, as the battle raged around her. All she could do was gasp for air and cough, each cough bringing up thick ribbons of red blood. The world was a blur of color and movement and incomprehensible noise...

No! she would not die here! Some last part of her mind struggled to rouse her, grasping desperately for something to hold onto, but it was all it could do to hang onto the last remnants of consciousness.

The pain had melted away, it was dull and distant now, but the tightness in her chest hadn't gone anywhere. It seemed she could hardly draw air into her lungs, and she felt, vaguely, that it should have worried her, but she could hardly bring herself to care...

There were voices, above her, and movement in her fading vision, but she could make no sense of it. She was grabbed by the arms, and that finally sent another jolt of blinding pain through her, and that, finally, dragged her down into darkness and oblivion.

[enigmawriteswhump]

Whumptober 2023

Safety Net | Swooning | How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up

No: 1

Evanshi closed her eyes, even while she was the last of her tribe who should be trusted with meditation. And yet here she was. Curled legs, a simple, relaxed posture. But that thrumming energy couldn't sit still, her anxiety confined to to all but the flexing of her toes.

Why did Modar have ever believed she had potential in this area of study? To converse with the living and the life? To hear words of rippling bark, if one knew just right. Not heard, but to sit and know the yew tree behind her was whispering of fellow dangers, of orangisms trespassing against their roots, or leaping from arm to arm with little claw marks left behind. A remnant of the wood's passengers.

To be able to feel the sensitivity of the dark cylinders of bark, curled around the unscavenged center... To be able to feel the herbal remedies between each root, and know which fungus grew - just on the way the breeze flowed. To read the earth as if she were also a sapling, taking root and sampling what this earth had to offer.

Bogus. The lot of it.

Modar had never wanted her to succeed.

Evanshi let her hands slide from her lap, the bitter smile hard to keep away. This, these small strands of grass beneath her - all she could feel was the tickle against her soles. Not some hocus pocus druid magic. Still a fresh wound, knowing the truth; knowing she disappointed her mentor even now.

"Did you find it out here? What you were looking for?"

His voice caught her insidiously, and she startled, whipping her head around.

A low snarl ripped from her throat.

Evanshi felt the trill of fear, even as she rose lithely to her feet, light on her toes. Ready to pounce, or dart away.

"Catch you off guard?" Kazian's grin slipped through his nocholance. The long, beautiful wings curled outwards slightly, an expression of his proposed boredom.

She didn't believe it, not with the glint in his eyes.

"Why must you make me do all the talking? You sound like a rabid animal when you refuse to speak." he managed to step closer, while grimly inspecting his sharp, unbitten nails. Near talons, except for chipped nature of them.

A warrior clothed in littered, unspoken secrets.

She narrowed her eyes, unwilling to bite back. His baiting meant nothing, even if her pride prickled even so.

Evanshi knew the wise move was to kneel without flare, to snark back with a hint of sharp banter, wait for his hand to come and lift her head. To lean into the tenderness and pretend her feelings weren't flooded with his touch.

That she would be saved his game, if she bared her teeth threateningly, he would see a smile.

Her lips moved back, scowling.

Kazian huffed, rippling his wings in a flutter of irritation.

"If you are not being the elf I knew you were, we must treat you like the prey you've become." his lips retreated in that snarl, the look he gave her oppressive as he roamed down her body.

"Now run. Run," he took one more step, and his wings lifted, a bronze cloud blotting her light.

"Run, before they get you, little fox." his eyes darkened, and the playful spark dripped into ominous cruelty, "Run, for when I get you, you surely will not be able to reply."

***

Her attention snapped to the beat of her heart, like Isbasal's fastest fire-drumming, branches underfoot crushed as her passage erupted harmony.

Dipping between branch after branch, a silent fox as she could be, apart from the almost-humanoid howls which followed her. His favourite game - chase, hunt, kill.

She had naively assumed he wouldn't let his ire consume him. But with each wide wing-beat above the forest, the very real trickle of terror slipped down her legs. No, no, he couldn't - he was waiting for something. He had been for months!

She couldn't die like this, a head on a table, blood which dripped onto his curling nails as her eyes stared lifelessly above. She couldn't be the leg bone his heathens drank from. Not now. Not when she had been so brave. Had hidden her terror for so long.

"Oh Evanshi! Where have you hidden my little one?" his voice bellowed from above, a laugh crackling through the treetops. By Silas he'd suddenly sounded much closer!

Her mouth forced a wheeze of panic, her time confined unused to such a sprint. Each breath had too little air, each step sent a spiralling spike to her side.

Oh by Silas' crooked blessings, there was the tree!

With a last step, Evanshi pushed herself to the bark of the tree, inhaling moldering earth, and willow's green fingers ticking her neck.

Her fingers moved into the threads of hundreds leaves, her strings of fate as she tested their weight.

A stem of one snapped and she bit back a breathy curse, even as air trailed from her mouth and the appendage landed against her wrist.

These Willows were not the ones of home. She didn't have time to pinpoint the location of pain that sparked at the knowledge, but evaluated the hulking girth of the trunk.

Just maybe...

She was no acrobat, but even with her uneven gait, she gave her best leap into the tree branch's grasp. Using the extra strands she'd pulled down to loop around the other side, she used the multitude to haul the rest of her body onto the branch, large gasps echoing from her that she tried to stifle with a sweat-laved hand.

The eerie howls of creatures almost-human trickled to her ears, and she struggled to remain calm with her hands as sticky as they were.

Deep breaths, he can't smell you. He can't smell you.

The bark bit angrily into her thighs as she saddled the branch, waiting the howls to quiet, before she shuffled to the trunk.

Wrapping her arms around the tree, as best as she could manage with its width, she slowly rose to her feet. There was a moment where she froze, hearing that distinct snap of wings, a curling voice which had found her even in her most peaceful dreams, until it disappeared.

A sudden, treacherous weight lifted from her gut.

Tonight, tonight she would be safe nestled in the bowed nest of the tree trunk.

Even while she was proud to remember such a hiding place, she knew it was only a matter of time before they found her.

This was his safety net.

Kazian would have never let her into a real forest, after all.

[zoethehead]

(The 1st img was illustrated before i received Phanuel's official design) but yeah, here's the images of Darius turning into a werebear after being ambushed and nearly killed by ash zombies. the 2nd image being after he killed most of the ash zombies, where he transforms back and just straight up passes out from a combo of exhaustion from turning back into a half elf/half orc, and the bloodloss caused from his wounds.