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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months ago

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Snippet - Fate vs. Choice - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Jinx has a decision, and a deadline.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Six o’ clock. Late evening.

The Cathedral of Progress.

Lanterns burned in their iron-scrolled brackets; the shadows cut flayed patterns on the granite walls. In the nave, the acolytes chanted, cloaked and cowled. In their palms, the lit tapers cast long, lean shadows across the stone floors. Their voices were a mechanized hymn: harmonized down to the smallest atom vibrating in the air. There was no music riding the currents. Only silence, draping a veil of total stillness over the congregation. Perhaps even eternal damnation, to those who dared trespass.

Jinx didn't give a ripe toot about damnation. She'd already fallen from grace: the moment she'd set a wind-up monkey loose to rescue her family, and jinxed them instead. Her own jinx, since that fateful night, was an inevitability, and a long time coming.

Now, at nineteen, she was the living, breathing epitome of it.

The harsh sweetness of coffee cut through the chants. Jinx cracked an eyelid open; for one long giddy second, the world spun in a sickening circle.

Then it righted itself. Or Viktor did: a cool hand clasping hers.

“Wake up, Jinx.”

Her eyes fluttered open. She lay, starfished in an indolent sprawl, in sweetgrass that swayed as if under an invisible caress. The aroma of lilies was ascendant; twilight had deepened their perfume. The night-garden was tucked into the courtyard at the heart of the Cathedral, abutted by a small cemetery of granite.

Under the surreal refractions of a stained-glass dome, it was a wonderland: teeming with long-dead saints, and the perfumes of late-blooming flowers, all a-glow in holy light. Upon closer scrutiny, the holiness inverted into the uncanny. Every plant, aspirating beneath the multicolored rays, was revealed to hold an almost numerical symmetry: logarithmic spirals of orchids, geometrically-profound petunias, grid-patterns of clovers all fractaling in golden ratios.

As if every organism—from soil grain to leaf tip—had coalesced into life under the touch of a divine hand. Or a very obsessive mathematician.

Or—both.

Then there was the tree.

It was a prehistoric sycamore of darkling wood: five times the height of the average Piltovan oculus; three times as broad across. The branches fanned out into spokes as big as a ferris wheel. The ends of each spathe, splayed wildly under the skylight, erupted into iridescent blooms. They were nearly gem-like in their purity: their crystalline petals glowing in colors of multicolored amethyst, chrysoprase, quartz, topaz, ruby. The canopy spread over the entire garden; the roots curled deep into the bedrock.

By nightfall, it gave off an eerie luminescence: bathing the garden in an ephemeral glow. By daylight, it cast a rainbow halo across the grounds. Its fragrance changed constantly: one minute pungent as wormwood, the next citrusy as lemon zest, another woody as cardamomh. Insects swarmed about its roots; butterflies flocked its boughs. Some even swore they'd spotted faeries dancing in rings beneath its shadow.

The hallucinogenic effects were, by Viktor's accounts, an ur-example of magicoreality: an object, space, or phenomenon that is created through the combined imagination of multiple entities. It was real, because they believed it real. And vice versa.

Like a mobius strip blossoming into being.

Viktor's acolytes had transplanted the tree—roots to stem—from Singed subterranean laboratory. Something in the soil of the Cathedral's grounds nourished it with unique potency: the tree flourished where naysayers, Silco chief among them, predicted it would rot. By the first month, it'd become the centerpiece around which every botanical beauty revolved. By the sixth, it was the brilliant heart of a preternatural paradise: creepers, ferns, lilies, ivies, marigolds, all erupting in a palette of purest life.

By the tenth?

The tree was worshipped as an entity unto itself. It dominated the cultists' rhetoric; it haunted their reveries. It was rumored that Janna herself had breathed life into its veins, rescuing it from the brink of collapse. Pilgrims from the depths below, voyeurs from the heights above, arrived in droves to seek the sheltering boughs as if for the same restorative breath.

And under those twirling branches?

They were never the same again.

Formerly pallid patients were rumored to stagger from their sickbeds, sit beneath the blossoms in solemn ceremony, then unfold from their atavistic comas miraculously reborn. Like larvae metamorphosing into butterflies.

From devolution to evolution.

But though the tree restored a measure of life to its devotees, its own was an hourglass suspended between grains. The fruits hanging off its branches evoked a spectrum of incandescent sea-shells washed by whitecaps onto arid shores. They were entirely inedible; ash and air. And as soon as they fell, their shells fossilized: petrifying into stone-crusted facets within minutes of detachment, before dissolving into inert dust.

It was the tree's perpetual paradox: the promise of life, forever beyond reach. And death, ever-encroaching at its heels.

In its shadow, Viktor, the most devoted disciple of one, held court weekly with the most notorious apostate of the other.

"Wake up, Jinx."

Viktor's hand, freed from its tight leather glove, squeezed hers. His fingers, long and thin, held a delicate strength: there were calluses, velvety, at the tips, and a roughness along the heel. A scientist's hands, evolved into a healer's. Tonight, Jinx saw ink smudges on the knuckles. There was also a tiny nick, from wielding a scalpel during the evening's surgery on a young boy's ruptured appendix.

The boy was safe. Tucked into a cot at the infirmary, with the others under Viktor's care: each dosed with enough poppy-milk to see them through the night. The boy's mother, one of the dozen souls who'd flocked to the Cathedral seeking the Machine Herald's aid, had wept at her son's restoration, kissing the hem of Viktor's robe in a show of gratitude.

It was a scene that Jinx had witnessed, over and over again, during her visits. And it never failed to unsettle.

Devotion, undiluted, had that effect. Especially when it was devoid of desire.

Daily, scores of souls passed in and out of the Cathedral. Each brought with them a problem, a poison, a plea. Each, Viktor addressed in their turn: salving their sores, purging their pustules, and bestowing, with a steady hand and a soft voice, his personal brand of salvation.

He never charged for his chem-modifications. Even the most complex, which took months to design, were given for free.

His payment, his only payment, was everything.

From the start, he’d made plain that his services were offered on a strictly non-partisan basis, and would cease immediately should any faction in Zaun attempt to co-opt his work. Except that was a lie. Everyone knew, in Zaun's hierarchical honeycomb, Viktor had no love for politics. But he was fiercely political: his sacrifices, solely and exclusively, were for the elevation of Zaun's future.

It was his singular obsession: the evolution of the present into an age of transcendence, and the eradication of the past into obscurity.

Viktor hated the past. A past that’d left him broken, disfigured, discarded: an imperfect specimen, unworthy of survival.

The same past, which had yet forged him.

And Jinx, his muse and mirror, who'd been reborn in its bloodshed.

"Jinx," Viktor repeated. "Wake up."

His hand squeezed hers, then let go. A moment later, a metal cup was pressed into her grasp.

The warmth radiated; Jinx's flesh drank it up. The coffee gave off its curls of aromatic steam: a nutty blend of chicory root, black chocolate liqueur, and the sweet whiff of anise.

Diluted, as always, with sweetmilk.

Viktor, his own cup balanced precariously between two fingertips, reclined with an easy elegance in the grass. His staff lay within arm's reach: the undying habit of a boy whose mind is always five steps ahead, but whose body is forever falling behind. Everywhere, leather-bound books were scattered, some facedown with cracked spines, others bristling with raven's feathers that doubled as bookmarks. An inkwell glittered, half-empty, on a stack of maps scribbled with notes.

In this garden, Vitya was ever-studying, ever-searching. Never satisfied with the knowledge already in hand, and the miracles already in motion.

Something he and Jinx shared in common.

Reclining on elbow, Viktor sipped from his cup with the other hand. Then he plucked a notebook from the pile, stirred through its pages with a fingertip, and resumed writing with his cockatrice quill: a rapid series of symbols that, unfurling, imprinted themselves in a secret pocket of Jinx's brain, and the darkest recesses of her heart.

Destiny: charted beyond the stars.

Jinx sat up, knees tucked against her chest, and drank from her cup. The flavor was just as it should be: bitter chased by sweet, complexity balanced by simplicity.

Viktor's handwork: the paradox distilled into metaphor.

Just like the garden, where every blade of grass grew exactly the same height, and every flower, in its arrangement, was a repetition into infinity.

Sipping, Jinx's eyes flicked from bloom to bloom. Then, she noticed:

A single blossom out of place.

A lone iris, curling its way from between the tree's roots. It was sly as an intruder, bright as a fallen star.

The same hue as Powder's wishful blue eyes.

Jinx's lips curled. Tentatively, she reached out. Her fingers traced the blossoming petals. They were silky, smooth. Almost too flawless to be real.

"Is this place," she whispered, "alive?"

It was only half-joking. During each visit, she could never escape the sense that the garden—multiform, deviant—was suffused with a spiritual awareness sister to sentience. And the tree, gathering them both under its protective penumbra, was rooted right to the crux of Zaun's stony heart.

"Not exactly," Viktor replied, without looking up from his notes. "Not by our reckoning. More a kind of... meta-life."

"Meta-life?"

Viktor, dipping the quill in its inkwell, shrugged.

"This tree is but a reflection—an iteration—of something larger-than-life. Something of a piece with the city's vital flow. A conduit of sorts."

"Like, what? A portal?"

"Perhaps," he said, and absently rested a palm on his leg, the site of his first augments. "Or perhaps a lens. Something which reflects, refracts, magnifies. An imperfect metaphor."

"Serpent's tongue. Apple's flesh. Devil's promise."

"Precisely. A system of shorthand within which meaning can be imparted, and context given."

Jinx's eyes lingered on the flower: a star's winking light, buried under layers of soil.

"What's the point, though?" she wondered. "I mean, yeah, I get it: a symbol's powerful. But if you're trying to forget the past—"

"Forgetting is not the same as erasing," Viktor corrected, patiently. "And what good is a symbol, Jinx, if no one knows what it stands for?"

Double-edged question and double-pronged answer: classic Viktor.

Sighing, Jinx returned to her cup. The coffee, cooled, had lost its bite. She drained it anyway, then let the cup rest in her lap. Her eyes, half-lidded, took in her companion.

He was still garbed for his duties: a mauve linen robe with a high collar, its sleeves rolled up, the hem draping past his knees. It was a garment, once, meant to conceal. Now, it served a purpose quite the opposite. Its folds bared the armature that held Viktor together: once emaciated, now elegantly streamlined beneath a segmented exoskeleton of synth-plates. His bad leg, encased in gleaming obsidian augments, now held the flexile precision of muscle, and the springing strength of a steel cable.

The fusion was seamless: the stuff of futuristic fairytale. When he moved, it was with an almost regal glide. As if, somewhere in the gaunt structure of Viktor's frame, there was an ancient drop of royalty, finally emerging from its hardscrabble shell in a blend of princely asceticism and common-born resilience.

Under the tree's canopy, Viktor's pallor was offset by his deep-hued robes. The effect wasn't peaky so much as pearlescent. His untidy curls tumbled freshly-glossed along his shoulders: the barest delineations of a beard teased the contours of his jawline. The sum total was neither masculine nor feminine. Only androgynous; ethereal.

Transcendent as stardust.

The rim's of Jinx's eyes burned. Why was it that even at their closest, Viktor seemed as if he was dissolving into astral orbit, a beautiful moon drifting farther from reach?

And why did Jinx feel herself hurtling on an opposing trajectory: crashing to earth with fatal velocity?

The wind, still unseen, sawed gently through the tree's branches. Its blossoms whispered: the susurration of silk sheets, or a lover's sigh. Jinx found it fitting that, though the Cathedral of Progress was, technically, the building's newly-christened designation, ordinary Fissurefolk referred to it, unofficially, by a different epithet.

The Resurrection Root. The Everbloom. The Glass Garden.

And the most popular—

Der Wunschbaum.

Ur-Nox for Wishing Tree.

Except Ur-Nox was a double-edged sword. It was the language of the ancients; Mages and Guardians who'd lived in the time before Zaun had ever been. Their language, therefore, was the language of enchantment: one half lofty, the other half sinister. Wish, for instance, was rooted in the word Wunschet: to want. To desire beyond the bounds of reality.

But it was also rooted in Wählen: to choose.

A wish could be a heart's deepest desire unlocked. Or it could be a will to power: to take what you want, no matter the cost.

And me? Jinx wondered. What do I want?

And what will I give to seize it—or throw it away?

At her silence, Viktor stopped scribbling. His eyes, deep-gold, met hers.

"All right, Jinx?"

"Y-Yeah."

"You should wake up."

"Don't wanna."

"No?" Scritch-scritch went the pen, runes blossoming in its wake. Distantly, Jinx heard the acolytes singing, a ghostly engine of harmony. And—could it be?—Sparky's yips, cutting through the choir: a dissonant counterpoint. The greedy mutt, somewhere, was begging for treats. "If you do not wake, how will your Name Day be celebrated?"

"Multitasking's a thing. I've always been a pro."

"You are terrible at multitasking."

"Am not!"

"You fell asleep during the surgery."

"You told me not to interrupt. So I closed my eyes. But I was listening. I always listen."

"You were drooling." And, closing the notebook with the coordinates plotted inside, he set it down. In a single graceful movement, he'd shifted closer. Close enough to touch his thumb against the corner of her lips, where a grin had stolen in. Viktor's own lips, palely-parted, were a few inches away. "You look like a child when you sleep. Peaceful. It is... rare."

"I was havin' a sweet dream."

"Oh? Tell me."

"A night full of stars. Wishes a-popping like fishes. And a beautiful boy." Her voice, at half-octave, came breathless. Always, his proximity did that to her: an unravelling of everything she held dear about herself. Like deja vu—except more desolate. Dying, when you longed to be reborn. "Except he won't wish me a Happy Name Day. He won't even gimme a kiss."

At that, Viktor smiled: a slow, secret curl that was yet the saddest expression in the world.

"Perhaps," he murmured, "he is a fool."

"Yeah?"

"And a coward." The thumb, tracing the full jut of her bottom-lip, was cool as snowfall, and as chaste. "Because he knows, deep in his heart, that you are still a child. The child he sees when you sleep. And because, despite whatever tradition or legality declares, you are not yet a woman. Certainly, not the woman who, once she comes into herself, will outrace him, and his grand designs, and fly off on wings of stardust."

"You talkin' about Silco?" Jinx quipped. "'Cause, no offense, but he's no competition. I can outrun that fossil anytime."

The levity fell flat. Viktor's golden eyes, augmented to their depths, lost their imperceptible luster. A moment later, his hand retreated, as if it'd never been.

"I know," he said, "that this is only an interlude."

"You think so?" Jinx, impulsively, caught the hem of his sleeve. "Pretty harsh frame to put 'round forever."

"Forever means little in a cosmos of infinite permutations."

"Not so long as we're still us, right?"

"A conundrum in itself." He didn't withdraw, exactly. Only laid his fingertips over hers, knotted into his sleeve. "Are our mirrored selves—in the physical, in the quantum—so very different at their crux? Is one less worthy, less agentic, than the other? Or are they simply two sides of the same coin, flipped endlessly, until the universe collapses on itself."

"Yikes. Talk about buzzkill."

"I am not a man for platitudes, Jinx." The smile, sadder, stayed on the surface. "Not will I feed you falsehoods, in hopes that the future may hold more than the present."

"So you say."

"So I mean." And, surprising her, he caught her hand in both his own: a tender clasp. "We've pledged our spirits as one. We've plotted our course. Escape velocity is inevitable. But the path ahead will not be easy. Not for either of us. If anything, it will be harder, given what we must renounce to see the destination through. And I—I cannot be sure—"

A crack in his faultless equilibrium. In turn, Jinx felt her own fragile serenity evaporate.

"Sure of what, Viktor?" she said, with quiet ferocity. "That I'll change my mind halfway? Chicken out before the starting gun goes off? Let Silco dictate my choices, like I've always done?"

"No, Jinx, no."

He shook his head; the curls danced, a ribboning cascade of cornsilk. There were silver streaks beginning to thread at the temples. Thirty-three, and a full-grown man where Ekko was still shedding the last vestiges of boyhood. But moments like this, it struck Jinx that Viktor was, at his core, even younger than Ekko. Two orphans prematurely thrust into roles before their time: the savior leading his flock to the promised land, and the savant saving souls that the world would sooner crush underfoot.

But both, in their hearts, still children. Still seeing Jinx, and what she'd become. But never, ever seeing her for who she was: the girl, not the legend.

The woman, not the jinx.

"Never that, Jinx," Viktor said. "Never would I think so little of you."

"...But?"

"It's been difficult, these past months, for us to speak frankly."

"Vitya," Jinx said, a touch exasperated. "We're speaking now. Aren't we?"

"We are." A squeeze, gentle, on her fingers. "At risk on both ends. But I have never once doubted your commitment. Your passion far exceeds mine; far exceeds whatever designs I may conjure. The world will be a better place, with you striving to make it so. My only fear is that, if you choose this path, yours will be the lonelier one."

"Lonely, how?" The ghost-prick of tears. "We're bonded, aren't we? Even if it's not what either of us planned—"

"A bond that can never be consummated. Never, in any sense, bear fruit." His grip tightened; yet the timbre of his voice held no rebuke. Only truth. "I am a creature born of disappointment, Jinx. Faulty in form and function. Unfit for any world except the one I will create, and even that shall be a long time coming. Yet, in the Void, you gave me a glimpse of paradise, and it was... indescribable. All I will ever want."

"And?" Her lip quivered, but held. A child, he'd called her, and yet her voice was steel. "Wasn't it enough? Wasn't I—?"

"You? Not enough? My dearest." Even though his sigh was bittersweet, a mote of passion shot through: the same passion that'd flowed, so effortlessly, between them in the otherworld. The same passion that now translated itself—sublimated and yet quartered—into the gentle dexterity of his hands on a circuitboard fused to a sobbing boy's flesh, and the consoling caress afterward as the boy's mother, sobbing too, laid a kiss of gratitude upon her savior's robe. "You are the only star in a universe without light. But because you are, you are far too much. For anyone's good. Least of all mine."

The tears, against Jinx's will, spilled free.

"So I was a mistake?"

"Yes. And no"

"How?"

"You were a miracle," Viktor said, and his smile, in its sadness, was radiant. "And a miracle is a gift bestowed by Fate. Without factors such as deservingness, or suitability, or even equity, thrown into the equation. A miracle, simply, is. As you, Jinx, always are. I know you've made your peace with our bond. You've acclimated yourself to it, the same as I have. But if we commit—truly commit—to the path ahead, we must renounce the rest, in every way. And Jinx... I cannot, in good faith, ask that of you. Not when I know what you stand to lose. Not when I know all the ways you need, and deserve, to be loved."

The tears kept falling. Jinx made no effort to stop them. The garden, with its Wishing Tree, was a time-out from pretense. Not sanctuary, but as close as Zaun's chaotic confines allowed. The other one—the Wishing Wagon, in civilization's shadowed cul-de-sac—was her true refuge. But that was a different her, with a different future.

A girl who'd yet to realize her greatest wish. A woman who, at the crossroad's fork, could take a chance.

She'd never told Viktor about the Wishing Wagon. Same way she'd never told Ekko about the Wishing Tree. Both were secrets within secrets: mirrored halves of a fractured whole.

And Jinx, at the liminal space in between, wondering: What's it mean?

What did it mean that one man had her soul at knifepoint, but another was holding her heart hostage? What did it say that she and Viktor fit together just right, but she and Ekko were built from perfectly mismatched puzzle pieces? What did it matter if she needed them both, but in ways so opposite they might as well be a different language?

How could she make the ends meet?

Especially when her life—her death—still hung on Silco's strings?

And her past—her future—still hinged on Vi's?

"Maybe," she said, and caught her lip in her teeth, "that's the point."

"Oh?"

"Maybe... the glimpse of paradise was all it was. A glimpse. The rest's about struggling to make it happen. Because it's the only way. Because choice is nothing but fate with a kick."

"Jinx, no."

"Why not? It makes sense. In a twisted sorta way." Her eyes, smarting-wet, blinked hard. "Fate's not a pretty delivery-gal on the front step with a package. He's a blind old pirate, throwing darts at a map and laughing as they land. Doesn't matter who gets skewered. Once that bullseye hits, it hits. And you're on the hook. No takebacks." Her other hand, lifting, aligned itself with Viktor's jaw: stubble yielding velvety beneath her palm. "We were always gonna be on the hook, Vik. At least, in the Void, I saw where we’re headed. What, in the end, we could become. And sure, the path's not a fairytale. But if we don't take it, the rest'll be fucked. And blind old fate'll be laughing his ass off, watching us sink under the waves."

"Perhaps," Viktor said, and leaned into her touch. But the smile, always, stayed sad. "But Jinx?"

"Yeah?"

"Fate is not the same as choice." Turning his head, he laid a kiss, pure as a snowflake, in the heart of her palm. "Even the cosmos, no matter its dictates, allows breathing-room for free will. I have mine, and I know what they will cost. Now, and in every incarnation. But you, Jinx: you are still so young. Your wishes, the ones that matter, have yet to be made. And once they are lost, you will not have the chance to reclaim them."

"Because I'm a child, right?" The anger, a flashfire that filled her to the seams, in this garden only left her aching. "Too dumb to know what I want. Too naive to make the tough call."

All at once, Viktor closed the gap.

Silently, he swept Jinx into an embrace: a cradle and a coffin holding both living and dead in sacred embrace. His arms made a crossbones at her shoulderblades; his breath stirred the top of her scalp. They were both clothed, but Jinx felt her heartbeat resonating through their ribcages, keeping time with the rhythmic dirge of the Cathedral's chants, and the Old Hungry's distant chimes

Reality and dream: melded into one.

Somewhere, Sparky was pawing at Jinx's slumbering shape in search of belly-rubs. Behind her eyelids, neon bled through. She heard fireworks; smelled engine-grease. Felt an odd pressure on her spine that had nothing to do with Viktor's cool fingertips tracing its curve, and everything to do with being bound, on a visceral level, beyond this communion they both shared.

"Fate," Viktor breathed, and his lips, against her temple, imparted prophecy, "will always come due. But choice? That, my dearest Jinx, is an arrow aimed straight for the heart. And to deny it: that is an error far graver than anything science, or the cosmos, could dole out." He kissed her forehead: the sweetest absolution. "Your choice must be yours. Do not allow a hand, no matter how divine, to dictate it."

Jinx, closing her eyes, lay her cheek to his chest.

"Not even yours?" she whispered, as the tears stopped falling.

"My hand, like my heart, will belong with you, Jinx. Even if you choose another path."

"Mirror, mirror on the wall."

"In every iteration," Viktor murmured, a tender withdrawal, "of this cosmic joke. An imperfect metaphor. Do you understand?"

"I do," Jinx lied, and lifted her face. "Kiss me?"

"This is not a space for secrets, Jinx."

"Then it's a perfect place, ain't it? 'Cause I won't have any left, after tonight."

"You will," Viktor said, and his thumbs smoothed the fading tear-tracks from her cheeks. "You do. We all carry secrets within ourselves. But to hide one, here, is to desecrate the very vow we must keep. And to deny our truth—any of our truths—is the greatest dishonor to the other. Do you understand?"

Foreboding rippled over Jinx's skin. The garden, the tree, the chants: all the beautiful trappings of ephemera, slipping like sand through the hourglass.

"Viktor." She caught his hand in hers, holding it fast. "Please."

"I'll see you tonight, Jinx."

"Don't—don't go—"

"Tonight. When you make your choice. Whatever that choice may be."

"But—"

"Wake up now."

The hourglass, upended. The Cathedral, the garden, the embrace, dissolving. All the dreamscape and its dazzling details, blotting out.

"Viktor!" Jinx cried. "Viktor!"

"Happy Name Day, Jinx," he said, and the ghost-imprint of his kiss died before it met her mouth. "I will kiss you, truly, tonight."

The ceiling spun above: a galaxy's worth of stars, winking out. Her hands, searching, found nothing.

Nothing but the blue iris, unfurling at the tip of a finger.

And Viktor's voice, deep as midnight.

"Make a wish."

The last winking star: her own.

#arcane #arcane league of legends #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane silco #silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane viktor #viktor #arcane ekko #ekko #jinxekko #ekkojinx #timebomb #jinx x ekko #ekko x jinx #vinx sciencebros #jinxtor

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daughteroftheeveningstar · 8 months ago

Text

Something I used to do to express gender was just listing off random things, titles, and adjectives like it was a shopping list of a sort. So I encourage all to do the same. Here is my gender list;

Debutante, bug girl, siren, doe, shaking a bloodied slab of meat in my mouth like a dog and having the blood splat everywhere, hand of madness, an interlocking and puzzling cube simultaneously and continuously moving and changing dimensional shape, star dust, Rust, Succubus, Sharp crystal points, murderous clown, purple, florida morning skies, mania and dementia, mad god, monk, demon queen, priestess, plague (both the disease(s) and character from DBD), dirty doll found in an abandoned building, forest oak, rotting/rotten/rot, decayed log but with a whole city of life regarding bugs and worms, brain in a jar, jelly fish, tentacles, Pirate, holy knight, divine entity, balance, yin and yang, blades such as swords and sickles, bo staff, pink, bows and ribbons, puppeteer, puppet with torn strings, fire flies, a swarm of flies/bees/wasps (bugs that go bzzz), bones and tar, eldritch, ribcage, roots beneath the trees, royal blue, 333, 777, 222, 555. Angel girl with black wings, mother miranda, Daniela/bela/cassandra Dimitrescu, snow white/Narissa/vivian/Faith(The wolf among us), Louise/Tina/Bob (bobs burgers), A prism of white that shines rainbow, color wheel, every color through light, white diamond/Lapis Lazuli /Sapphire/Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz/Amethyst/Sugilite/Opal(SU), Hearts 🫀♥️, brain, sinew, mortal flesh but a immortal being, experiences but never anything more than a moment in time, embarrassed sad little woman, Crows, Cats, Snakes/Reptiles, Wisp, a cloud of star dust, forged iron, Black, pearls, clouds, melted wax, lit candles, white roses, black lilies, morning glories. Genderless cryptid, mothman, la lorona, ghost, a figment, non existent but present, a paradox in design. A moral fabric in a sea of cruelty, red/poisoned apples, soft humming, lanterns, Mileena/Sindel/Scarlett(MK), torches, keys, locks/door knobs, water, air, lightning. Botany, whimsical, fruity little creature, stained glass mural, red meat, strawberry cow, blood and snow driven woman, crazy cat lady, hollowed, stoic, solemn, eery, kind, loving, orchids, instead of organs its machinery and my heart is made of a giant carved ruby that glows when i open my torso, the little mermaid, Witch, shadows, Daisies, the sun and the moon; twilight, mystical af wizard in a leaning tower casting spells in a robe and pointy hat littered with glowing stars. And finally, Planets. Planetary orbit, Saturn, Uranus(shut it.), earth, venus. Andromeda, the milky way, the asteroid belt.

WRITE UP YOUR LIST I WISH TO SEE EVERYONES!!

Pronouns: Elle/Them

(elle is french for she, pronouns in other languages sound so much prettier then whatever the english language has going on.)

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howlingday · 7 months ago

Note

Wait while I'm on about this how would rwby react to stuff like

A ruby lookalike who's like shadow

Super ruby

Ruby going to storybook worlds

Chao

Literal aliens

And a being of pure chaos

Ooh~! Sounds like fun~! Alright, here goes~!

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The Huntress

Ruby panted as she looked back to the wailing sirens of the city of Vale's police force still searching for her. Her entire day had been one chase after the other since she was arrested by the Atlas military. She wasn't sure how or why she suddenly became a wanted criminal, but she wasn't intending to find out from the inside of a prison cell. So, at her first opportunity, she escaped, and led to her standing before a disabled Paladin mech crumpled before her. And a girl in a black hood standing atop it.

"What?!" Ruby exclaimed.

"It all starts with this," The figure lifted their slender, shadowy arm to reveal a Relic, "an artifact holding the ultimate power~!"

"That's the... Relic of Knowledge!" At this exclamation, the figure took notice of Ruby, silver eyes matching silver eyes. "Now I get it! Everyone seems to think that you're me! So, what are you gonna do with that Relic?" Ruby bolted forward, spiraling towards her dark duplicate. "SAY SOMETHING, FAKE HOOD!"

"JINN!"

Time froze around Ruby, who could only helplessly watch as her doppelganger chuckled while walking past her mid-spiral attack. Ruby landed, leaping backwards to keep from falling over. She shook her head in bewilderment.

"Holy cats, you're fast!" She scrunched her nose. "But that wasn't really your speed, was it? You were just using the magic of the Relic!"

"My name doesn't matter." The figure dangled the lamp in front of them. "I am The Huntress, the most powerful hunter across all Remnants, and I'm done playing with you." There was a clatter, and a flash grenade rolled to Ruby's feet. "FAREWELL!"

Ruby flinched, closing her eyes at just the last minute. As the world came back into view, she saw that her imposter had disappeared. "The Huntress? What kind of huntress is she-"

"GET ON THE GROUND!" A voice barked. "KEEP YOUR ARMS SPREAD!"

"Huh?" Suddenly, Ruby was surrounded by Atlas military. "Ugh... Not again..."

(Fun Fact!: This is an Evil Ruby I'm working on)

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Silver Ruby

The city, if not the whole world was in peril! MANA, the arcane entity sealed away long ago and now released by Cinder's group, absorbed the magic of the Relics and had become a being as powerful, if not more powerful than the Brothers themselves! Upon doing so, it began to warp reality itself, causing buildings to collapse and pure magic to flow through the streets. All the misery and pain being spread had attracted a large amount of Grimm as well, only making things even more difficult!

"This isn't just a nightmare..." Ruby had been separated by her team, who split up to search for survivors. She gripped her scythe with frustration. "This is so much worse!"

High above, dipping low from the dark clouds was a massive airship. Painted along the hull was a familiar jack-o-lantern, clear proof of who was piloting the airborne war machine. And if it wasn't, the voice of the man himself dispelled any confusions.

"Good thing someone left the keys in this thing~!" Roman Torchwick chuckled. "Regardless, I don't appreciate giant monsters ruining my plans to have fun with this city! Neo, fire at will!"

Rockets, missiles, heavy guns, and just about everything that wasn't an outright city-sweeper was launched at the magical creature! Unfortunately, it did little to deter the monster, serving only to fuel its rage! Opening its maw, it unleashed a powerful beam of energy at the ship, slicing the most powerful weapon wielded by the Kingdom of Atlas like a hot knife through cold butter!

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Roman could be seen clinging to Neo as they drifted away to safety.

"That does it!" Ruby stepped forward, roaring at the massive beast. "What gives you the right to do all of this?!" Suddenly, a small, green light drifted towards the young reaper. "Oh! It's you! You're the one who sealed Mana away in the first place!" The small man appeared as if out of thin air. "Mini-Pin!"

"My magic was the one to seal away Mana." The small Ozpin explained. "Even now, he's filled with naught but rage and sorrow. He's done great harm to this city, and if this continues, it will only cause greater harm to the world at large! Same as before!"

With a mighty bellow, Mana scattered the Relics far from them, each a drained husk of what they once were. Ruby's attention was drawn to Mana, whose cries seemed to sound different now. Ozpin clicked his cane to the floor, angered by the sudden change. "We must seal him once more before it's too late!"

"But what will that change?" Ruby asked, notably calmer than she was before. "He'll still be the same as when he was sealed the last time, right? Being angry doesn't just away like that! He'll just be trapped with those feelings forever!"

"What choice do we have?!" Ozpin asked, jumping into the air and waving his cane around.

"Ruby!" She turned to see Jaune run up to her with his team, a now dull Relic in his hands. "Here, take this!"

Behind Ruby, her team arrived with Relics of their own in each of their hands. "Hey, guys! What's up?"

"Mana only drew on the negative magic from the Brother of Darkness." Blake explained as she held out another Relic. "Ruby, you should be able to harness their real power!"

"I don't like throwing my little sister out like this, but Blake's onto something with this." Yang huffed.

"Ruby, you're the only one." Weiss said, her eyes meeting Ruby's with... something she hadn't seen in them before? Expectancy? Pleading? Worry? Maybe it was just her imagination, especially since she couldn't focus with all the people around her cheering her name.

"Yay, Ruby~!"

"Go, Ruby~!"

"Ruby~! Ruby~! Ruby~!"

"Negative magic isn't the only way to empower the Relics." Blake explained further. "Our joys and hopes can also make them work!"

The four Relics swirled around Ruby, filling her with an energy she'd never felt before. It felt more powerful than aura, like it was protecting her from within as well as from outside of her body. She felt invincible as silver energy coated her hair and clothes into a protective barrier, with silver flames burning in her eyes.

Without another word, she launched forward.

(Fun Fact!: I had trouble deciding between live-action Sonic 2, for comedy, and Sonic X for nostalgia. I think I made the right choice on this one.)

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

The Girl Who Eased Fear

Ruby zoomed through the forest, finally breaking free from the trees and into the open road leading to the city. Someway, somehow, she'd found herself transported to the world inside her mother's old storybook. Clinging to her back was the Blade of Omens, a legendary sword held only by those doomed to fall in the most tragic of ways. Not that Ruby was concerned with what the magic weapon had to say about it.

"That was close." Spoke the blade. "For a moment, I thought the prophecy was sure to come true."

"Well, I'm not ready to die yet." She replied. "Not when there's a family waiting for me back home!"

"And how are you so certain that this family will still be waiting when you arrive?" At this, Ruby didn't say anything. In fact, it seemed like she wasn't listening. "What's wrong?"

"Do you hear that?"

"WAAAAAAAAAH~!"

Ruby bolted into the city, finding a crowd dancing and cheering around a crying child. The boy, weeping under a pile of pigeons, had nearly cried a literal river into the streets. Leaping over the men and women still celebrating, Ruby landed next to the boy and carefully lifted the pigeons off of him one-by-one.

"Are you okay?!" Ruby asked once enough birds were plucked free from the boy.

"I'm supposed to be the next king, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" The youth answered with tears streaming just as hard as before. "I've never been this scared before!"

"Where's your mom?"

"I... I don't know, but..." The boy sniffed. "I... I really wish she was here~! WAAAAAAAAAH~!"

Ruby grit her teeth as she looked at the lad. He was so small, so weak, and yet... She couldn't stop seeing herself crying in him. Back when she'd lost her own mother. Ruby knelt down and wiped some tears from his eyes.

"Do you know where your mom is?"

"She... She's at home..." He whimpered. "At the foot of the mountains."

"Alright." Ruby nodded, standing tall. "I'm on it."

"Halt! Halt, I say!" The Blade of Omens barked. "Don't tell me you intend to run off to find a single person to placate this crying child!"

"Nope!" Ruby gripped the blade and turned to the mountains. "We are~!"

"But what of your mission now?! You will never before sundown!"

"Probably not," Ruby chuckled, "but I'm not the kind of girl to leave someone crying in the street without helping them!" She sped off in a flurry of petals. "Never forget that!"

The boy-king looked to where the girl ran, in awe of the brave hero who'd come to his rescue. She jumped in the air, turning to call back to him.

"Do what you're supposed to do, Your Majesty, and if you don't know, then just wait until I bring your mom here~!"

(Fun Fact!: I got inspired by OSPs rendition of "The Boy Who Found Fear At Last" and probably the best scene that shows just the kind of hero Sonic is)

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

Until We Meet Again, Ruby Rose...

"Ruby Rose!" Ruby turned to see all of her friends standing expectantly in front of her. Weiss lead the charge, standing in front of everyone else. "What's this I hear about you having a doppelganger?"

"A what?"

"Y'know?" Yang asked. "Big Ruby?"

"Oh, her! Yup!" Ruby giggled. "She just left. But holy cats, you guys won't believe the adventure we've been on!"

"What exactly was this 'Big Ruby' like?" Blake asked.

"Was she cool?" Sun asked.

"Cooler than Winter?" Neptune added.

"HEY!" Weiss and Winter exclaimed in unison.

"Ice cold~!" Ruby cheerfully confirmed.

"Was she fiery like me?" Yang asked, her semblance kicking in for effect, making Jaune leap away and into the water.

"She was hotter than the sun~!" Ruby pointed to the sky, leaving Sun to sulk a bit.

"Did she fly?" Blake asked, patting Sun on the back.

"All over the place~!" Ruby zipped around with her semblance, scattering petals everywhere. "Faster and higher than I ever could~!"

"Was her weapon sharp?" Pyrrha asked.

"I was worried she'd cut ME in half~!" Ruby laughed, patting Crescent Rose.

"She sounds like a superhero!" Nora exclaimed. "No, wait; LIKE A SUPERNOVA~!" She inhaled. "Did she shine like one?"

"I almost went blind looking at her~!" Ruby beamed. The crowd around her seemed pleased by her remarks, murmuring their excitement to meet Big Ruby again. "There might be a whole bunch of Grimm out there, but there's only ONE Ruby Rose... Uh, a-aside from me, of course~!"

'I decided to tell everyone about you, Big Ruby, even the people who never got to meet you. I wanna make sure I never forget you. Thank you for everything you have done for me, and for us, and I hope to meet you again...'

(Fun Fact!: I prefer the DS Sonic Colors over the console versions. And this interaction [which I think is only on the DS] is proof of why)

#rwby #sonic the hedgehog #ruby rose #sonic adventure 2 #sonic adventure 2: battle #weiss schnee #ozpin #rwby chibi #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #sonic and the black knight #sonic colors

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aikoiya · 2 years ago

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LoZ - The Sheikah's Ancient Task

I've talked quite a bit about who I think the Fierce Deity is as well as what I think his role was when he was at his peak.

In a lot of ways, I see him as the Soul of the Hero. The central identity at the core of every Link.

As well as the figure that the Bargainer Statues were based on. (Meaning he has 4 eyes.) Him having been the Hyrule Death God among other things. And creator of the Sheikah.

Now, I want to talk about the Sheikah & what their task was after the Fierce Deity became mortal.

I think that the Sheikah were tasked with more than just serving the Royal Family. Rather, to protect Hyruleans in-general. The Hylians especially as they were the Sheikah's sister people. They were also tasked with not only bringing spirits (non-combative poes) to the Bargainer Statues, but also with fighting the Poe enemies on the Surface.

My theory is that the symbols on the Depths Set & the Dark Clumps are ancient Sheikah script, which the Fierce Deity taught them & the strips of paper wrapped around the Dark Clumps are talismans meant to keep malicious intent or On'nenryoku (怨念魔力, magic fueled by malicious intent) simply from leaking out or reforming. Created using Sheishin Fūinjutsu, which is a type of forgotten, sacred runic magic that the Sheikah practiced long ago.

In a lot of ways, I believe that the Dark Clumps are parts from an enemy Poe, which are in many ways like Japanese Yūrei (幽霊, Ghost, Phantom, Specter, or Apparition; from the Kanji Kasoke for Ghost & Rei for Spirit, Soul, Ghost, or Departed Soul). Poe Souls become enemy Poes when their negative emotions build up too much, at which point, they rise to the Surface & create pseudo-flesh bodies to inhabit. The Dark Clumps being pieces of that pseudo-flesh created via hatred, resentment, vengeance, jealousy, & pure will.

One of the Sheikah's roles was to go out & either soothe those Poes (whether via music or reasoning) or, failing that, "kill" them, as well as other undead monsters, & return the spirit to the Bargainers, who would then send the spirits on to the afterlife. In this way, they were quite similar to Miko & Kanuushi in Japanese Shintoism.

They are able to "kill" these entities by using either Light, Twilight, or Spirit Magic & fighting them with weapons forged using ancient weaponsmithing techniques taught by Sheikaku (the Fierce Deity). Part of that process involved engraving Sheishin Fūinjutsu into the metal. Once that's done, the Sheikah is to preform a sacred ritual on the night of either the New Moon, the Full Moon, or the Waning Crescent Moon or Waxing Gibbous Moon, that should bestow Sheikaku's blessing upon it. Sheishin Fūinjutsu, the sacred forging techniques, & even the ritual have all been forgotten to time.

These weapons were also fairly strong against Akuma. Or evil beings possessed by On'nen.

This is why the Sheikah were always so heavily associated with death, spirits, & graveyards.

The Sheikah are simply naturally intune with the world of the spirits, but in order to fully unlock it, they are traditionally taught to open their Mind's Eye (originally passed down to them by the Fierce Deity & the mastery of which turns one's eyes ruby red), which allows them to actually see spirits.

The reason that some Yiga can hear the voice of the Bargainers is because those specific Yiga are of Sheikah descent. They are likely being called to complete the task that their ancestors were assigned.

The Sheikah who were tasked with gathering non-combative spirits wore robes very similar to the Depths Set & carried shepherd crooks made of dark wood. From a hook on those crooks hung black steel lanterns with green flame candles & from the bottom of those lanterns hung a flower-shaped silver bell. These lanterns were known as Lanterns of the Lost & the sound of the bell would draw spirits to it. The spirits would then gather inside the flame.

Sheikah who were tasked with the Surface also carried these Lanterns, but instead of crooks, they were simply carried in their hand. Ringing the bell would still draw out Poes, only then the Sheikah expected to either negotiate with the Poe & find a way to sooth them enough that their darkened flesh dissipated or sever the spirit's connection to the darkened flesh via their own hand using specialized weapons made to banish cursed flesh or the use of light, twilight, or spirit magic.

LoZ Cultural Masterlist 2

#loz #totk #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #poes #bargainer statues #sheikah #fierce deity #depths #depths set

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moorishflower · 3 years ago

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see the thing about Dream is

the thing is

it's very tempting to look at Tom Sturridge and go ah yes my sad scrungly wet cat anthropomorphic personification, because he does have Those Eyes and That Hair, and then it is very tempting to look at some panels of Dream in the comics and go ah yes my depressed weird friend who lives in a void, except sometimes i feel that this is too humanizing, especially if you're talking about Dream pre-1300s

and i think in the comics in a lot of his pre-Hob Gadling interactions with mortals you can see that he is balls to the wall batshit insane

his track record with loving mortals is absolutely bonkers

>Nada, Queen of the First City, pursued Dream and then when she discovered who he was went "oh shit, humans loving the Endless is forbidden by my people, we definitely shouldn't" and Dream confronted by a mortal he couldn't have went grabby grabby hands, convinced her to fuck him anyways, and then condemned her to Hell afterwards because the sun nuked her city and Nada, grieving, said she didn't want to be Dream's Queen (on account of the sinning)

>Killala of the Glow, an alien lady precursor to the Green Lanterns who punches through to the Dreaming by accident and Dream falls in love instantly, he knows her for basically 3 months and invites her to a cosmic entities convention to show her off, does not tell her that all of these people are literal quasars and planets and shit. she freaks out understandably, seeks comfort in the arms of the sun of her world (encouraged by Desire), and Dream, seeing them embracing, just fuckin leaves her there "the sun'll get her home," he says, "they're going to the same place, i'm not crying YOU'RE crying"

>Alianora, who was sent by Desire to help Dream fuck up some old gods, was given her own private island and also one of the Dream-Stones (for show fans, the ruby is a Dream-Stone!). i sincerely believe the only reason that Dream lost interest in her is because she spent so long in the Dreaming that if she tried to wake up she would die, and Dream is absolutely fascinated by things that can change (prob because that's his tragic character flaw is he can never change himself quite enough)

he don't got a great track record with his non-mortal lovers either (Thessaly, An Witch, and Calliope, the Muse), but over and over again with mortals, brief and ephemeral and changing, Dream cannot regulate himself. he burns super hot, super bright, and then either gets sucked back into work, or the fact that he has 0 Chill puts his lover off entirely. he has no concept of compromise and he's unable to not throw himself wholeheartedly into love. having Dream love you must be like being loved by a hurricane or the core of the earth. can you imagine what that would be like? having the attention of something that huge and fathomless and ancient focused on you like a laser? it would be like being crushed under a mountain.

this is why i think Hob Gadling is such a fantastic foil to, and the Premier Ship Of, Dream. Hob Gadling also throws himself wholeheartedly and joyfully into every new thing, Hob is out there living his best life and telling stories and i think he mentions doing cocaine in like the 90s in one of the comics? but, point being, Hob doesn't ever let immortality go to his head. he is the most mortal mortal that ever mortaled, he just happens to have a concept of eternity that, no matter how infinitesimally, actually approaches what Dream is.

it's just that the dynamic you get now, with a mortal who understands the true concept of endlessness, is "Hob I have brought to you a brooch forged from the heart of a dying star, pearls harvested from oysters that have never seen the sun and never will, sapphires infused with the waters of Eden"

"oh that's gorgeous dear how thoughtful I'll put it on the shelf with the Polished Sphere of Crystallized Auroras and Hope"

and then Dream fucks off to do his job for like 8 years and Hob isn't too fussed because he spent like 6 centuries waiting for this weird wet cat of a man to fuckin introduce himself, he can wait a few years for them to meet up for dinner again

anyways i wrote all of these as a partial explanation as to why Dream is so fuckin weird and turbo in Husbands, and it's because he's a sad scrungly pathetic cat man AND he's also an enormous endless eldritch creature that has no concept of emotional regulation but also a terminal fascination with the changeability and fragility of mortals that translates into absolute fucking insane love

#the sandman #the sandman meta #dreamling #dream of the endless/hob gadling #dream/hob #the sandman (2022)

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oceanlipgloss · 2 years ago

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LOVER

SATAN.

+ warnings: angst, mentions of illness and death.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Kisses of ice in a dreamy sea, and a crimson illusion swirling in the hold of glass.

Clink. Clink. Clink. With every cold chime, pain greater than the older blazed. Down her face salty blood trickled, but into the raging well within her chest yet another threatening sob was swallowed.

Rain collided with the world in sacrifice that night. They landed on all but her, the golden butterflies. She, a young beauty in a lone corner, courting tangerine candlelight—her cheeks like glossy apples, the glass in her hand brimming with melted rubies.

Eyes watched, some pitiful, most skeptical: as how foolish did the enchanting human have to be, sitting alone in a bar, drunk and pushing herself much too far? How mad was she, serving strange demons her quiet tears?

But, they didn't understand; for to her, roses are briar—daggers piercing the flesh, thorns embracing the heart; she was so passionately in love. And to love a man like him was to gaze into the white eyes of death. To love him was to make disaster sink its black teeth into her soul. And he, always a distance away, never left her brain alone. So why had he suddenly appeared before her? Were her thoughts not good enough a home? Why was he clad in the essence of his form?

In her mind, the scene was a painting reflected in his mirror—the heat searing his veins, the wave flooding the room with warmth, and the horns curving out of blonde. But in that moment, he was panting, dripping with storm—a storm that became hers when she bounded into his embace, raindrops and all. Why was a tremor gripping his fingers, though?

If only she could stay together with him, forever in his arms. If only his touch would grace her, always. His fingers in her hair summoned forth memories she didn't have. His touch made her long for a love he never gave. Her heart urged her to sing adoration; it chanted so they be lovers, even if for no other than tonight.

Silence and thunder, intermingling. Not his voice. Not hers. Just his body intoxicated with her radiating warmth as they walked—next to grim lanterns, away from rain's cold hands. Yet, even amidst the multitude of sparkling colors, anguish possessed her eyes. The pact between them had not marred her skin; instead, it seemed to have been engraved upon her heart. And above that heart, she lay her ashen palm.

In silence he stood, watching her, a broken human glowing with the merry glow of streetlight. She knew he didn't feel for her, and somehow made herself hope that he never would. So, when she took both his hands in her small hold, did the tremors tell of all her words? Did it tell the tale of her sick heart?

“I believe we will meet again,” his unknowing brain told her.

“If only I weren't too weak for this world,” her mocking heart replied.

A smile. Did she savour the taste of his pain?

Long fingers curled around her arm. Pain stung the nerves up her shoulder. Anguish gleamed in his eyes, molten. Never once had she stopped wishing his emotions would become hers, and for one second, they were—his love, his fury, his agony, pure flames.

A quiet wait.

“Are you happy you're leaving?” his brain snarled. “Not just this place, but the world, too?”

“Once upon a time, I was in love with the idea of early death,” her heart retorted. “But it's hideous to have two sweethearts at once.”

An aura of omen surrounded him, untouched by vivid light. Falling rain hung itself, crystals in the night. It was heartbreaking, seeing him like so. And it's only when an entity lime and black—a spinal tail—locked around her waist did she again hear the song of rain.

Breaths laced. Tremors ran through his body. Wrath was hellfire in his emerald gaze. How she wished for mercy. How she prayed to live, so by his side she could stay.

Light moved across her irises as they followed the fluid formation of horns. Before either of them knew what was going on, he had cupped her face and locked his lips with hers. From her wide eyes tears slithered, tinging their bittersweet kiss.

Under the sparkle of lights, amid the symphony of love and rain, he kissed her tenderly once and again—fingers tangled in hair, tail tight around fragile figure—and kept her as close as space allowed. Upon the parting of lips he mused, “do you still want to run away?”

As she gazed at her love, lanterns became wishes in the verdant sky of his eyes, stars destined to forever long for the unreachable paradise above.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#obey me #obey me swd #om! shall we date #shall we date? obey me!#om! swd #shall we date satan #swd satan #om! satan #satan obey me #obey me fanfic #obmswd #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #the story factory

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cosmokyrin · 4 years ago

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Penny‘s current state

Okay so now that I've had time to process the whole bajillion things that happened in the latest ep, I think I kind of wrapped around my head on what happened to Penny.

I think a good part of the FNDM's reaction (including mine) was because there was always investment in Penny being a robot / android. The original appeal of her character was because she was a robot with the mind of a person. She struggled like a human would regarding her feelings vs her programming. And that's valid. In fact, pretty sure a lot of us found her quirky and adorable and rooted for her because of this.

But now I feel like, while I got invested with her being a robot, and thought she would stay that way forever, what RWBY did was made me realize the concept of Penny being a soul contained (or “trapped”) within a robotic body. We liked her being a robot, a whole lot, sure. But the thing is that wasn't exactly what Penny was, all this time. Since Volume 2, we know that she always felt insecure about her "realness". I thought, and held on to the thought that it was because she was a robot, but no, it's not because she was a robot - but because she was an artificial intelligence. And she was never certain of her agency that time. She always had that thought gnawing at the back of her head, that she was just a programming (remember in V8C5 when Cinder hit her below the belt saying, "If you weren't built that way!" implying that so long as Penny was a robot, her autonomy was uncertain).

Throughout RWBY, Ruby and her other friends always pointed out that she has a soul. There was always emphasis in the soul (V8C12 Ruby: “Her soul is who she is.”). They never talked to Penny as a robot at all, they always spoke directly to her. Because the show always emphasized that past that mechanical body, they were all interacting with a soul, just as you wouldn't say Alphonse Elric (Full Metal Alchemist) was just a large armor talking and moving like a human. Alphonse was a soul trapped in a mechanical body, just like Penny was. The goal for Alphonse was to return to his original body using the Philosopher’s Stone. Penny’s goal was to have her soul break free from being trapped in a body that always made her doubt her autonomy / agency.

In a way as well, Penny sort of transcended death. I think the emphasis on her mechanical body breaking down like that was meant to make a point. That would have been Penny without a soul -- cold and emotionless. But because she was more than that, she got past the death of her body and was able to live as Penny herself. She was not her body. That was just a part of her, and she can shed it away because it was not her. (The metaphysical aspects of this is sending me jsljfs). Personally I feel sad about seeing that breakdown, because I got so used to knowing Penny as a robot / android, but now she's past that, because all her being a robot was just temporary for her character (though it was a really looong arc, if we count by the years RWBY has aired).

So what is Penny now? I think, as others have pointed out, she is just indeed some walking entity of sorts. Since the episode seemed to emphasize that Penny was always the intelligence behind the robot, she's just like Vision from Avengers now. She's technically a manifestation of the reality she formed for herself (aka, her personal belief that she's a real girl / person). See, Vision went directly from being an AI (Jarvis, "confined" in a network different from our reality) to a manifested physical body, but definitely not human. That's Penny.

Penny is now, in a sense, truly free or her confinement. Not what I expected it to be, but I think that's pretty neat. I think the whole thing is a callback to the “I want to live my life” theme from V8C5. I'll definitely miss her being a robot, but Penny is still Penny without being an android. Though imagine now if it's possible that Penny can shapeshift, or go Green Lantern on herself :)

#penny polendina #spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby volume 8 spoilers #rwby spoilers #rwby v8 spoilers

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 4 years ago

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Trinkets, Rings, 3: Enough rings and bands to wear three on every finger and toe while still having dozens to spare. Rings, especially magic rings are a very common item of jewelry in fiction and roleplaying. From a basic ring of protection, to the life saving ring of regeneration, the ring of the Nibelungs, the rings of the lantern corps, the ring of Gyges, any wedding ring ever depicted, the ring of Solomon, Sir Perceval’s ring, Aladdin’s genie housing ring, the nine rings of mortal men and the precious one ring of power, these small circular pieces of gems, metal, wood or bone always add more to the story than the sum of their parts. None of these rings are intensely magical in their own right but can serve as basis for a magical or plot relevant ring. When a DM rolls a d100, the bog standard ring of protection +1 they were going to give out now has a unique look and personality rather than just a mechanical benefit.

A big heavy ring made of sterling silver. On the face of the ring is a skull the size of a large man’s thumb, run through with a lance and a flag fluttering around it. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A shinning brass signet ring that proudly displays a raised fist against a red starburst. Knowledge PC's will recognize the sigil as the symbol of a paladin order known as the Boros Legion. There's a weight to it that belies its size, a weight of strength and of pride.

A cheap-looking tin ring that has a small dial adorned with letters of the alphabet that can be aligned with various strange pictographs. Knowledgeable PC's will recognize it as a decoder ring and can be used to decipher texts that were written using this specific ring or a twin of it.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

Ring of Fire Detection: A pure white ring set with a transparent red gemstone. The gemstone will light up and emit a piercing sound if the ring comes into direct contact with fire, magical or otherwise.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

An onyx ring set with a shimmering opal, from which a thin line of black smoke continuously billows forth.

A ring comprised of two interlocking bands, one gold engraved with a motifs of laughing faces and the other granite with a motif of faces set in stony silence.

A lead ring bearing engravings of an otherworldly entity spreading its unnatural gifts.

A simple black ring is polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "I am better off healed than I ever was unbroken."

A crudely made gold ring set with a huge green gemstone that glows faintly even in full daylight.

An iron ring set with a dark ruby of great size and splendor. Within its heart flickers a mysterious flame, entrapped there in ages past by a masterful mage.

A thin ring made of two intertwining strands of silver and gold, both ornate and simple in appearance.

A silver ring in the shape of a spider whose legs clasp around the wearer’s finger and whose body is a yellowish gem.

An unassuming copper ring clean and shiny like a new penny, it has dozens of smiling faces faintly carved into its surface.

A silver ring with golden ram's horns curling around the edge of its crown.

A bog iron ring with a poem in Druidic on the inside.

An onyx ring. When tapped three times, a faint blue light shows the symbol of an assassin’s guild.

A pair of black iron body piercing rings, with a chain linking them.

A copper ring with a small clear gem that shimmers slightly even in the dark. It is badly crafted with scuffs and scratches along the loop and yet there is something quaint about it that suggests more value than the first impression would suggest.

A silver banded ring with a single white gem encased in the center. Etched into the surface are ancient glyphs, binding its power to an individual to be used as a focus. The head of the ring is a flat surface which is adorned with an intricate ritualistic circle design.

A lavender ring with a cosmic gemstone faceted into it. The gem moves and glows like outer space, and has a spiral vortex pattern along its edges.

An iron signet ring whose symbol can be changed once per day by the bearer. The image must be something the bearer has seen and remembers clearly.

A crystalline ring in the shape of a dragon, that changes based on the bearer’s emotional state.

A gold ring whose Randomly Colored gemstone levitates just out of the socket, following wherever the ring goes.

A platinum ring that has a large blue sapphire embedded in the band. When the bearer looks into the stone, he can see a perfect reflection of himself that appears to have a life all of its own. Engraved on the inside of the band one can see a message that reads; "Never lose sight of your true self".

A single human tooth encased in a brass ring, inscribed with a twin-tailed comet. Knowledge PC’s will recognize it as a holy reliquary of a relatively famous prophet and devout follower of the God of the Outer Stars.

An oxidized copper ring etched with ancient hieroglyphs that tell a timeless fable.

A brass ring set with an oversized, round brown bezoar for a gemstone. Extremely ugly, by modern standards.

A heavy silver ring with a flat, round head. A cap lifts off the top, revealing a folded-down needle, which may be lifted into place, and the markings of a sundial around it. None of the marks, all twiggy, natural shapes, correspond to modern notation, save the fact there are 12.

A ruby ring, heavy, plain, and gold, set with a fat, badly cut ruby that's entirely stuck on a finger bone. In modern times, it would be a man’s thumb ring, though an ugly one. The band surrounds a thick finger bone and won’t come off (But could be chiseled out) as the knuckles are knobby and too wide. The bone is fragile with age, and conspicuously blackened.

A signet ring, quite wide, made of cast iron. The signet face is that of a beaked skull, one halfway between that of a human and a crow. The ring is too wide for a human to wear and seems to have been designed for a finger twice that size.

A horrific black ring that turns translucent when submerged in a water and uncoils into a slippery, leech-like tentacle when unworn.

A wide, red brass ring, that's plain, on the exterior. There is lettering inside the band, raised and sharp. If worn on a clenched fist, the lettering digs painfully into its finger, leaving the word "memento" imprinted in red welts.

A mithral ring, engraved with a pattern of rolling waves that encircles the entire band. The ring is immune to rust, both from natural oxidation and rust caused by magical effects.

A steel ring that carries the sign of an armorers’ guild: a stylized helmet with visor, two crossed swords and the rune “A” engraved beneath them.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A mysterious ring; ancient, covered in runes. After spending some minutes sniffing, touching, and examining the thing, the bearer can safely say it exudes an aura of magic. When worn is makes the bearer's hairs stand on end and sparks jump between the metal and his fingers.

A ring carved from a single solid gemstone that glows with an inner light and pulses with its wielder’s heartbeat.

A simple pale stone that sits atop a plain steel band, flickering every so often with unknown power.

A simple gold band studded with blue diamonds. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize it as a ring of office for the Grand Vizier, the highest advisor to a great rajah.

Ring of Bubbles: A delicate ring made of multicolored glass. When this ring is held between two fingers and dipped it into a solution of soap and water, a creature can blow through it to produce dozens of fist sized, glowing, technicolor bubbles which are difficult to pop and last for up to a minute.

Ring of the Firebuilder: A ring made of worked flint. When struck with a piece of steel, it sheds sparks that are able to ignite objects as normal. The sparks created from the ring never harm the bearer, who gains Advantage on igniting objects with the ring.

A ring crafted of simple silver. The band is etched with different letters from all languages of the realms, some unrecognizable to any living person.

A thickly banded ring made of black steel. It sits heavy on the bearer's finger never feeling fully comfortable.

A sapphire banded in gold with a loop of string around it to go around the bearer's neck. The inside of the gem appears to be filled with flowing water that swirls and sloshes magnificently inside the sapphire.

A pewter ring with an inlaid gold band that slowly rotates.

A band of tarnished silver bearing no ornament or inscription, but is icy cold to the touch. The patches of dark corrosion on the ring subtly move and change. This never occurs while anyone observes the ring, but happens constantly.

A gold ring shaped in the form of a manacle, uncomfortably tight regardless of how it's worn.

A brass band in the shape of a dragon’s claw, scuffed and tarnished with age and frequent use.

A ring made from woven lead and silver.

A brass ring, set with rubies and engraved with fire runes, holds a lens of orange-red crystal that has an esoteric circle lightly etched in the glass.

A ring of silver green mithril engraved with runes from the enchantment school of magic. Though plain looking, the edges of the band are decorated with an intricate design of miniaturized knotwork.

An oversized ancient golden ring bears the silver hawk crest of the Yragerne family line on its large flat top.

An ornate golden ring set with a perfect square-cut emerald. A noble insignia on both sides of the gem features two eagles flying in opposite directions.

A platinum ring in the shape of a coiled snake. Its eyes are two perfectly cut rubies. The ring has a mesmerizing aura that attracts the eyes of the greedy and the vain. Only a person with clear desires and unclouded wants is unaffected by its allure.

A dwarven-forged amethyst ring bearing the inscription “Cracked from the hammer of the Forge-Father”

A garnet ring that causes the bearer’s hand to appear to be clawed and demonic.

A signet ring that will magically re-size itself to fit the wearer, but only if the wearer is a direct descendant of the creator of the ring.

A rose gold ring that, when put on, periodically gives the wearer the distinct feeling that he or she is forgetting something important.

A platinum ring set with an opal cracked in a star pattern, like a tiny sun when the light passes through it.

A simple black ring polished to a shine, and written in gold lettering around the outer band is the phrase "Three things cannot be long hidden: the Sun, the Moon, and the Truth.

A bizarre looking ring that could easily be mistaken for a piece of forest debris. Its thorn covered surface throbs with the sensation of a beating heart when placed on the left ring finger.

Sphinx Ring: A small band with a little head of a lion, made of limestone. By stroking the band while worn, the lion whispers a riddle based on events which its bearer has witnessed, and the riddles can vary widely in difficulty, from simple riddles to questions only previous bearers could logically answer. If the answer is correct, the ring purrs, while if incorrect, it roars. It is mostly used to pass the time during long travels, but nobles have been known to use them in party games.

A transparent ring of blue-green resin that smells of strange magical forests. The band is slick to the touch, but never slips off of a finger accidentally.

An unassuming bronze ring that seems less than spectacular in every way and boasts no gems to speak of on its surface. However, within the band lies a diamond pressing softly against the bearer's skin.

A rusty iron ring that appears to show a dusty landscape within it, changing as it’s moved. The finger the ring is worn on always feels warm and dry.

A sealing ring, with the image of a smiling, winking imp.

A band carved from a single chunk of raw amethyst, capped with a black pearl in a truesilver setting. In darkness, the ring glows with a faint purple hue.

A ring whose outer edge has six flat edges, so that it presents a hexagonal appearance. One of the sides bears a setting carved of obsidian, topped by a small black diamond

A ring that is more like a wrap designed to completely encase the bearer’s finger. It is formed of what appears to be a thin sheet of platinum laced with spidery gold webbing. Once slid over a finger, the covering becomes as flexible as cloth and stays in place until the bearer removes it.

A ring consisting of a truesilver core surrounded by a torus of azure ice coated in a slick sheen, as though in the process of melting. The ring is cold to the touch and though the ice remains slippery, it never melts and the ring is never in danger of slipping off the finger unexpectedly.

A ring crafted from pure white gold encrusted with speck- sized fragments of diamond. When held to the light, it produces a prismatic effect, sparkling and gleaming with all the colors of the rainbow.

A ring made entirely of silver, intricately carved in fine patterns. Four small opals are set into the surface at regular intervals. When the ring is worn, they slowly orbit the finger without ever leaving the band.

A black ring made from a single piece of obsidian and bears a gold inlay design of chains.

A ring made up of filaments of bone and black iron of various thicknesses, twisted together in a strange mottled composite.

A ring carved from moonstone in the shape of a miniature, cable-twisted torc. The end-caps of the "torc" rest where a signet would be, each mounting a tiny, curved feline claw cast from silver.

A signet ring made of heavy lead with a distinctively abnormal design carved into it.

A brass ring encasing a small, polished moldavite.

A silver ring made out of very fine wire worked into rather complicated decorative ornament.

An ornate brass signet ring with a coiled serpent design with two freshwater pearls for eyes. The ring has a poison pill compartment that is currently empty.

A small copper ring, inset with flawed pearls.

A ring made out of blond hair and porcelain braided together. Wearing it slowly causes the bearer to experience apathy towards everything.

A mysterious bronze ring, ancient and marked with eldritch signs.

A pewter ring in the shape of a crab with its claws pressed to its body and the legs forming the ring. The shell, claws, and legs of the crab are set with polished abalone and the eyes are tiny garnets.

An adamantine ring is set with a cabochon cut water opal.

A platinum ring set with a large diamond surrounded by a circle of smaller sapphires and rubies. The gems gleam brightly in even the dullest light. An inscription on the inside of the band reads simply “for Alenea” in Elven.

A larger than average ring that looks like sheets of gold woven together into a simple pattern. Despite its size, ring feels almost weightless. On the inside of the ring there is an engraved; "A.Z."

A silver ring encrusted with dark gems. Upon inspection the ring itself smells of earth, mud and worms.

A brass ring that is crudely constructed with dent marks and battle burns.

A lapis colored gemstone embedded into a ring that is stylized with the alchemical symbol of a circle inside a square, inside a triangle, inside another circle.

A simple bronze ring sized for a giant's finger.

A plain-looking wooden ring with no characteristic marks or engravings. It almost looks as though the carpenter who fashioned it never got around to finishing it.

A copper ring shaped like knotted brambles.

A copper ring shaped like a dragon clutching its own tail, holding a moonstone it its mouth.

A petrified stone fist wearing a golden ring. It is impossible to remove the ring without destroying the fist.

A silver ring shaped like rolled arrow.

A bone ring with a deep purple inlay, set with an onyx.

An emerald ring that gives the bearer an abnormally strong sense of balance. The bearer is rendered immune from mundane vertigo effects such as dizziness from heights or seasickness.

A black stone ring made for the middle finger of a man's hand. The band is carved in the shape of a vine with thorns.

An iron band flecked with onyx pieces and is always cold to the touch.

A rough-hewn silver band with a single purple stone inset. No matter how long it is held, it is cold to the touch. While worn, the bearer occasionally hears strange dissonant whispers in Deep Speech promising power and domination over others.

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devout-khajiit · 14 hours ago

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Got all my consecration done. Now to work on the readings I need to get done ( psst, if you're interested in my readings, go over to @khajiit-reads ), and hopefully be able to focus, because my focus is not working with me today.

However, Witch Mother and my guardians are kind of hounding me so maybe I should listen instead of working but. eh?

I shall see what they want and if it's lucky for me then it'll just be a short thing then I can get back to the work I need to be doing.

#khajiit speaks #entity: witch mother #entity: the sapphire fang #entity: the emerald feather #entity: the obsidian blade #entity: the ruby lantern #entity: the golden prince

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khajiit-journal · 11 days ago

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Morndas, Mid Year 09, 2025

🗓️ | Monday, June 09, 2025 🌦️ | warm & clear, then very rainy at night 🌙 | waxing gibbous 🎊 | n/a

— ☆ —

[ dream go swoosh over my head ]

— ☆ —

Today I got my shrine vessels/waypoints for The Obsidian Blade and The Ruby Lantern, so they've joined The Emerald Feather. The Golden Prince and The Sapphire Fang will have things soon!

Speaking of that, though, Witch Mother wants me to make a consecration ritual to do on the solstice. I need to do it regardless for their shrine vessels, but also for their jewelry vessels. I'm gonna suck it up and prioritize buying their jewelry vessels they picked instead of ten million new decks next when I buy the Litha/Midsummer SOTW deck. I want to be able to get their new items and consecrate them during the Summer Solstice. It's just... costly. y'know? But everything else CAN wait. I'm not super happy about it, but it CAN wait.

But speaking of guardian spirits, I'm also like. I'm worrying a bit that because the haunting has fucked up communication so much, then I might not have heard some things they've said in the past. I tried to talk to them through tarot but the instant I grab a deck the haunting kicks right back up and I can't speak to them.

I'm going to have to talk to them another way. Because while I've had enough conversation through other means to verify that they want what I've been settling into (and Lucifer has also verified it too, who I don't have communication problems with), I wish I could talk to them the way I used to be able to. [ siiiiiigh ] So annoying and frustrating.

I hope! that by doing all of this will add the guardians to my "no communication issues" roster alongside Zyxlairuo, Lucifer, and Witch Mother. Wearing the jewelry today really helped, so I'm gonna keep doing that. I want to be able to hear them and speak with them properly.

...That gives me an idea. I'm going to try and talk to them through tarot wearing their devotional pieces.

Okay, good news! I can! Bad news! They bonk me for speedrunning this shit again. AAAAAAUGH LET ME GO FAST LIKE SONIC /silly

Witch Mother also... has plans for me to do for the full moon and for the solstice in general? I think the solstice plan is just consecrating. But the full moon plan is recharging shit and making sure that I re-enchant my nonbinary bracelet to help make people affirm my gender more. I can't wear gender pins as easily as I'm not in a very trans friendly area, so magic is all I got, especially when both friends and family still consistently forget that I use they/them, which is annoying as shit.

I don't have anything else to say... I'm tired. Been very busy and maybe haven't been resting the way I should be. WHOOPSIES!

I've also dropped some pics under the cut, of my jewelry I wear + the shrine waypoints.

The set:

Dragon ring - devotional and jewelry waypoint to The Emerald Feather

Silver ring - devotional/jewelry waypoint to The Golden Prince (golden ring was already taken)

Blue tube bead bracelet - devotional/jewelry waypoint to The Obsidian Blade

Wolf bracelet - devotional/jewelry waypoint to The Sapphire Fang

Gold ring - devotional ring to my path and my faith

Nazar amulet - for general nazar amulet reasons

Enby bracelet - enchanted to help people see me as my gender

Butterfly necklace - devotional/jewelry waypoint for The Ruby Lantern

Blue gem in cage necklace - wearing just 'cause right now

Majora's Mask necklace - for funsies :)

Orange and red necklace - devotional to the unrecorded pantheon and my main patron, Zyxlairuo

Then the demon skull is The Obsidian Blade's, the angel is The Ruby Lantern's, and the dragon is The Emerald Feather's. Having home access to a 3D printer is cool and fun.

#date: 06.09.25 #entity: the golden prince #entity: the emerald feather #entity: the obsidian blade #entity: the ruby lantern #entity: the sapphire fang #entity: witch mother #entity: zyxlairuo #entity: lucifer #includes: haunting

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xmarksthescott · 3 years ago

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SUPERHERO ASK MEME / ACCEPTING @xebelean sent: [ ONE ] for sender’s overuse of their abilities to give them a nosebleed, causing receiver to show concern. + [ THREE ] for sender’s overuse of their abilities to make blood stream from their eyes, causing receiver to show concern.

HE DOESN’T GET THE CONCEPT OF LANTERN RINGS anymore than she gets the concept of cerebro. it was another reminder that as similar as they were, the backgrounds they came from couldn’t have been more different.

he knows dark phoenix, an entity which needed to feel his love to feel human. and by reaching out to jean and emma’s hearts while they had it, he was able to bring them back from the brink of losing themselves completely. but the concept of red lanterns is completely different --all rage, no love. and he was told to avoid reaching out to that love lest it end her life and make her heart stop.

so he had no choice but to watch from the shadows out of sight, horrified and scared to death he’d lose another woman who’d made a home in his heart. and when she finally falls, blood streaming out from her face like that, he runs to her. she’s still red but the power is fading, which is why he assumes her friends even let him come out to see her at this point. cradling her against him, he tries for a weak smile for her benefit more than his.

❛ hey...hi. ❜ his eyes feel misty behind their ruby barrier. ❛ do me a favor? let’s just stick to hanging out on my island for a while...no more space adventures that give you crazy red rings, alright? ❜ he teases, voice weak but relieved.

#xebelean #hi

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the-wardens-torch · 4 years ago

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FFXIVwrite2021 Prompt #6: Avatar

((Direct sequel to this piece. Apologies, but I think most of my FFXIVwrite stuff this year is going to be filling in blanks that were left by the 5 other years I’ve been participating and I‘m sorry if its annoying to try and follow, sasdfasdfad))

Falerin stared blankly at the broken honeybee figurine on the table. The stone was dishwater gray in the dim light of Uther’s lantern, but he could just barely see scant flashes of red in its depths.

Was this what Uther meant by Ruby’s “primordial form?” It was smaller and carved to be more stylistically attractive than true to life… did she even count as life? But an arcanist didn’t have to carve a stone into the form they wanted it to take… did they? He suddenly wished he’d made more of an effort to listen to Sunnthota’s unsolicited arcanima lessons.

“It used to be a high-quality ruby, and I chose it for its size and clarity - its shape meant nothing. Yet she chose to take that shape when she bound to you. Its fascinating.” Uther said, inhaling for another long rambling sentence. “Arcanists channel their own aether through gemstones like these to awaken the latent energies in them, so that they can give form to the entities we call carbuncles. Did you know that?” he asked.

Falerin looked down to notice that Ruby had exited the collar of his robe and was now tiptoeing six-leggedly onto his hand. He turned his hand over thoughtfully as she continued moving, her wings quivering soundlessly in a manner he’d come to know as a sort of apprehension. Was she afraid for him to find out what she really was and why she was inextricably bound to him?

“Falerin, this is important. Do you understand?”

“Just give me a second, will you?!” Falerin raised his free hand and thrust it palm-out between him and his father.

Without hesistation, Uther grabbed Fal’s wrist and stared him square in the eye. The muddy light cast deep shadows on his face, making his angular features look more severe than ever.

“No, do… you… understand?” he said, enunciating the words as if talking to someone who didn’t speak the same language.

Not breaking eye contact, Falerin moved to draw his hand from Uther’s grip. Uther didn’t resist the escape attempt, instead straightening his back and looking down with an expression of abject disappointment. Fal tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

“I’m so sorry - it must be so hard for you as a father to learn that your son is so intellectually deficient despite your doing absolutely nothing to raise him or teach him anything.” Falerin said wryly.

Uther drew back slightly and narrowed his eyes, the sharp lines of his face twisting into an expression of disappointment.

“Why do you think I contacted you? It would have been just as easy to never tell you who I was, but then neither of us would have a chance at understanding this. ” Uther scoffed.

Fal pinched the bridge of his nose and hissed loudly through clenched teeth. Was this all he really was to his father? An intellectual opportunity? The temptation to make a cutting remark and walk out was strong.

“I used this ruby to summon her in her true form years ago, before she decided to bind to you instead.” Uther said, his voice rising to an almost pleading tone as he eyed Ruby. “She was my magnum opus! My own avatar of divinity! Her aether should have been permanently bound with mine. Her binding herself to you, let alone her binding herself to you and surviving is unprecedented! Do you understand what this could mean?”

“I don’t think we’re even having the same conversation because clearly I don’t.” Falerin said coldly, squeezing his eyes shut in abject frustration.

“And you never will if you keep acting like such a stubborn fool!”

Falerin opened his eyes again and hung an empty smile beneath them as he stared across the table. There wasn‘t a hint of tenderness or regret in his father’s eyes. Even the pleading tone his voice had taken on was insincere - the whine of an adult child who wasn’t getting his way. Sure, Fal wanted to know what Ruby was, where she had come from and why she‘d been with him his whole life… But he had hoped to learn so many other things first. Had he even told him anything about his mother? Or asked him any questions about himself that weren’t about magic? Or even apologized for… anything? This was only their second time meeting, and he cared more about arcane particulars than anything else.

Falerin slouched in his seat and laughed quietly.

This was going to be a very long night.

#Falerin Arcita #Uther Alcyone #ffxivwrite2021 #Prompt 6: Avatar

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welcometoels · 4 years ago

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Session Eleven - Slathiel

And so, our adventurers completed their quest for the four items of power, and returned them to the entity known as Slathiel, as promised.

Or did they?

Something about this being rubbed certain party members up the wrong way. This, combined with the close personal connection each of them felt to one of the items, gave them pause.

Thus, a plan was hatched - each party member would speak to some of the friends they had made in town, and gather a little posse to speak to this so-called Slathiel - that way, if everything suddenly went wrong, they would have strong support in the ensuing battle.

Kadis makes the first move. Stepping into Jackie & Clutchstraw’s, he has a friendly chat with Drow artificer Aberron - who, understandably, still has a lot of questions. Kadis fills him in as best he can, and Aberron - after a quick consultation with his brass owl, Dominique - agrees.

Oddsock takes a more direct approach. Storming into the Dogwood Trading Post (Presented By Himself), he invites Jackie Face to come out and play. Jackie, though, has business in mind - specifically beer business. The market research has gone swimmingly, with the new hoppy brew going down especially well with the hard-grafting carpenters in town - in particular with the man who took the lead on building the Potions & Artifices shop: a man they refer to fondly as Jackies’ Hammer.

After agreeing that this would make a fabulous name for the beer, Oddsock gives Jackie Face a few more details about the upcoming fight. Face becomes uncharacteristically quiet, muttering under his breath about company values, teamwork and synergy, in a way the Dog finds strangely familiar. Suddenly, Jackie Face disappears into a large box of miscellaneous armour parts in the corner, and promises to see the team outside shortly.

Talion heads over to the Jaunty Skinner to speak to his new buddy and nighttime companion Freginald Biceppe. Being very well disposed towards both fighting and Talion - his two favourite things to do - Freginald needs very little encouragement to join the fray, and pledges his two meaty fists to the party’s cause.

On the other side of the pub, Julius finds Gyder at the bar with the latest in a line of foaming ales, and X at a nearby table, idly doodling couches with a distracted look on her face. Gyder has a new haircut - trimmed almost to the skin at the sides and back, with a asymmetrical fringe. It is the kind of cut that would look spiffy on an Elf, but serves mostly to accentuate the severity of her face. This may have been the point.

Julius approaches both with a panicked entreaty for help. X yelps and quickly hides her drawings, before asking what is wrong. After a brief, stuttering rundown of the situation from the Otter, X immediately agrees to assist, and turns to Gyder. The Half-Orc drains her ale in one swallow - game on.

Out in the town square, as everyone gathers, new companion Batch 38 Unit 12 is standing in conversation with Aberron Clutchstraw. The Helpforged cleric is going into extensive detail regarding their inner workings, while the Drow stands agog, in rapt attention.

Suddenly, from the Trading Post door, there appears a strange contraption: Half of a suit of armour, with raccoon faces peeking out from the neck and wrist holes, mounted on a unicycle. Jackies Left and Right clutch a katar and tea tray respectively, while Jackie Face shouts commands at Jackie Bottom’s madly pedalling feet. Jackie Middle is in there somewhere, doubtless horribly warm at the heart of the hastily-assembled Mecha-Jackie.

Standing in the deepening dusk and watching with a sense of bemusement as this all take place, Slathiel now commands attention. An agreement was made, a quest given and accepted, yet no items of power have yet been presented. Folding their six golden arms and flapping their wings, Slathiel requests them once again.

It is now that the party begins to ask questions that had been festering since their first encounter - specifically about who Slathiel is, and what they need the gems and lanterns for - but Slathiel is not in an answering mood.

Talion laments his lack of a Detect Good & Evil spell, and 38/12 - helpful by design - twists the spell focus on their chest to the left, lighting up several magical runes imprinted on their body. With a wave of their hand, the verdict is announced:

“This entity before us is... Evil.”

With that, Slathiel’s demeanour changes. Unfolding their mighty ruby wings and taking flight up to the roof of the Jaunty Skinner, their form too begins to alter: The six golden arms merge into two thick, grey, scaly limbs, their height increases and their head widens, with a mouthful of sharp teeth and two cruel eyes glaring down at the gathered people below.

The creature hunches forward on the roof, turning its hands about in arcane gestures. “I gave you the chance to do what I asked,” it says, “but you have chosen death.”

From its scaly hands it shoots a Fireball, straight at 38/12. The Helpforged dodges the worst of the blast, but Kadis and Aberron are less fortunate, finding themselves close to death.

Worse still, Dominique is hit full force by the flames, and is shattered to pieces - a pile of broken brass and a single bright gem lying where the owl once was.

38/12 does their best to apply healing, while X dashes over to assist and Aberron, recovering from the loss of Dominique, conjures up an Eldritch Cannon to imbue those nearby with bonus health. The Jackies make a decent fist of pedalling in roughly the right direction, whilst buffing themselves with the Power of Commerce.

Deeper into the fight, those that can fire projectiles do so, to varying levels of success. Kadis dashes round to the side of the inn with the intent to scale it, and Julius cast Faerie Fire on Slathiel, lighting it up like a festive tree. Having achieved this, he transforms into a giant Wolf Spider, and begins to climb the front of the pub.

Slathiel, infuriated by this affront, descends, in order to bring the fight to the party. Freginald takes this as his cue, and makes with the fancy footwork and fists to the face. Talion lends his rapier to the fray, Gyder strides forth with her greataxe, and X conjurs up a spiritual weapon to assist.

Julius, abandoning the wall plan, drops his spider form and brings up a Moonbeam of radiant energy upon Slathiel, while Aberron moves in to support, Oddsock makes ready with Blasts both Eldritch and Searing, and the Jackies roll out in entirely the wrong direction.

Kadis, hearing the decent of Slathiel around the corner, attempt to jimmy open one of the Jaunty Skinner’s windows, with little success. He does, however, attract landlady/mayor Tiatha Rowe’s attention, and asks her to fetch a lantern from the wall and bring it to him.

As all of this goes on, a terrible shout is heard from the south. The figure that appears is familiar, but somewhat worse for where - green-scaled Dragonborn in dirt-covered robes, with a ragged sword wound at his throat.

As he charges in, he shouts after the monk who took his lantern. The body may be Graindude, but the voice is pure Aberraton Mortesque.

He is a distant concern for now, out on the edge of town. There are more pressing matters, such as the giant lizard who is now bearing down on Freginald, to terrible effect.

Fortunately, 38/12 is on hand to provide healing, while X lets rip with a Guiding Bolt. Talion and Gyder cut away as Julius’ Moonbean shines down, and the Jackies nearly make it to the battle.

Back inside the Skinner, Tiatha has reached the window and hands a torch out to Kadis, along with a request that he try and keep the fight out of her pub. This request becomes harder to fulfil, as Barty appears from the back.

Seeing the carnage on his doorstep, something changes inside the affable Gnome. He pulls out his meat cleaver and carving knife, bellows several nautical oaths into the air, and charges forth with the rage of a sea storm.

Slathiel rears away from this new attack, and launches its fury at Freginald once again. Undeterred, the brawny fighter hammers a fist straight into its jaw, smashing its head with furious vengeance and showering the inn’s chef with gore - which he loves.

And Lo! What sight do we see here? Losing control of the unicycle once again, the Jackies charge, by accident more than design, straight into the advancing corpse of the reanimated Graindude. They set about his rotten head and shoulders with bites, jabs and tea tray slaps.

As this furious (and inadvertent) melee ensues, Kadis puts into action his torch plan. Sharpening the unlit end, he channels his apple-lobbing skills and smashes the torch in the direction of the corpse... and misses completely.

Another fine plan foiled by the Dice Gods.

Fortunately, his friends are on hand with less convoluted fighting styles, and before long the revenant falls under fist, axe, rapier, raccoon, cutlery, magic blasts, and a final scourging strike from the Moonbeam, showering everyone with rotten Warlock.

Finally, quiet falls over Dogwood square. Barty goes to draw a bath, and Aberron picks up the gem that used to be Dominique, promising to remake her better than ever.

The others simply stagger about, congratulating each other on a fight well fought, before becoming silent.

The whole world becomes silent. Then, it begins to fade from view, and nothing can be seen, heard or felt around our party of four.

The round red gem and silver lantern rise from their keepers, and float in the air, joined in this negative space by the blue gem and green lantern. As they float, they begin to dance in a slow circle above the party’s heads.

And then a voice. A slow, calm, pleasant voice.

“Well done. You were very good, very entertaining, wonderful to watch. You were not fooled by that creature, and you have forged a beautiful bond as a party.

“We will meet again, I’m sure, elsewhere in this world. But for now, I will leave you with a gift.”

The gems and lanterns begin to change form in the space above their heads. The blue gem shrinks into a perfect blue pebble, and attached itself to Julius’ necklack, next to Pa McGinley’s charm; the green lantern becomes a small black and green egg, and sets itself next to Kadis’ cursed idol; The silver lantern flattens itself into something that could be a plectrum or a silver dragon scale, and hangs beside Talion’s jagged onyx charm; and the red gem becomes a gleaming red bottle cap, which hangs on to Oddsock’s leather tunic, at his neck.

Finally, the remains of Slathiel swim into view, and a perfect golden gem emerges from its skull. This too undergoes a transformation, into a tiny golden gear, which lands in Kadis’ hand.

“There is one more,” says the disembodied voice. “Make sure this gets to them.”

The world then rushes back into view, but not quite as it was. The dusk sky is subtly different in colour - more vibrant than before - and way off to the south stands a tall spire.

It is completely unfamiliar to Oddsock, though Julius may once or twice have seen it on the far horizon, and Kadis and Talion will have heard tales of it - the tallest tower in Els.

It is Barty, though, who speaks.

“Monthend Spire,” he says, his voice filled with awe. “Now I know where we are.”

#dnd #dnd homebrew #5e

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