#fic talk: lightbringer otp

[anghraine]

idek

"I knew you'd sunk low, Tybalt," said the other Charr, "but not that you were a human-kisser."

Rather distantly, Gwen thought that a mild euphemism for a soldier. But she could see some Charr cubs not far away, quite small ones. Maybe he was sparing their tender ears.

Tybalt was sputtering. "I never—it's not—"

If Gwen's childhood had taught her anything, it was detecting weakness. She could hear it in his lackluster protests, oddly muted given his usual energy and cheer. There was something else going on, something she didn't understand. But despite what he was, and what she was, and all of it, she didn't like seeing him beaten down in this way.

She stepped forward, though she wasn't stupid enough to touch her weaponry in the Black Citadel.

"What do you mean?" she said.

The stranger-Charr ignored her, his gaze settling on Tybalt's injury. With a sneer even she could recognize, he said,

"I'm surprised you can manage it these days."

Gwen's eyes narrowed. But she knew vicious bullies; human or Charr, they'd be the same. She'd always taken some enjoyment in refusing to give them what they wanted. And she couldn't care less about the sensibilities of Charr young.

"Oh," she said sweetly, "he can do more with one paw than you ever could with two."

Gwen had never felt the slightest attraction to males of any species, but it was worth it to see the stranger finally turn and stare at her, his outrage and shock unmistakable. Tybalt started coughing.

"You're right, Tybalt," Gwen went on. "There is something unpleasant in the air right here. We'd better go."

Between Tybalt's quick reflexes and Gwen's magic, they managed to slip away. Once they'd created some safe distance and snuck towards the gates, Tybalt cleared his throat again. With a familiar cheerful note in his voice, he said,

"My reputation is ruined."

[anghraine]

I did more PC!Gwen pre-visit-to-Ascalon ficlet writing, this time ft. Logan Thackeray and pain:

"Ascalon can be dangerous," Logan said, his tone measured in a way that aimed for effortlessness without quite reaching it. "The Renegades and Flame Legion don't care about the cease-fire, and neither do the Separatists or ghosts."

With someone else, Gwen wouldn't have deigned to show weakness. But this was Logan, so she gave her impulses freer reign: her mouth tightened, and her hands clasped behind her back as she paced.

"The ghosts," she said. "Do they ... recognize anyone living?"

"No," said Logan swiftly, halting her with a hand on her shoulder. "Not as far as I've seen. The Searing and the invasion are all they understand. They don't learn anything else, they don't remember anything else. Usually, they don't realize we aren't all Charr. They won't spare you because you're Ascalonian. They won't even know."

"Is there some way to free them?" she had to ask, though she felt foolish as soon as she did. If the Charr could have freed themselves of the consequences of conquest, they surely would have done so by now. "It must be an awful way to—to exist. And it's been so long."

"As far as I know," he said, "they can be defeated, and they disappear for a time. But they're cursed to come back and relive it again."

Her nails were digging into her skin. It took deliberate effort to drop her hands at her sides.

"Maybe defeating them gives them rest for awhile," she said.

"I hope so," he replied gravely. "Still, there's something about going back and seeing the place. I'd encourage you to enjoy it as much as you can—just stay close to that Charr friend of yours."

Not my friend, she almost said again.

"It won't be a problem," she told him. "I understand the danger, and Tybalt seems kind enough." Her mouth tugged into a faint smile. "To my surprise."

Logan's brows rose, but when he spoke, his voice gained that unusual note of restraint. "They can be, in their way."

"The Charr?" Gwen hadn't expected that; not from Logan. She remembered the absolute fury with which he'd spat out "this Charr" when they met with his old guild near the Trader's Forum. "Really? How do you know?"

"I had a Charr friend, myself," Logan said. His grey eyes flicked away. "Once. You saw him in Lion's Arch."

Gwen stared at him. She was very rarely at a loss for words, but for a moment, none came to mind. Then she blurted out,

"The one in your guild? That Charr who looted Prince Rurik's sword?"

“It was a long time ago,” said Logan tightly. “I never liked that, I just … well, none of that’s important now. But you say your friend is trusted by your Order? That takes some doing. You should be able to trust him, too.”

"He's not my friend," she finally admitted. "But I do think I can trust him. I'm sure I'll see you again soon, and please, let me know if something important comes up. The Order doesn't expect me to abandon Kryta."

Logan smiled. "That's good to know. I'll send word if there's anything urgent for you to do. For now, go with the gods, Gwen, and do our people proud."

[anghraine]

So, err, I continue to only find the will for niche AU-of-my-own-fic GW2 content. For those who have any context, this snippet takes place in the ten-level gap between the first Order of Whispers arc (rescuing Demmi Beetlestone) and the second (helping the skritt/quaggan/whoever).

But seeing Ascalon, at last. It had grown back, people said: the trees, the flowers. Gwen could see them, touch them. She could set foot on the same land that her foremothers and forefathers had, back when they were prosperous tradesfolk in Ashford instead of starving on the streets of Divinity's Reach or desperately fighting for Ebonhawke.

"You don't have to go see it," Tybalt added. "Maybe you'd rather pray or something."

Gwen actually laughed again.

"You can believe this," she said. "I don't hate you at all, Tybalt. I'd be glad to see Ashford with you."

He clapped her on the shoulder with his good paw, and her knees nearly buckled.

"Good to hear," he said. "I don't hate you either, Gwen. Tomorrow it is. Meet you in the Trader's Forum?"

"I'll be there," said Gwen.

[anghraine]

On the GW2 blog, I've been painstakingly going through the Commander!Gwen version of the personal story with descriptions of my headcanon additions/amendments, which is less interesting than fic, but also prevents me from giving into the temptation to write pro patria v. 2.0.

That said, the post I just drafted started as rationale for a (brief) separation between the Order Neophyte and Helping Hands arcs in my headcanon, and description of what I actually do headcanon as happening between the arcs, but once it touched on Gwen opening up somewhat to Tybalt, it morphed into full on narrative fic.

>_<

[anghraine]

All my art commissions have been for original fic characters, but next time I commission something from anyone, it'll be for either GW2 or D&D.

I'm still deciding tbh ... I'm deeply attached to the Gwen/Althea dynamic in my Commander!Gwen fic, even though nearly all of it is unposted (and extremely niche even if it were posted), and it'd be fun to think about how to represent it visually. And also just to have shippy art of my OFC/ OFC ship. Or there's the younger Gwen in her charming-but-ruthless bandit days, who'd be pretty cool. Or Gwen and Althea as pleasantly antagonistic lightbringers with UST, before Gwen becomes the Pact Commander.

OTOH, my last D&D campaign concluded with one of my best friend's and my sorcerer characters (hers: human sea sorcerer; mine: aasimar divine soul) establishing a strange sort of family with her character's drow warlock love interest. We had fun sketching out how the three of them built a life together and helped each other heal and what the dynamics looked like between the individual characters, and their aesthetics, etc etc. And we're playing the next-gen children in the next campaign! So there are plenty of directions for art to go there as well, and we've even talked about what we'd draw if either of us had the skills for it.

Choice is very hard >_>

[anghraine]

brotherskywalker replied to this post:

File off the serial numbers and publish it as an original fic. That was my plan for my GW2 inspired story.

I'm not sure how well this one would function as an original fic, tbh! It's got Tybalt, the Order of Whispers, time jumps, it's an AU of a different fic with a handful of readers (which one of the OFCs comes from), etc.

That said, the ealrier fic it spun off from did give me an idea for an original story that's not quite GW2 fic but deeply influenced by the Ascalonian diaspora issues in the game. It files off quite a few serial numbers, and draws a lot on the previous fic, though the story ultimately has a different plot and point. I've also get one in the same universe about the analogues to the Charr after they've had a revolution (for the better), though that's even more removed from the game.

[anghraine]

I haven't written any fiction of substantial length for ages, and then suddenly wrote four pages of GW2 fic today. It's a pro patria AU in which a totally different character is the proto-Pact Commander and Althea is a random Lightbringer:

Gwen Velazquez regretted many things about her time among the Bloodcrow bandits. Robbing aristocrats was not one of them. 

It wasn’t hard, between her flair for illusions and the way their gazes flitted past the struggling poor among them. What was one more overworked servant to a noble? She’d disliked them for years before that, as long as she could remember—disliked their indifference to the suffering around them, disliked their cushion of wealth and greed for more, disliked the way they hoarded so much of Kryta’s land that after two centuries in this country, nearly all her people were still crowded into two cramped districts and one distant settlement. A year of close proximity to them, keeping watch for the Bloodcrow gang and seizing opportunities, had only deepened her dislike to quiet hatred.

Except for the charr, she loathed no one more. And her parents had died fighting for Ebonhawke.

[...]

“Who was that?” Gwen asked Tybalt in a low voice. “The woman who was here?”

“You’ve got a good eye,” he said, and even the low growl of the charr sounded somehow amiable.

Gwen frowned.

“A new Lightbringer,” he said. “Althea’s the name. You’ll probably work with her sooner or later—you’ve got some important things in common.”

Her scowl deepened. “I doubt that.”

[anghraine]

I put together eight pages of my dissertation, so I rewarded myself with more GW2 Gwen/Althea fic with proto-Commander!Gwen/AU Althea:

Gwen had always had an eye for fine things. She tried not to look too obviously covetous and approached with Tybalt.

“Lightbringer Tybalt,” said Lady Althea, with a peculiar mix of deference and coldness. “Lady Demmi was just telling me of your successes, and Agent Gwen’s.”

“Tybalt will do, Lightbringer,” he said mildly. Gwen suspected he’d mentioned it before, but maybe Althea wasn’t used to her status. At least not her status in the Order.

Lady Althea straightened a little, though her full height wasn’t much, least of all before a charr. Now her expression revealed nothing but faint hauteur. Gwen had seen the expression countless times before—on different faces, but that didn’t matter much. Noble arrogance was noble arrogance.

“Of course,” said Althea. She cleared her throat. “Tybalt.”